Chapter 5
FIVE
Caleb
I’m losing it. I must be. A few hours ago, when Brooke told me about this location, my instinct was to insist she cancel.
For the last ten hours, I’ve been overthinking every scenario, running through all the hazards.
All because Brooke has an insane desire to be the world’s first Christian Gonzo journalist.
She’s far too headstrong to consider how much of a risk this is. I doubt she’s factored in all the variables I’ve had to account for.
The geography alone is a nightmare. Like all civilians, Brooke has no understanding of what it takes to consider all routes, traffic patterns, chokepoints.
Situational awareness is everything. So is proximity.
If I had it my way, I’d be glued to her, offering tight body cover—not the perimeter shadowing I’ve had to settle for .
I adjust my vest and peer through the window. The sky’s black, the mountain barely visible against it, adding to my unease.
Guarding a civilian is just about the hardest assignment there is. They have no idea of the potential danger. No training and no clue that if they die, it’s going to haunt you for the rest of your life.
“That’s got to be her,” Brooke says.
I crane my neck and follow her line of sight. A woman, hair slicked back in a ponytail, around five-six, wearing a Wildcats sweater, leggings, and faded Brooks running shoes, has just climbed out of a Mazda sedan.
I jot the plates down and ready myself to move. “Stay near the truck. I’ll be concealed nearby.”
Brooke’s shoulders tense. “If she sees you…”
I grunt. “She won’t.”
With a heavy sigh, Brooke nods, her eyes locked on the woman as she waits outside the entrance. Slowly, she exits, and I do the same, slamming the door at precisely the same time she does and using the shadows as cover.
Now on high alert, I perch the SIG MCX Rattler on top of the Pathfinder and scan the empty street, watching for anyone loitering in doorways, shadows that move, cars slowing down, or parked with people inside slouched low, like I just was.
I might have dual-tube, military-grade thermal and night vision on my scope, but if the threat is her source and she’s carrying a knife, I may not have time to act.
Brooke raises a hand in greeting and I shift position to combat-ready. The buttstock presses into my shoulder. I squint through the optic, barrel aimed at the closest threat. Full engagement stance. My muscles bunch. I shift my weight, ready to run, ready to shoot.
Brooke is relaxed, her posture open and friendly. I start to pray. Lord, help me see if anything changes. If I miss anything. Guide me. Strengthen me. Keep my focus. Help me get her home safely.
Brooke gestures for the woman to cross the road so they can get closer to the Pathfinder.
Her source is even younger than I first realized—barely twenty—and Brooke wasn’t exaggerating about her terror.
Her eyes won’t settle. She’s looking around as if expecting something to leap out of the shadows and grab her.
Even with the eerie green of my night vision and the warped radiant heat signature distorting my view, there’s a manic look to her.
This just keeps getting better and better.
As they approach the Pathfinder, I ease the rifle off the truck and shift to a tactical carry as I reach for my FLIR BNVD-Fused goggles.
Once they’re on, I creep into the bushes, crouch low, hit record, and hope I’ve gotten a clear enough shot for Hightower to run facial recognition and search NCIC for criminal activity .
I wait, coiled, ready to strike, when Brooke’s voice makes a cold sweat break out. “—closes soon, but if you’d feel safer, we can take a walk. I have a flashlight.”
I grit my teeth. She’s blatantly ignoring my instruction not to take the trail. The girl replies in a shaky voice. “Thanks. I just… I feel like he’s everywhere.”
Praying God’s got angels on standby, I wait until their footsteps fade, then ease to standing and quietly hit the trail after them.
Using every skill I have to tread softly, I creep closer.
Close enough to move, far enough not to spook her source.
I step lightly, gently placing the ball of my foot first, then rolling to the heel, controlling my breathing and avoiding anything that could give me away.
Staying off the center of the trail as much as possible, I keep to the shadows and time my steps to Brooke’s.
Stop when she stops. Stay six paces back so I can keep her in my sights.
The girl is talking too quietly for me to hear, but I don’t need to know what they’re saying to watch Brooke’s back.
They stop, and I freeze, body rigid, steadying my breathing.
“Did you hear something?”
The girl. She starts to turn, and Brooke speaks. “It’s probably a coyote. ”
I swallow, pulse thrumming, and take a step back, blending into the shadows.
“I—I don’t know,” the girl says.
Brooke’s voice is cool and calm. “Why don’t you give me the files you copied? You might feel better not walking around with them in your pack.”
The low hum of my goggles fills the silence. Brooke offers one last incentive. “I’m not going to force you to do anything. You came to me because you said you couldn’t stay silent any longer.”
With a heavy sigh, the girl slides the backpack off her shoulders and unzips it. “If he finds out I gave this to you…”
“He won’t. When I write the story, I’ll make sure it reads like it was his own stupidity that lost him the information.”
My lips twitch. Woe to the man who gets on Brooke’s bad side.
