“Site 17. She said it’s got a good view.”
He drove the loop slowly, checking the numbers on the posts. Site 17 was near the back, trees on one side and a view of the mountains on the other.
Siren got out and walked the perimeter, checking for site lines and potential weak points. She hadn’t seen any sign of surveillance since Fate Mountain, but she couldn’t let down her guard. Not with Reed to protect and a conspiracy against shifters to solve.
Other campers were spread out along the loop. A retired couple in a silver Airstream were parked two sites down from hers. A family with young kids were tent camping across the way. A solo guy in a truck camper was near the entrance to their loop. None of them set off any alarms.
She went back to their campsite. Reed had a fire going already and the camping chairs set up beside it. Siren sat down on one of the camping chairs, considering her next move. It was the first time since the ambush that she had some direction and room to maneuver. She needed to get in touch with Dom. Tomorrow’s meeting with Garrett Cole would give her further direction. Tonight, there wasn’t a lot she could do but wait.
The retired couple from the Airstream walked over. The man was tall with white hair. The woman was shorter, rounder, with a cheerful face.
“Evening neighbors,” the man said. “I’m Bob. This is Linda.”
Reed stood from the firepit and shook their hands. “Michael. This is my wife, Sarah.”
Siren nodded, smiling in greeting.
“That’s a nice rig you’ve got there,” Bob said, nodding at the van. “We thought about going that route, but we wanted the separate shower space.”
“Where are you folks from in Nevada?” Linda asked.
“Henderson. It’s a suburb outside of Las Vegas,” Reed said, grinning.
He enjoyed this cover a little too much.
“Oh, how nice. We’re from Minnesota. Headed home after wintering in Arizona,” Linda said.
“Well, you two enjoy your evening,” Bob said.
“We will. You too,” Reed said.
Siren watched the older couple walk back to their Airstream.
“You were quiet,” Reed said, tossing another log on the fire.
“Sarah’s an introvert.”
The sun was setting, casting the campground in golden evening light. “How about spaghetti for dinner?” Reed asked.
“Sounds good. I need to call Dom.”
“I’ll cook,” he said, straightening. “Do what you need to do.”
Siren climbed into the front seat of the van while Reed puttered around in the back. There wasn’t enough privacy anywhere else in the campground to make this call so she settled for letting Reed hear her side of the conversation instead.
Dom answered on the first ring.
“ Situation Report,” he said.
“Package secure. Resupply complete at the Montana contact. New docs, new vehicle, clean plates. Currently mobile, en route to new Wyoming asset.”
“Copy. Status on your cover?”
“Intact. No indication of surveillance since the ambush. I’ve been running counter-surveillance the whole route.”
“Good. Cover story for the package is holding on this end. His father controls his employment, so that’s locked down. Local law enforcement is treating the brewery incident as an isolated homicide. Possible drug connection. Cartel activity in the region makes that plausible.”
“You’re still sitting on the recording?”
