She made her way to one of the large parking lots and searched for a car she could open easily. Some modern vehicles were impossible to break into. Still, some had known glitches that made them easy to hot-wire with a cell phone. She found the car she was looking for. She pulled out her burner phone and the charging cable in her back pocket. The door lock clicked. Slipping inside the car, she was met with the faint smell of old leather and a hint of gasoline. Hunching down in the driver’s seat, she winced at the pain in her side. She pulled off her coat and bundled it against the wound. Then she stripped her belt from her pants and used it to tighten the material against her injury.This isn’t good. Her heart beat a steady rhythm against her rib cage. The glow from the parking lot lamps barely illuminated the car’s interior, casting long, mysterious shadows that danced on the dashboard.
She revealed the car’s steering column using the burner phone’s flashlight. She removed a small, flathead screwdriver from her pocket with a practiced hand. Long ago, she’d learned to travel with a multipurpose tool, because you never knew when you’d need one. Unscrewing the lower part of the steering column, she exposed the jumble of wires beneath, then located the cluster of cables she needed. She stripped the rubber insulation on the red and brown wires with surgical precision.
She twisted the red ignition and brown starter wires’ exposed ends together before focusing on the white battery wire. She stripped it and carefully held the exposed part to the twisted pair.
The car rumbled to life. She untwisted the brown starter wire from the cluster, leaving only the battery and ignition wires connected, ensuring the vehicle remained running.
She quickly checked her surroundings, adjusted the rearview mirror and backed out of the parking space.
“Ms. Wilson?” she said, hoping her comms were working. She’d forgotten to check back in during the heat of her escape.
There was silence. She pulled out the phone and called the direct line. She got a busy signal.That shouldn’t happen.
“Denzili? Richardson?” she said into her comms, hoping she would still be linked to them via their satellite. No one responded.
She stopped at a red light. A sharp pain in her side caused her to grunt as she held her foot against the brake pedal.I need somewhere safe. She ran through the list of possible safe houses. She dismissed the idea of using any known property of The Foundation. Something was wrong. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she knew there was a serious problem.
An idea popped into her head.That’s just insane enough it might work. The light turned green, and she pointed her car to the Houston suburbs.
Chapter Five
Ethan
Ethan curled up next to Blayne on the back seat of the SUV. Kira sat in the passenger seat next to Ms. Z. Madeline leaned her head against the window. Ethan couldn’t see Jamie, so he presumed the young guy was curled up on the seat next to his mother.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Blayne asked.
“I think I’m still in shock. I can’t believe they wouldn’t give us answers before we left,” Ethan admitted. “From the look on Sarah’s face, I swear she wasn’t telling us everything.”
“I’m pretty sure she wasn’t telling us everything, Ethan. She’s an FBI agent. They’re not known for their openness and willingness to share information with the public.”
“I guess…I just thought… God, we are the public, aren’t we?” Ethan ran his hand through his hair before pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just… I can’t seem to put into words what it is I’m thinking. We just saw something happen…again. Let’s face it. With what happened last month, we’re still seeing conspiracies around every corner.”
“It’s okay. Our minds mess with us after trauma. I swear I saw the woman’s eyes today. Can you believe that? I think I recognized a pair of eyes. What’s the likelihood of that happening? I searched for it online once we had cell service again, and facial recognition is based first on someone’s eyes, then their mouth and nose. I doubt I could pick a pair of eyes from a lineup. In my head, her eyes are these giant black soulless pits.”
“You know, Dr. Secada warned us about this. She said that fear and hypervigilance, along with anxiety, depression and PTSD, are all things we can expect,” Ethan said. Sarah had helped Blayne and Ethan find a clinical psychologist with a low-level security clearance at Pennington University for the couple to talk with, which is how they’d ended up sitting in Dr. Esperanza Secada’s office several times a week.
“I know. I know. It’s just… Our lives were returning to normal.” Blayne looked at Ethan and smiled. “Well, anewnormal.”
“Me too, babe. Me too.” The SUV pulled to a stop. Ethan looked out of the front window and realized they’d already made it back to Blayne’s apartment. “Wow, that was fast.”
“The lack of traffic at this time of night helped,” Blayne said, stifling a yawn. “Excuse me.” He shook his head and wiped his eyes.
“I’m with you. I just want to crawl into bed and pass out. I just hope I can sleep.”
“Well, if you can’t, I’m sure we can think of something to tire ourselves out,” Blayne said suggestively.
“Oh, come on,” Jamie complained, sitting up before them. “Is that all you two think about?”
“I was talking about watching old episodes ofI Love Lucyon the television.”
“Uh-huh, a likely story. What’s next? You’re going to convince me you two are looking into purchasing two beds?” Jamie asked.
“He’s a cheeky one,” Ethan said.
“How did I get so lucky?” Madeline asked before she tousled Jamie’s hair. “Stop messing with them, dear. Let’s get you home and into bed.”
“Yes, Mom,” Jamie said in a half-patronizing, half-yawning manner. Madeline swatted him gently on the side of his ear.
