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Michael wasn’t sure where he could take Deb, but if he figured it out, he didn’t want it broadcast. His place was easy to find, and all his friends lived in Marcus or far away. “Deb, if 911 is still on, hang up. Got any ideas on where to go, Wiz?” He pulled over, checked the road, and did a U-turn.
“This is Tom. I’m texting you directions to a friend’s hunting cabin. You might have to walk the last part if there’s still snow up there. The place is winterized, so you’ll have to clear the water lines and all that, but I’m sure you know more about that than I do. There should be propane and canned goods. We’ll bring you some stuff in a few days.”
Relief unknotted the back of Michael’s neck. “Great. Thanks, Tom.”
“We’ll bring more weapons, too. After you get Tom’s text, turn off your phones,” Wiz said. “And I mean all the way off. If you know how, remove the battery. Don’t take them to the cabin. We’ll bring you a burner phone. Smart watches, too. Check the truck for Air Tags or Tiles.”
“Shoot!” Deb raised her hands to her forehead. “I’ve got to tell my employees.”
“Do it right now, Deb, then turn off the phone,” Wiz said. “Tell them there was a threat, and you’re closing for everyone’s safety for at least a week, maybe two. Give them paid time off so you keep them. I’ll front you the money, no rush on paying me back. And don’t say no. This is an emergency. I’ll contact Sam. She can talk to the police and the press. We’ll all keep an eye on the bakery. I’ll tell Nic and Kim what’s going down. Deb, take this time to decompress. A mini wilderness retreat. We’ve got your back. Go now. Wiz out.”
Deb‘s phone chimed. Probably the address. He checked their surroundings again—nothing but dark farmland—pulled over and grabbed his phone off of Deb’s lap, checking that she’d hung up with 911. She was typing; most likely, a group text to her employees.
Tom had sent him directions, not an address; he was fairly certain it was high in the mountains above the West Fork of the Bitterroot River. As a bored teen, he and his friends had cruised the dirt roads of the Bitterroot and Sapphire mountains, drinking, smoking and building bonfires, but it had been many years since he’d been in the area. He pulled his contractor binder and yanked a blank page from it, scribbling the directions by hand, using the top of the metal binder, so his writing wouldn’t leave an impression on the pad for someone to find later if they had to abandon the truck.
Then he turned off the phone, removed the case, the backing, and then the battery. Deb was struggling with her phone’s case, so he took it from her and did the same, then handed her the phones, still in pieces. “There’s an old metal tool box on the floor behind your seat. Put both of those in there, along with your smart watch. I’ll put the batteries in the console, here.” He slid the thin rectangles into his binder pocket, then put the whole thing back in the console. He didn’t bother wearing a watch.
Deb hung over the seat, and metal clanged. He looked away from the tempting sight. No sense in making his life more difficult. When she flopped into the seat, face flushed, he put the truck in gear and drove at four miles above the speed limit. “I’ve got a few things with me, but not a lot. I’ll get gas on the south side of Marcus and look for hidden trackers. You run inside and get the stuff you’ll need for a couple of days, like a toothbrush, comb, that kind of stuff. Do you have your purse?”
“No. I’ve got nothing but the clothes I’m wearing and my keys.”
Shifting to his left, he yanked his wallet out of his back pocket. “See how much cash I’ve got in there. We’ll need a full tank, but I can probably risk putting that on a card, as long as we’re moving out right after that.”
Deb shook her head. “How is this my life? I’m not a criminal, but I’m on the run like one.”
“It’s not fair, Deb.” He put his hand palm up on the truck’s middle seat console, and she put her much smaller hand in his. “I’m sorry your ex got you into this. Or Sharlene Murphy, or whoever else is at fault.” He squeezed her hand lightly. “But it really doesn’t matter why or how. What matters is staying alive. We think about the here and now, and planning for the future. Multiple plans. Don’t think about the past.” He was used to planning for the worst case scenario, then doubling down, but Deb wasn’t.
She pulled her hand away, and he let go, reluctantly. She pulled bills out of his wallet. “You’ve got sixty-seven dollars.”
That would barely fill the tank. “Okay, we’ll stop in the middle of Marcus, where the main roads cross, and fill the tank with my credit card. Stay in the truck. Then we’ll stop on the outskirts of town, where fewer people will be around, and get supplies. We’ll use cash, so get only what you need. If it was later, I’d go to a thrift store for clothes, but it’s too early. I’ve got another jacket and some raingear in here, so get a t-shirt and if they’ve got any, some underwear.” Heat rose in Michael’s cheeks. “We’ll hand wash and make do with what we’ve got. I’m sure Wiz will bring you clothes.”
