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They rolled along the two-lane highway deep in the Payette River canyon and into a tiny town called Lowman. Trevor pulled into the gas station, one of the few buildings in sight. “This thing eats gas. Look at the map. If I recall, we can drive south on this highway and cross a pass or take off straight west on a connecting road.”
Sam grabbed the map book. He was correct, but there were downsides. “The highway west would cut a lot of miles, but it’s a secondary road. I wonder if we could get stuck?” She didn’t want to get snowed in or caught in a landslide in the middle of nowhere. “Or we could go to Boise. We could fly back home or hide there.” But she was worried about her mom.
“I’ll ask about the road while I pay.” He trotted to the gas station. After returning, he pumped gas, filling the extra container he removed from the bracket on the tailgate, too. He got back in the Jeep and put it in gear. “According to the attendant, the road west is clear, and it’s a lot better than going all the way to Boise. Besides, we can’t fly. It’s too easy to watch for air travelers. But I don’t like the threat against our parents. With Koslov dead, the only thing bringing the Bratva to our town is Marcus City Bank.” He sighed. “We’ll have to convince our parents to leave until we get evidence against Sharlene Murphy. But I’m sure we’ll have to talk in person because they’re all stupidly stubborn. We’ll do our best to hide in plain sight. No one should expect to see us in this Jeep. Maybe we’ll stop in McCall for the night, or long enough to change our appearances. Then we won’t be so easily spotted on our way back to the Bitterroot.”
“Okay.” The idea of talking to her parents—or his, or all of them together—made her stomach burn. All four of them were stuck in a past that was long gone, in a religion twisted by men seeking power. She looked at the map again. “We could make it back today, and we’d be rolling in at night, when it would be harder to see us.”
“It’s also easier to hit furry creatures, and the highway twists and turns a lot. Let’s get to McCall and figure it out from there.” He turned on to the new road.
The ride was rougher, the scenery just as beautiful, if not better, and there were even fewer signs of civilization. They passed more hot springs, too. Sam gazed longingly at each one. She’d rather write a million convoluted documents than speak to her father. Dread settled in her lower back, twisting the muscles in knots. Maybe when all this was over, she could plan a girls’ trip with Erin, Deb, and Wiz—roughing it was more appealing with soaking nearby. There might be rental cabins, too. But vacations meant money, and all of them had businesses to run. Businesses that had taken big hits, especially Deb’s and hers. She’d be chained to her desk for the foreseeable future.
Not that she was missing work, exactly. Most of her tasks were routine. Some of it was a little too exciting, like estranged significant others threatening her, but that didn’t happen often. The Russian mob was on an entirely different level; she definitely wasn’t used to fearing for her life.
Trevor tapped the back of her hand, resting on the armrest between them. “Huh?” She turned toward Trevor.
He flashed a raised-brow look at her. “Are you okay? You seem sunk in your thoughts.”
“Yeah.” She couldn’t hold back a snort. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around running for my life. I filed a restraining order against a violent, soon-to-be-ex spouse once, and we’ve had some odd characters walk through our office doors. But this is way out of my comfort zone. I know we had to leave, but I can’t help thinking that if I go back, everything will be normal, and I’ll be just fine.”
Trevor opened his mouth, so she held up her hand. “I know that’s not true. I’m not doing anything stupid. But it’s crazy to me that we’re under attack in Marcus, Montana. I also feel really bad about abandoning Deb. She’s going through all this stuff, too, and she can’t run. She needs my help to recover.”
“You can’t help if you’re dead.” Trevor shot a glare at her.
Sam scowled at him. “I just said I understood that. I’m not stupid. But it doesn’t help with the guilt.”
“Survival takes precedence. You can’t do everything. Besides, Copperline Security knows how to run the PR game, probably better than you do. And Kim is good at it, too. Plus, the whole town is backing her.” He snorted. “Lawyers don’t get the kind of support cute cupcake bakers do, even lawyers as beautiful as you.”
That all might be true, but it didn’t keep Sam from wishing she was home, drinking wine with her friends. Being the only single in a group of couples didn’t seem so bad compared to running for her life. Especially with her ex. The ex who’d endured physical trauma, along with emotional abuse.
They drove the narrow highway, then emerged into a wide valley and turned north. Trevor cleared his throat. “If we’re returning, we should leave a traceable trail here. Is there a highway intersection anytime soon?”
Sam grabbed the map book at her feet and found the correct page. “Just past McCall, there’s another highway that returns to the south. But there’s not much that way.”
“Look farther north, then. Somewhere we can go west and confuse our trail, then return to Highway 12.”
Sam flipped the pages. “There’s a tangle of highways ahead around Kooskia and the Nez Perce Reservation. We could easily go to Lewistown and return.”
“Perfect. We’ll find a motel, and I’ll use one of my Bureau-issued cash cards to pay in the morning. Tomorrow, you’ll use a credit card for gas. And we’ll buy burner phones.” He flashed a grim smile at her. “It will look like we’re going west and running out of money. They won’t rely on that, suspecting a ruse. But then we’ll order some small stuff on your Amazon account for delivery to lockers in eastern Washington and Oregon. Things like device charging cables.” He huffed. “I should have thought about that before.”
Sam shook her head. “You’ve had enough to think about. Your boss should have done that.”
“She’s stretched thin. She has a ton to track down and hardly any people. Without hard proof, it’s difficult to know who’s trustworthy. We’ve got to find records from Koslov and Murphy. You’ve worked with Murphy at the bank. Does she take work home? Does her office have a safe other than the bank’s vault?”
Sam tried to recall Sharlene’s office layout. “She might have a safe in her office. Erin would know if there’s one in her house. But she’d keep nothing truly secret at her house. She’s always been extremely cautious and conservative. Employees sign draconian non-disclosure and non-compete agreements, and she’s sued former employees for breach.” Her least favorite kind of case; the big fish devouring the little one just trying to survive in a harsh environment. One of many reasons she no longer represented the bank.
“I think I read thieves and armed intruders had targeted Murphy’s house. She’s got a decent alarm system, as I recall.”
Sam smirked. “I’m sure the FBI can get around that easily enough, but that wouldn’t give you admissible evidence.”
Trevor shrugged. “At some point, we’ll decide convicting Murphy isn’t worth it if we can get the bigger fish. She hasn’t killed anyone.” His scowl implied the idea didn’t make him happy.
“Directly.” Her policies had contributed to more than one suicide.
“True. What are the chances that we could get her to turn?”
“Without evidence to pressure her? None.” Sharlene Murphy was a rat. Clever and fast, and pinning her down required enclosing her in a snap trap. Most of the time, Sharlene got the cheese and evaded the trap. If she got caught, it was the tip of her tail. “She’s smart and knows the law well.” Sam couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Besides, can you see her in protective custody? She’d never make it in some tiny town working for minimum wage in a crappy apartment. I think she’d literally rather die.”
Trevor tapped the steering wheel. “Would she kill?”
