Chapter 12 #2
“You two safe?” Bartlett sounded calm, which was a nice surprise.
“For now.” He gave his boss a quick update on everything that had happened since they’d last spoken. “We needed to shake the tail.”
“You remember what I told you?” Bartlett asked. “We need this client. We need to do this job well with minimal screw-ups. Which is the opposite of what you’ve done so far.”
As if Asher should worry about the fate of the company. He walked away, lowering his voice. “She’s still alive. The necklace is still with us. You tell me what I should have done differently.”
That brought a beat of silence. “I wasn’t there.”
“That’s right, you weren’t, so you’re going to have to trust me.” Asher didn’t appreciate being second-guessed. He might not have worked for GBPA for long, but he’d always gotten the job done and done well. He was good at what he did. The fact that they were still alive proved that.
“I’ll trust you when you quit dillydallying and get her home,” Bartlett said.
Dillydallying? He sounded like Asher’s late grandmother.
“What’s your plan?” Bartlett demanded.
“Still making our way there. I think the client has a mole, told Cici’s father to tell him in person, which he said he’d do.”
“That would explain how they keep finding you.”
“Gavin Wright sent a car for us in Concord, which we didn’t wait for. Call and tell him we’re safe, and tell Forbes the same, but nothing else.”
“Done. You got a clean phone?”
“Yup. A few of them.”
“Good. Be safe out there.” Bartlett ended the call, and Asher handed the cell back to the police chief. “Thank you.”
“I can get you wheels,” Thomas said, “but probably not for a few hours. I’d have one of my guys drive you somewhere, but we’re short-staffed as it is. Can’t spare anyone tonight.”
“A car would be great. We’ve been on the road—”
“And on the run,” Cici added. She’d been unusually quiet since they’d stopped.
“That too.” Asher glanced in her direction. She looked okay, a little pale, maybe. “What we really need is a place to rest,” he said. “A cabin, somewhere remote. Somewhere we can regroup. Rustic is fine, as long as there’s Wi-Fi. Any suggestions?”
“I can get you that. And a hot meal.”
“You read my mind.”
“More like heard your stomach growling.” The man smiled, setting Asher at ease. “Stretch, move around. I’m gonna make another call.” Thomas walked away, and Asher turned to Cici.
“You okay?”
“A little groggy. Sorry if I…” Her cheeks pinked, and she dipped her chin. “I managed to get some sleep.”
“I noticed. You were drooling.”
“Was not.” She grinned. “Anyway, sorry if I got too comfortable.”
She’d curled up beside him like a kitten, and he hadn’t minded one bit, though it seemed safer not to say that. “Glad you got some rest.”
“Did you?”
“If the chief comes through with a place, I’ll sleep tonight.”
They walked deeper into the woods along the narrow path, chatting about nothing important—mostly food, proving she was as hungry as he was—then returned to the truck to find Thomas seated on the tailgate.
The three of them waited in strangely comfortable silence until a second man arrived driving a Camry—tall, fifties, with the same cop-like bearing.
“This is a friend of mine,” Chief Thomas said, “Garrison.”
The man sized them up, then regarded the chief. “You into human smuggling now?”
“Something like that.” But he was smiling. “I’ll explain later.”
“Gotcha.” Garrison motioned to the sedan. “Climb in.”
Asher shook the chief’s hand. “Thanks. We appreciate this.”
Cici thanked him, too, while Asher stowed his duffel bag in the trunk. He opened the passenger door for her.
After she settled, her purse in her lap, Asher sat in the back beside a brown paper bag that filled the car with delectable scents. Something fried, and maybe a hamburger?
He hoped the food was for them.
Garrison drove about fifteen minutes before turning off the narrow country road and parking in front of a log cabin deep in the woods.
He shut the car off. “My wife owns this place, so be careful with it.”
“We will.” Asher opened the door and climbed out.
Cici stood, too, and gazed around. The world was awash in greens and browns, all pines and oaks with the occasional white birch to brighten it up. There were no other cabins in sight. “Thank you so much for letting us use it. For everything. You have no idea what this means to us.”
The man smiled at her. “Happy to help.”
Garrison gave them the food, along with a couple of grocery sacks he’d stowed in the trunk. He handed Asher a folded piece of paper. “If you need help.”
Asher angled the phone number toward Cici, who said, “We’re trying not to use our phones.”
“There’s Wi-Fi. Call over the internet, or even text. All the info is in a binder on the kitchen counter. Someone will be back tomorrow. Not sure if they’ll drive you somewhere or bring you a car or what. Brady’s working on it.”