Deb scoffed. “Wiz won’t think of that, but Sam will.”
“Point.” They entered Marcus, driving just above the speed limit. “Look for anyone or anything out of place.”
“Like what?”
“Like the TriWestCo guy’s Mercedes. Or a gathering of vehicles, especially if they’re all the same make and model. Or vehicles flashing their lights while parked.” There were undoubtedly other examples, but none came to mind; he’d know it when he saw it. At one of the main intersections, he pulled into a gas station, stopping at the last pump in the row. “Keep an eye out, Deb.” He turned off the truck, but left the keys in the ignition, ran his credit card and filled the tank. He surveyed his surroundings, then slid under the truck, checking for trackers. Then he ran his fingers across the many nooks and crannies of the truck, but found nothing. When the pump clicked off, he finished and drove away, pulling behind a station at the edge of town with a larger store.
He put on his coat, slid his weapon into his coat pocket, and led Deb inside the brightly lit store. He gathered canned goods, bread, coffee, energy bars and a case of bottled water, because starting the water pump might not be easy if the cabin was snowed in. He joined Deb; she had toiletries, some clothing, and small packages of flour, sugar, and baking things. He tapped the baking powder. “Is that necessary?”
She scowled. “Unless you want to die, yes. Baking is stress relief.”
He held up both hands, palm out. Surrendering to her needs for non-security issues didn’t bother him. Maybe because everything she made was delicious. “Got it. Don’t want to get smothered in my sleep.” Not that she had a prayer of doing that, even with her unusually strong hands and arms. Her sweet smile bloomed, making him feel like a superhero.
He paid, putting it on his card after all. If the bad guys could track his purchases, they’d know he was going south. But from here, they could go farther south into Idaho, or east into southwest Montana, or into the Bitterroot or Sapphire mountains. And he’d have a little cash left for bribes if necessary.
They carried their supplies to the truck and drove into the darkness. Light glimmered beyond the Sapphire’s heights on his left, but he kept a sharp eye out for wildlife. They drove through the tiny town of Darby. Michael was ready to turn off the highway if it was blocked, but they made it through. Rather than taking the quickest way to the West Fork, he drove on, and took the next turn. There were no houses or stores at that intersection, so it was less likely someone could track their travel on a surveillance or doorbell camera. He’d feel better if he’d found a tracker; he had no way to look for an electronic signal. He continued along the tree-lined two-lane highway, the darkness fading into overcast skies.
He turned onto a dirt road, and began the long, slow drive up into the mountains. Initially, the road passed practically through the front yard of three houses; he hoped they didn’t have doorbell cameras or other surveillance. As they climbed, the road became rutted and roughened; the spring rain and snowmelt had run fast and hard. Deer bounded in front of him twice. As the road climbed, snow appeared on the sides, then the middle of the road, the tracks narrowing; probably ATVs.
Spotting an opening in the brush to the right, he turned, bouncing and jolting over the even rougher surface of the partially snow- and ice-covered road, ending in a circular clearing probably used for camping. Or teen bonfires. “This is where we leave the truck.” He circled the area, pulling to the side of the clearing, where it was shielded from the road by brush, and pointed the nose of the truck out for a quick getaway. “I’ll put the truck keys under the driver’s side door. There’s a ledge where the step attaches. That way, we won’t have to carry the keys. Come around and I’ll show you.” And if he got taken out, she could still drive away. Hopefully.
Deb’s plastic bags rustled and she joined him, grimacing at the squishy mud below their feet. She wore flimsy tennis shoes decorated with sunflowers; something else to take into consideration. They’d have to find shelter soon, or her feet would freeze. He moved his concealed weapon to the front of his waistband, pulled his big duffle bag out of the back, threw his extra clothing and emergency gear into it, then slid his arms into the handles, making it into a makeshift backpack. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was easier than carrying it in one hand, and allowed him to carry the case of drinking water. And it left both hands free to fire, if he dropped the water. He locked the truck, stowed the keys, checked that the back utility boxes were secure too, then set off for the road, Deb following. Where the camping spot’s access track met the dirt road, he scuffed the tire tracks with his boots, and kicked some snow across the entrance.
Deb tried to help, so he held up a hand. “Don’t. Your feet will get wet enough in those shoes. Walk in the dirt tracks as long as you can, then get on top of the snow.” He looked at the sky. The clouds were heavy but not dark. “Hopefully it will rain or snow.”
“After we get there, right?”
