21. ETHAN
21
ETHAN
The van with darkened windows is four cars back, pacing us.
I find it hard to believe Graham could possibly have been followed, but now Sophia’s fears are beginning to play on my mind.
It’s not impossible.
Still, this vehicle doesn’t fit the profile.
Then again, if they’re smart, they’ll know we’re on the lookout.
We picked them up outside of Roanoke, and they’ve been following us for the past fifty miles.
I’ve slowed down and sped up, but they seem to be staying right with me.
Time to put an end to this.
I’m not sure where the next exit leads. It’s poorly marked, and there don’t seem to be any services available.
From the left lane, I wait until the last minute and swerve across the right lane, taking the exit at high speed.
To my relief, the van does not try to follow. They don’t even seem interested.
Shit!
Sophia has got me so keyed up, I’m not even trusting my own judgment.
So, this is what love does to you?
I’m not so sure that’s a good thing.
The pain in my thigh is still there, but by constantly popping Tylenol, it’s at least bearable.
I haven’t done any planning, so I'm not sure where we'll spend the night.
I had picked the empty barn last night because I thought that would be the safer option, but it doesn't seem to matter. It seems like wherever we are, we're just one step away from being caught.
I think we'll go back to staying in crappy motels. At least there's a bed to sleep in.
With any luck, we'll be back in our own beds soon.
I know Sophia's family must be going nuts. If they follow the news, at least they have some evidence she's still alive.
As for my family, if, as Graham claims, the net is closing around them, they probably wish I was dead.
I'm pretty sure that as tight as Liam and I are, this will change our relationship forever.
More than the fact that she and I became romantically involved, I knowingly put her in danger.
For that, I truly am sorry.
I never expected things to spiral out of control so drastically—or so quickly.
I pull over to the side of the road. I need to figure out where we are.
There is no highway on-ramp at the exit we got off on, and, in fact, according to Google Maps, this road doesn't exist.
We haven't seen a single car since we exited, and it's a spooky feeling.
If someone wanted to ambush us, this would be the place to do it.
I don't know if I would be comforted or afraid if I spotted a car.
Comforted because that would indicate that we haven't totally escaped civilization or scared because why would anyone else be out here?
Getting back on the road, I continue to head in the direction we were going. This road has to go somewhere.
I begin to get less and less sure as the road narrows and seems not to have been maintained in several years.
Tall weeds and brush line both sides of the path, actually encroaching on the pavement in some areas, and it’s becoming clear that this might literally be a “road to nowhere.”
Suddenly a huge sign looms up at the side of the road: RESTRICTED AREA, NO TRESPASSING BEYOND THIS POINT. It is unlawful to enter this area without permission of the Installation Commander. Use of deadly force is authorized.
Holy shit!
I slam on the brakes.
A tall hurricane fence topped with razor wire is directly ahead, and a small guard post sits behind the electronically controlled gate.
It doesn't take a military background to know this is some really sensitive stuff.
Now I know why we haven't seen any other traffic.
As I turn the car around, I see two large uniformed men emerge from the hut, automatic rifles at the ready.
I'm not interested in an encounter. I’ve seen enough guns.
I head back the way we came, taking a deep breath.
We'd have to find another way back onto the highway.
That's the thing about the heavily wooded stretches of rural North Carolina and Virginia. All sorts of military posts dot the landscape, and if you weren't careful, you just might run into one.
I can only imagine how sideways things might have gotten if they had forced us to stop.
Me, with a gunshot wound, fake IDs and carrying a handgun, and Sophia—well—they'd probably think I had kidnapped her or something.
Of course, they'd soon find out we were also wanted by the FBI for questioning.
I was familiar enough with military security protocol to know that the men at the gate had recorded our license plate and photographed it with the security cameras mounted on the gate.
It might be a good idea to ditch the car soon.
Running the plate wouldn't do much. I had legitimately purchased the car in Virginia ... under a false name, of course.
But those guys were pretty good at putting various pieces of seemingly unrelated information together to form a complete picture.
I can't be sure what might come of it.
I don't think Whitmore has his claws in the military, but I can't be certain.
I have half a mind to drive up to D.C. and camp out in some motel just outside the city limits.
Kind of like having a ringside seat to the aftermath when it actually comes.
If it ever comes.
For the first time, I'm having doubts about the ability of the press and law enforcement to actually follow the evidence. Granted, investigations take time, and it's only been a few days, but our luck, such as it was, couldn't last forever.
I look over at Sophia and smile. For an amateur, she is holding up remarkably well.
It occurs to me that maybe I always had an innate sense that she is more than just a pretty face.
The fact that she has always been generally unimpressed by me, my looks, my money, my power, appeals to me.
She knows who I am—probably better than I do.
She is what I have been seeking, a woman who can challenge me intellectually and speak her mind, especially when she knows something is not right.
Maybe I need someone whose moral compass works better than mine.
I’ll never understand why the Great Dismal Swamp is called what it is.
It’s actually quite beautiful.
In fact, when I was a kid, I went camping with a few other guys on the football team back in high school, and we came out here.
The seedy little motel where we’d decided to make camp for the night was on the western outskirts of Chesapeake, Virginia.
On the surface, it might seem like an odd choice, being so close to home, but it’s almost counterintuitive. If people think you’re running away, they won’t be paying as much attention close to home.
At least I hope not.
I’m feeling confident enough to suggest to Sophia that we take a short walk down to the little park at the trailhead.
The trails that wound down to Lake Drummond are quite scenic, but with the hole in my leg, that’s out of the question.
Despite the fact that I don’t anticipate any trouble, I slip the pistol into my waistband.
As we travel the short distance from the motel to the trailhead, I reach for her hand and we walk along hand-in-hand.
It may be hard to believe, but it is perhaps the most intimate non-sexual contact I’ve ever had with a woman.
And yet, it seems so natural.
The pain meds appear to be wearing off, and my limp becomes more pronounced the farther we go.
She looks at me pitifully. “I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn't have agreed to this.”
“No, it’s good,” I tell her. “If I don’t move, it'll stiffen up. I’ve been sitting most of the day. Need to get the blood flowing.
Recovering from a wound like this is always a double-edged sword. The doctors tell you to rest it, but with inactivity, the muscles that are mending tend to get tight. It’s up to you to know when enough is enough.
Fortunately, a bench is nearby, and we sit beneath the shade of a large moss-draped pin oak.
“I am sorry for dragging you into all this,” I say, propping my injured leg up on the bench, “but I’m not sorry I got to spend the time with you.”
“As I recall, you didn’t exactly drag me kicking and screaming; I came along willingly.”
“I lured you under false pretenses,” I countered.
“That is true, but you didn’t know it at the time. You wanted to do the right thing. In the end, maybe we did—if this all works out.”
I stare at her for a long moment. “For all these years, I thought you were just Liam’s bratty little sister, but it turns out that you are an intelligent, resourceful, and very sensual young woman.”
“I’m glad you think so,” she laughs.
Reluctantly, I drag my attention away from her lovely eyes, sparkling with life, dragging my phone out of my pocket to check the news.
I stare at the screen on my phone, and the headline screams out at me: Lena speaks.