“He’ll hate that. He thinks he’s a genius.”
Brooke’s voice tightens. “He may well be. But no one is above the law.”
So this is about criminal activity? Terrific. Brooke’s really in deep. No wonder she has a reputation with the cops.
Footsteps crunch on the trail behind me, and I stop breathing. Not fast. Not erratic.
Deliberate.
Too smooth for wildlife.
I angle my body slightly, hand drifting toward my side. One step. Then another. Still measured. Still coming.
I thumb the safety off, every muscle tightening as adrenaline surges through me. Please let this be a dog walker. A park ranger. Someone out for air—a nurse, a med student, anyone who won’t make me draw.
But the footsteps don’t pause. Don’t falter. They’re coming straight for us.
Brooke
Eliza Moreno. I finally have a name to go with the breathless voice I’ve been conversing with. With a jolt of excitement, I tuck the three-ring binder under my arm and squeeze it, holding it tight.
As Eliza looks at the flicker of city lights below us, I raise my voice slightly so Caleb can hear me. “Shall we head back?”
Her face is cast only in shadows, but she nods. “Yeah. I’ve got a—he might call.”
I turn, flashlight on the trail so we can see where we’re stepping. “Your boss calls this late at night?”
“It’s… he’s… complicated,” she says.
Oh. Oh. “You’re sleeping with him?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer, just drops her head to stare at the dirt.
I squeeze the folder tighter. I should’ve brought a pack. No matter; we’re only a few minutes from the trail entrance. To resist the urge to look around and try to guess where Caleb is hiding, I glue my eyes to the track and keep Eliza talking. “You’re studying engineering at U of A?”
“Yeah. Environmental Engineering with a focus on water resource management. I’m minoring in GIS.”
I kick a fallen rock out of our way. “Is that Geographic Information Systems?”
She laughs lightly. “Boring, huh?”
Even though she can’t see me, I shake my head. “Not at all. Water management is essential. Even more so in Arizona.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
She sounds so despondent I wish I could say something to cheer her up, but I can’t think of anything that won’t sound glib. I could pray. I should pray for her.
Something shifts in front of us. Not an animal. Not the wind.
Footsteps—fast, purposeful, too close.
Caleb? Not likely. He promised to stay hidden, and I know full well how stealthy he can be.
I stop. Eliza does too.
“Did someone come with you?” she asks, freezing. Her eyes widen as they dart to mine.
I wince. If I say yes, she’ll think I betrayed her trust. If I say no, she might grab the folder and run. Hearing my mom’s voice in my head, I go with what I value most: honesty.
“My tires were slashed the night we were supposed to meet. I… a friend of my brother has been keeping an eye on me.”
A tiny whimper escapes her frozen face. I rush to reassure her. “It’s probably unrelated. I don’t shy away from heavier stories. People don’t like their secrets being exposed.”
She doesn’t respond. Her shoulders start to shake, and she backs up, preparing to run.
Though I’m trying to sound unflappable, I’m anything but. Whoever’s approaching isn’t stopping. Any second now, they’re going to be on us. Where is Caleb? My pulse thrums. My chest tightens as I struggle to breathe and stay calm.
Ahead of us, someone coughs.
Eliza curses. “He’s followed me. He’s here.”
She grabs my shirt sleeve. “Hide the folder. Throw it away… hide!” Her fingers claw into my arm, nails digging in.
“I can’t do that. I’ll lose it.”
Her voice drops to a whisper. “Please. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”
I try to pry her fingers off my arm, but she won’t let go. “Eliza, no one is going to hurt you…”
A voice, hard and familiar, cuts into my sentence. “Hands where I can see them, buddy. Nice and slow. ”
Caleb. Just ahead.
Eliza shrieks and grabs the folder from under my arm, yanking hard. “Give it back. I changed my mind. I don’t want to do this.”
Caught off guard, I try to reason with her before she throws the entire thing into the arroyo beds. If she does, I’ll be out here all night looking for it. “Don’t panic. It’s just Caleb, making sure no one bothers us.”
But she’s not listening. She’s so freaked out, she’s ready to run down the trail in the dark. As I try to gently convince her to stay, Caleb is having his own very loud battle, making it even harder.
“This is a public trail; I’m allowed to be here!” an indignant male voice echoes toward us.
“Doing what exactly? You’re not wearing trail boots, you have no pack, no water?—”
Eliza bolts, taking the folder with her.
Without thinking, I take off after her, flashlight bobbing on the trail as I watch her ponytail swing. “Eliza!”
I give chase just long enough to see her hurl the file into the desert brush. Her hoodie vanishes into the darkness between the saguaros.
Gasping, I double over, clawing for breath and trying to make sense of what just happened. I had it in my hands, and now it’s gone.
Thanks to Caleb’s heavy-handed tactics… both Eliza and my story are gone.