19. ETHAN
19
ETHAN
The story has gone viral.
Graham is calling me with the news. After the encounter with the two men yesterday, I contacted him, and God bless him; he’s been hard at work.
Between the evidence he’s uncovered and what Yiva’s reporting has yielded, federal authorities have agreed to investigate.
We’re still not out of the woods.
Whitmore is still a free man and incredibly dangerous.
I’ve been keeping a closer eye out to make sure we’re not being followed.
I feel foolish for not being more careful before, and I have a throbbing pain in my leg to remind me.
Fortunately, the bullet had gone through without causing any permanent damage. As a SEAL, you are cross-trained in multiple areas of expertise, including medical corpsman, so I was able to patch myself up pretty well.
We’re holed up in an abandoned barn outside of Greenville, South Carolina.
My phone keeps pinging with texts from Yiva, informing me of what’s going on with the story.
With any luck, this will all be over soon, and we’ll be able to return to life as usual.
I don’t want life to return to normal, at least not like it was before Sophia and I connected.
Hard to believe it’s only been a little over a week since I pulled her out of the water after she nearly drowned, and now I’ve put her in a situation where she’s in just as much danger.
I’ve been wondering how I will break it to Liam that I’ve fallen in love with his little sister. I know he wants me to be happy, but I feel it won’t go well. He knows me too well.
But I’m not the same man I was a few days ago. Trauma has a way of doing that.
What I need him to understand, though, is that Sophia helped turn me into what I am today. I won’t revert to bad Ethan as long as she’s with me.
She has saved me in the same way I saved her.
I doubt he’ll buy it, but I can’t change what’s happened.
The temperatures here are more moderate than they were along the coast, for which I’m grateful.
We’ll be able to sleep in the barn and be out by first light.
We can then begin to make our way back up to Virginia.
The risk will be far lower by then, and with any luck, we’ll be home in a few days.
I’m not sure what I’ll find when I get there. Mother and Father will be furious, but I’ve grown a pair when it comes to them.
As powerful as they are, I now know how to damage them, and they know that now. The stories I can tell.
They’ll bluster, of course. They’re unused to being challenged. But then I’m a Blackwood, so I’ve been taught by the best.
I look over toward the spot where Sophia is bedded down. She’s asleep, lying on a towel, using some of her clothing for a pillow. And I thought the motel in Carolina Beach was a dump.
Judging from the last text I received from Graham, I might not need to worry too much about my family coming down on me. The feds are also beginning to look into their activities.
It probably won’t matter much. They have friends in the Justice Department as well. Still, it might just be enough to make them more careful in the future.
That’s probably just wishful thinking. They are what they are.
I won’t feel safe until Whitmore is in custody, and even then, will I ever really be safe? He has a long reach. He might decide he’ll have to be content with revenge.
Then again, maybe he’ll suffer the same fate as Epstein.
Many people stand to be incriminated if Whitmore suddenly starts talking.
It’s all still very much in flux.
I rub my eyes, realizing I could also use shut-eye, so I lay beside Sophia.
Between my injury and the hard floor of the barn, there’s not much chance things will get hot tonight, but maybe I’ll have sweet dreams.
I wrap my arm around Sophia, and she stirs in her sleep.
I hear a crack outside, and instantly my head snaps up.
The first thing I notice is the quiet.
I’m still feeling groggy, although the throbbing pain in my leg is clear enough.
After hearing the crack outside last night, I was keyed up for at least an hour.
I didn’t hear anything afterward, so I put it down to a small rodent moving around or some other natural sound.
The interior of the barn is still dark, but the sun is just beginning to cast an early glow over the landscape.
Rather than hear the chirping of the birds, things seem too still.
Once again, I’m instantly on alert.
That almost always means a person, or multiple persons, are nearby.
My gun is sitting atop an old milk crate a few feet away.
Wearing only my thin boxers, I creep over to grab it and make my way over to one of the windows at the back of the structure.
There is no glass in the windows, only rough openings covered by simple wooden shutters.
