He wasn’t sorry he’d said it, but he’d touched a match to the gasoline. If he didn’t get himself together and rein in his emotions, there wouldn’t be a next step or even a next hour for either one of them. He cleared his throat and focused, then pointed to the cell phone from the glove box.
“The phone no doubt has a tracker. There’s a possibility the truck does too.”
She allowed him to take the phone, and he opened the window and hurled it as far into the trees as it could go. The truck was an older model, might not have GPS built in, but it wasn’t inconceivable that Bullseye had a device installed to keep tabs on his employees. No way to know for sure.
“We should ditch the truck.”
She glared at him. “I’ll say it again, Gideon. I don’t want you around.”
“And again, I don’t really care what you want.” Just the right mix of cocky and certain. He rubbed his chin. “Did you really make a podcast to protect Lorraine?”
“Yes. In the middle of the night, after I got my phone back that you withheld from me.”
He didn’t take the bait.
“I’ve got it scheduled to post if I don’t return. The police will see it. I tagged an officer I trust.”
“High-tech vigilantism.”
“If it’s the only way to protect Lorraine, call it whatever you want.”
No sense creating another argument. It was going to be tough enough to get back to his Jeep and from there to the airstrip. She could be as furious as she wanted, but he intended to be a barnacle on her back until she was safely delivered to local police or, best case, got back home to Seattle.
He grabbed his pack and plumbed the deep recesses of the glove box. “Might as well see if Al left anything helpful before we ditch it.”
Giving him the silent treatment, she looked under the seats to do the same.
He located a slender packet. “Score. A stick of beef jerky.”
She held up the bounty she’d found. “Two old saltwater taffies and a visor.”
“We’ll write him a thank-you note later.”
There was nothing else of interest in the truck except for tools. They didn’t need any extra weight to carry, and he had a bare-bones assortment in his backpack already.
As they exited the truck, stinging needles of rain drilled down on them. Mackenzie zipped up her jacket while he stripped away the truck’s spark plugs to disable the engine. “If we can’t use the vehicle, neither can they.” A small satisfaction, but he’d take what he could get.
“How long to your Jeep?” she asked.
“We can’t travel at night, so I’d say we’ve got about five hours of hiking today and another two in the morning.”
“If we’re not caught by then.”
“Optimism, Bardine. I’m not going to let us get caught.”
Big talk. Would he be able to deliver?
“Your parents can bury you next to your brother.”
Over Gideon’s dead body.
He marched resolutely into the storm.
Eight
Gideon led the wayin the rain, which had increased to relentless sheets that seeped into the necks of their jackets. They’d found a ribbon of hiking trail snaking away from the road that would take them roughly in the direction of the bridge, but progress was slow. The ground was a bloated morass of grass and mud. As they tried to keep their shoes from sinking into the mire, he reran their heated conversation.
“You sound just like your brother.”