Asher dropped his duffel so he could shake Garrison’s hand. “We’re grateful for you and your friend. You might’ve saved our lives.”
The man grinned, nodding to Cici. “No trouble at all. Have a good night.” He jogged back to his sedan and drove away.
Asher pushed open the door and followed Cici into a cozy little haven—bare log walls, a stone fireplace, and a beige couch and love seat facing a round coffee table.
The living room bled into the kitchen, a small, efficient space with a big table off to one side.
Through the windows on the back wall, he spied a patio and, beyond that, a small pond.
It was idyllic.
Asher set the bag of food on the counter, his shoulders loosening. They’d survived another day. They were safe, for now.
The sun dipped low, casting a golden glow over the small pond beyond the screened-in patio where Asher and Cici sat, the cool evening air a relief after the truck’s stifling heat. They’d both taken quick showers. Asher had been eager to wash away the stench of the swamp that clung to his skin.
Now, the forest added a melody of croaking frogs and buzzing insects batting against the mesh between them and the night. Fireflies flickered around bushes on the edge of the property, growing brighter as twilight deepened.
Garrison and Chief Thomas had supplied a feast—a burger, a chicken sandwich, onion rings, french fries, a container of rich clam chowder, and a couple of oversized cookies.
Cici claimed the chicken sandwich, Asher took the burger, and they poured the soup into two bowls, sharing the fries and rings.
They sipped lemonade they’d found in one of the grocery sacks, not talking much beyond remarking on the meal.
This place reminded him of where he’d grown up.
Not the cabin itself, which might be small but was much nicer than the trailer he and his family had called home.
The land, though. The forest, the sounds, the smells.
All of it brought back memories of Asher’s childhood, climbing trees with his brother, or catching lightning bugs and trying to keep them in a jar.
They’d poke holes in the metal top and enjoy them for a few hours.
Amazingly, the little bugs always managed to escape by morning.
In retrospect, he’d realized Mom had let the poor creatures go after Asher and Drew went to bed.
When the last cookie had been reduced to crumbs, he pulled a laptop from his duffel bag.
“What else do you have in there?” Cici eyed his bag. “A rocket launcher? A three-course meal? A parachute?”
“If I’d had food, I’d have scarfed it down hours ago.”
“Hmm. I noticed you didn’t deny the rocket launcher and parachute.”
Chuckling, he set up the laptop and connected to the cabin’s Wi-Fi.
“Should you do that?” Her joking tone was gone as she straightened. “They can track your IP address.”
“I’ve got a VPN. A virtual private—”
“I know what it is. You sure it’s secure?”
He gave her a look intended to convey This isn’t my first rodeo.
When she said nothing else, he opened his email and found a message from Bartlett that contained a link to an online folder. It was packed with lists, mugshots, and articles about people involved in or suspected of being involved in Philly’s organized crime.
“Whatcha got?” Cici asked.
“Bartlett came through.” He angled the screen so she could see, and she scooted closer to study the information.
Asher clicked through each file quickly. When nothing jumped out, he slowed down, studying each mug shot.
None looked familiar to him.
Cici shook her head. “Maybe the guys following us aren’t organized crime?”
“Maybe.” He gazed at the photos on the screen. “They’re definitely organized, and definitely criminals, so this seemed like the place to start.” He clicked on one of the lists, then began the painstaking task of pasting each name into Google and searching for a photo.
There were hundreds of names.
They’d gone through about ten when he stifled a yawn.
“I feel the same way.” Cici sat back, frustration etching her face. “We’re never going to find him like this. Can you cross-reference the names with Maine?”
Asher raised an eyebrow. “Why Maine?”
“That’s where Forbes’s parents lived, where the necklace was stolen. It just makes sense that the thief is from there, or somewhere in Northern New England. New Hampshire, Vermont?”
“You’re assuming the man tracking you stole the necklace. What if he bought it from the thief?”
“No.” She spoke the word as if there were no doubt.
“The necklace never hit the black market. If the thief sold it, then he had to have known the buyer personally, and the buyer would have to have been willing to spend money on a piece of jewelry he could never showcase, a collector who didn’t care about showing off his collection.
Those people exist, but they’re rare. Usually, when something as famous as The Crimson Duchess is stolen, the thief already has a buyer lined up, but this was a crime of convenience.
I’d bet money the thief has held onto it all these years. ”