His gut tightened. “All roads lead to Rome,” he said lightly.
She stared at the two points. “With Al and Jerry on our trail, it’s smarter to split up, isn’t it?”
“Disagree. Never the best option for IP.” He waved a hand. “Isolated personnel. We’ll stick together and I’ll get you to the airstrip like I promised.”
“I didn’t ask for that promise, if you’ll recall.”
Yet he’d gone ahead and made it anyway. “Like I said, I’ll see you to the airstrip.” And then he’d figure out how to get her home. “We travel together for now.”
“For now.”
Until it was all over and they parted ways. Permanently.
He put batteries in the small transistor radio from hispack and tuned into the local weather, keeping the volume lower than the raging storm, then carried it up the bunk bed ladder with him.
The mattress was thin, the springs creaking and groaning as he settled, but his limbs were immensely comforted by the six inches of lumpy foam. Didn’t matter that there was a dip in the middle from the previous occupant. There was no more comfortable bed anywhere, he was sure. He wrapped himself in the wool blanket and silently thanked God for bringing them to safety.
But if they could find the fire tower, so could Bullseye’s people. They’d know their quarry would have to secure shelter.
He wondered if they were closing in right then. He set his watch alarm. He’d give himself an hour of rest and then do a security check.
And just what are you going to do if you spot Al and Jerry with guns pointed? Waiting for you and Mackenzie to come down?
One problem at a time, Gideon.
The rain pummeled the glass windows, mirroring his turbulent thoughts as he tried to force his mind away from the killers prowling below.
****
Mackenzie expected to fall asleep in a flash. Instead she found herself staring at the bunk above her. She was amazed that Gideon had provided a hot meal. Her body still tingled with delight at those precious, succulent—and most of all, warm—mouthfuls. And the man knew thenutritional makeup of a praying mantis. Who stored that kind of information?
“I never wanted anyone to suffer or not make it home because I didn’t know what to do.”This from the man she’d judged for refusing to help her get justice for Aaron and failing her brother as badly as she had herself. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore; the pieces of her long-held beliefs about Aaron and Gideon no longer fit neatly together.
The storm raged, slashing at the sides of the tower. Occasional rumbles of thunder sounded before lightning lit up the space in garish neon slashes. Her thoughts rolled and rumbled too, refusing to allow her to relax.
“Gideon?” she said softly. “Are you asleep?”
“Yes,” he quipped. “So don’t say anything too important because I can’t hear you.”
She smiled and took a breath. It had to be asked. This was possibly going to be her only chance because she had no idea what would happen at the airstrip. “What did you mean when you said you couldn’t cover for my brother again?” The question seemed to hover in the air, crackling like the lightning that forked the sky outside their haven.
He was silent a moment. “It’s not important. Get some sleep while you can.”
“I’m wide awake. Tell me. I have to know.”
“Not now.”
“Yes, now.” When he didn’t respond, she bumped the bottom of his bunk with her foot. “You must have noticed that our chances of getting out of this are growing slimmer all the time. If we actually manage to survive Al and Jerry, the dam and the wilderness, and get home, we aren’tgoing to be having coffee or bowling together anytime soon, you and me.” Especially since she’d probably be in jail. “There are hours until morning and this is the perfect time, so let’s have it. All of it. Now or never.”
“I don’t think so, Zee.”
She was going to fire with both barrels, let loose the rage she kept in check as best she could, but instead she swallowed an unexpected lump in her throat and sat up, climbed out of her bed, and rested her elbows on the side of his bunk so she could see him.
“I’m tired, Gid. Tired from everything.” And her body felt suddenly as if it would quit on her at that very moment. Each mile in their journey had taken a toll, but so had everything else. The moments that had morphed into days and months and years. All of it. The truth began to pour from her like the storm.
“I’ve been tired for two years, since Aaron was killed. Tired of hiding and sleuthing and sneaking and cover stories and podcasts.” Tired, even, of who she’d become, the avenger, the truth seeker who would use anyone and everyone to get what she was after. “I’ve gotten closure for others, solved their cases, but not Aaron’s. I want the truth. All of it. Please, Gid. Just tell me.” Why was her voice so desperate and thin? And why did it wobble when she said his name? She sighed.
There was an extended moment of silence, and she thought maybe he wouldn’t speak at all until he rolled on his back, stared up at the ceiling, and cleared his throat. “Our senior year Aaron and I worked at The Dog House.”
