I feel a tremendous, almost animalistic need to get back to the motel, back to Naomi. I knew the forces arrayed against her were powerful. But I don’t think I knew just how big and deep this must run. Whoever is running this is high up and well-connected.
But what I have is not enough if I’m going to save her the way she wants to be saved. Using the system to bring justice. I should follow the SUV as far as I can.
I shift through the darkness. The SUV maintains a steady pace, never approaching the speed limit, making it easy to follow without drawing attention.
The truck stop appears ahead—a small collection of diesel pumps, the diner that's closed for the night, and a gravel lot where five semi-trucks are parked. The SUV pulls around to the back of the lot, where the lighting is poor. I circle wide, using the trucks themselves as cover.
Three men emerge from the SUV. Two from the front seats, one from the back. They carry heavy black duffel bags that are clearly weapons or drugs. Thankfully, not people, or I don’t know what I’d do.
The back doors of the semi open, revealing a hidden compartment built into what appears to be a legitimate cargo area. The bags are loaded inside, the compartment sealed, and the cargo doors closed again. The entire operation takes less than five minutes.
The men exchange no words, not even nods or hand signals. They clearly know this routine well. The driver of the semi, who hasn’t once looked back at the SUV or the men, climbs into his cab while the SUV team returns to their vehicle.
I need to know where that truck is headed. There must be some sort of manifest in the cab. If I can get a look at it, that might give us an idea of their network.
I wait until the SUV pulls away, until the men are gone, and only the truck driver remains. I slip forward, silent as breath. I don’t want to kill him. Not just because it would alert our presence here, but I don’t know the extent of this man’s involvement.
But I have a deep pit in my stomach, a sinking feeling that the only way I’m going to be able to protect Naomi is by killing. Lots of it.
But if I do that, become the monster again, I’ll lose what’s left of my soul. I could never be with Naomi. I couldn't poison her with my love. If I do it my way, I’ll save her life but lose any hope of being with her.
That decision is put off for now as the driver gives me an opening to gather evidence without bloodshed. He exits the cab and rounds the truck. I quickly locate the manifest hanging by the door. I don’t take the time to read it myself. I simply pull the phone out and take pictures of the pages.
I’m on the last page when I hear the trucker’s boots scuffing the ground around the front of the cab. I duck and roll underneath the cab just as he rounds the corner. I roll through the other side as he climbs in. He pulls away, and I slip back into town toward the motel.
I make my way back toward Naomi, desperate to see her. Not just because I want to be close to her. But because she’s changed everything. Had I been here alone, I would have had only one way to fix this. The old, violent way. But with her help, maybe, just maybe, we can do this the right way. End what evil is happening here—not with more evil, but with justice.
I hope.
Twenty
Naomi sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the phone. She looks up, concentration melting into disappointment. "There's nothing here."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure," she sighs, rubbing her eyes. "I've been staring at financial records for years. I know what to look for, and it's not here."
When I came back, the urge to hug and kiss her again was strong. It felt good to see her. Safe. But instead, I used every shred of discipline I’ve developed, launched into what I had found, and gave her the evidence to review. She had been scrolling through the photos and had spent the last ten minutes on the manifest. I watched her lips move absentmindedly as she studied the images, mouthing words to herself as she processed the information. I knew what those lips tasted like. Soft. Warm. Perfect. And God help me, I wanted another taste.
I force myself to concentrate and answer her. "Well, we have the pictures," I offer. "The cages, the tunnels. That'sevidence."
Naomi shakes her head. "It's not enough. We need evidence of organizational control. These could just be random bad guys. We need the bureaucracy behind it. We need the paper trail connecting this to official channels." She taps the screen. "But there's nothing in the manifest. It's just normal cargo listings."
"Maybe it's coded."
"No. Trust me, Walker, it's not there." Her shoulders slump slightly.
"I do trust you."
Naomi looks up, something soft and grateful in her expression.
"It's too bad we can't send this to Static. He might be able to help.”
"Yeah, but you can only send a few letters at a time because he's piggybacking..." Naomi’s face suddenly goes slack with what looks like a dawning realization.
"What is it?" I ask, straightening up from the wall.
"Maybe nothing," she mutters, tearing through her purse with focused intensity.
