Chapter Twenty-Three #2
“Them,” Brantley corrected. “They played leapfrog with us for a while. There were three that I spotted. Someone must’ve tipped ’em off because they picked us up right after we turned onto Flat Creek Road.
Followed for a while, then swapped. We came to the end of that road, and they swapped again.
We pulled off for gas to shake ’em. Haven’t seen ’em since. ”
“What are we here for?” Atticus hoped Brantley would say they would be going in to search the house with them.
Brantley looked at Reese. “How do you wanna play this out?”
Atticus waited while Reese chewed, swallowed, then downed some of his iced tea. His gaze slid from one person to the next.
“I’ll take Archer with me,” Reese said. “In our truck. You and Atticus take his truck. We’ll go in first, see if we can catch the tail again, lead them out while you two go in from the opposite direction.”
Atticus stared at Reese, wondering if he could’ve come up with a plan like that. He was thinking they’d all go in, check it out. Reese’s plan was much more … coordinated and took into account that someone could still be watching them.
“We might have to walk in,” Brantley said.
Atticus wasn’t opposed to a hike. “How far?”
“I don’t know. A mile, maybe.”
Well, at least the Navy SEAL didn’t say fifteen miles. Or klicks, as he’d heard Brantley say before. Hell, Atticus wasn’t great at math, and trying to convert kilometers to miles, or vice versa, would take up a good part of his day.
“You armed?” Brantley asked him.
Atticus nodded. It had become second nature ever since he’d gone through training in Dallas.
“Good. Now eat. We’ve got some recon to do and we’re burnin’ daylight.”
An hour later—because apparently Brantley wasn’t in as much of a hurry as he had sounded—the five of them were walking out of the restaurant.
Atticus had managed to eat, but he’d been wary of how much, not wanting to chance getting sick.
As it was, the temperature had just broken eighty degrees Fahrenheit, and it was going to climb a bit more before the day was out.
Not bad, but he would’ve appreciated some cooler weather.
“Give us twenty minutes,” Reese told Brantley as he was loading Tesha into the truck. “We’ll keep you updated.”
Atticus nodded, then waited until Archer got in the truck before opening the driver’s door. He had expected Brantley to insist on driving, but he never did. And since he was already sitting in the passenger seat, Atticus figured he would be.
“You want me to key an address into my phone’s navigation?” he asked Brantley.
“What I want you to do is start the truck.”
“Oh. Right.” Atticus grinned, then inserted the key and started the truck.
Brantley adjusted the air vents. “Waste some time drivin’ around here, then head west on 290. We’ll come in the back way if we don’t hear anything from Reese.”
Nodding, Atticus put the truck in reverse and backed out of the spot.
For the next twenty minutes, he navigated through downtown Johnson City, being mindful of traffic laws. There weren’t many people out on a Monday, but there were enough that he had to stop a couple of times and wait for them to cross the street.
When he finally got on the highway and headed west, he could feel his anxiety ratcheting up a notch or two. He was excited, but also fearful he would do something to fuck this up. Since he was partnering up with the big boss, the idea of screwing it all up was making his stomach churn.
“Relax,” Brantley said. “It’s not rocket science. We’re gonna go in, do some recon, and come right back out.”
Unless Kylie’s there, Atticus thought. Then they’d have to alter their plans to save the girl.
He really hoped they got to save the girl today.
“Hey, boss. I think we’ve got a problem.”
Martin waited for the guy to elaborate. When he didn’t, he did his best not to grind his molars to dust.
“And what problem would that be, Able?” he asked, somehow managing to keep his tone civil.
“Those guys that were askin’ around about you are still here.”
“Still here, where?”
“Well, right now, they’re turnin’ on Flat Creek Road again.”
“Have they done anything newsworthy?’
“Uh… What’s that mean?”
Martin ground his teeth until he thought one would crack. “Have they done anything I should be worried about?”
“Like what?”
Oh, Jesus Christ. “For fuck’s sake, Able. Have they gone to the house?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Well, then, I suggest you keep an eye on them.”
“What if they go to the house?”
“Did Jerrel clear it out?”
“As best he could.”
“Then I guess they’ll go to the house and not find anything.” When Able remained quiet, Martin got nervous. “They won’t find anything, will they, Able?”
“No, boss. Jerrel cleared it out.”
This was what he got for hiring locals to take care of things.
“Keep an eye on them.”
“Will do.”
Martin ended the call and dialed Allison’s number.
As soon as she answered, he said, “Where are you?”
“Taking care of some things.”
“Are you in Johnson City?”
“No.”
At least she didn’t lie to him. The bitch was known to push his buttons, and she was getting worse the older she got.
“You need to get back there.”
“Why?”
“Looks like we’ve got company.”
“I need to take care of something first. Then I’ll head that way.”
“Where’s your partner?”
“He’s getting things set up.”
“Good. I’m glad to know you convinced him to do the right thing.”
She remained quiet.
“Call me when you’re back there.”
“Sure.”
The call ended, and he resisted the urge to throw his phone into the wall. He wasn’t sure how the fuck those backwoods rednecks had managed to find him. He’d been careful. Extremely. There should’ve been no way for them to narrow down his whereabouts to a city.
That was assuming they were looking for him. If they were looking for someone else … well, he hated to be the bearer of bad news, but that was no longer a problem he had to deal with.
It paid to have someone on your payroll who knew how to disappear people in a way they could never be found.