I had pulled the car around back to keep it out of sight from the road, but it was still out in the open since there was nowhere to really hide it.
Anyone could easily spot it—and maybe someone had.
I couldn’t see anyone, but I could hear footsteps moving around the side of the old barn.
I carefully creep over to where Sophia is still sleeping.
Placing my hand over her mouth to prevent her from screaming, I gently shake her awake.
As I expected, her eyes grow wide, and she attempts to let out a scream.
I put my finger to my lips and repeatedly point outside until she understands that I’m trying to tell her to keep quiet; someone is outside.
A voice suddenly booms out, “Alright, whoever you are in there, come out now with your hands up. I havea shotgun, and I sure as hell will blow a hole clean through you if you make one false move.”
It’s a tough decision.
Somehow, the owner of this voice doesn’t sound like he’s a pro.
For one thing, it sounds like he’s alone. Professional hitters almost always work in pairs.
It’s a calculated risk, but I think it’s one worth taking. Doing otherwise could put Sophia at more risk.
I set my gun down, but keep it within reach..
“If we’re trespassing, I’m sorry. I thought this barn was abandoned. We were just getting ready to leave.”
“We?”
“Yes,” I respond. “I’m here with a friend.”
“Well then, both of you come out. No funny stuff.”
“OK,” I call out. “I’m unarmed; we’re coming out.”
I push open the door, being careful not to make any sudden moves. I reach back and position Sophia behind me so she’s not in the direct line of fire.
It was hard to tell in the early light, but the man standing there with a double-barrel shotgun looks to be in his sixties with a rugged appearance. It’s hard to tell with his shaggy beard and uncombed hair.
“That’s far enough,” he states when we are fully outside.
“Now what are your names, and what are you doing here?”
“My name is Ethan Blackwood, and this is my friend Sophia Delgado. We were just passing through and didn’t have a place to stay. We’re sorry if we’re on your land. We’ll be moving along immediately.”
His face changes, and a slight smile tugs at his lips.
“Blackwood, you say?”
“Yes sir.”
“Seems you’re famous, son,” he announces, lowering his weapon.
“I am?” I ask, wondering what he’s talking about.
“You responsible for those two bodies they found in North Carolina?”
I nod slowly, not wanting to go any further or make any admissions I may later regret.
“Shit son, your name’s all over the news,” he says with a laugh. “You sure as hell kicked over a hornets’ nest. The cops wanna talk with you, but it sounds like they’re more interested in the two guys you popped and where they came from.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not sure I’m ready to talk with them.”
“Hell, son, your secret’s safe with me. As you might imagine, we have sort of a low opinion of law enforcement in these parts. We like to handle things ourselves. Tell you what, why not come over to my place up the road? Me and the wife will feed you; you can take a shower and be on your way.”
“Name is Ed, by the way, Ed Kramer,” the man says.
I stumble a bit as I move forward, heavily favoring my injured leg.
“You gonna be OK?” he asks with concern.
“I’ll be fine. One of the men got me in the leg, but it’s through-and-through. Just need to keep it bandaged up.”
“Well, you can do that up at the house, too.”
“Much obliged,” I say, trying to mirror his folksy dialog, one of the tricks I learned that helps to make a connection with people. “If it’s not too much of an imposition.”
“Not at all. You get dressed and gather your things. We’re just up the road there on the left,” he says, motioning to a little frame house just visible at the top of a low hill.
“See you two in a bit,” he says, walking away.
“Can we trust him,” Sophia asks, as we walk back into the barn.
“I think so. If he wanted to do anything to us, he had the chance.”
We dress quickly and pack our stuff in the car. We have plenty of money, so it’s not a matter of not being able to afford breakfast, but it’ll be good to have a homemade meal for a change.
We get in the car and drive up the hill.
“What if he kept us alive so he could turn us into the police—or someone even more dangerous?”
That’s possible, I think, but for some reason I trust the old man.
As we pull up to the house, the man is waiting there for us.
I open the door, but as soon as I exit, he raises his shotgun, pointing it right at my chest, a dangerous expression fixed on his face.