26. Chapter 26
The only thought running through my head, as my old commander drones on about how I’m not actually working with them, is that I need to catch Tennison so I can come home and tell Willow I love her.
I’ve been so close to telling her a couple of times, but I held off. It didn’t feel like the right time.
And now I’m stuck in a meeting from hell and can’t even talk to her.
The other thing pissing me off? This entire conversation with my old boss. If he has it his way, I’d sit my ass here and let “the team” get Tennison. There is no way in hell that I’m not on the front lines with this one. He can berate me, threaten me, or whatever else he wants to do later, but I’m not sitting in this godforsaken office while Woodcroft and the rest of them go after this asshole.
My phone beeps in my ear, and I pull it away to see it’s Willow calling me. I almost let out a growl at the fact that I can’t answer the damn phone. She doesn’t leave me a message, but a minute later I see Sheriff stand up through the window of his office and put his phone to his ear.
He’s barely on the phone for a couple of minutes before he hangs up, and pulls out a paper map and starts studying it. Whatever that phone call was gave him something to run with.
“Listen, I promise I will be on my best behavior and not get anyone into more trouble. I know what I’m doing, sir.” And then I hang up. Perks of not actually working for him anymore, I guess.
Walking out of the office quickly, I move to stand over the map the sheriff has laid out.
“What’d you find?”
“Not me, Willow.” I jolt up at his words. “She said there’s a remote cabin in this area that would be the perfect place to hide, so I’m trying to narrow down the area, and find some entrance points and possible exits.”
That’s my fucking girl.
Woodcroft leans over the table, studying the area.
“Is there a direct path to this?” he asks.
“Probably not anymore. Willow was saying that unless you already know where it is, you won’t really be able to find it, but she gave me the general location, so we at least have that. I haven’t heard from Lennox yet, but he would be a big help with this too.”
“Alright, well, the rest of the team should be here shortly, then we can game-plan,” Woodcroft says.
“So, we’re supposed to just, what? Sit here and twiddle our thumbs?” Even I can hear the snark in my voice.
“Oak, man. We need back up.” Woodcroft isn’t fazed by me at all, and I’m thankful for his levelheadedness right now.
“I still think it would be good to come up with a plan before the team gets here. If we’re able to solidify things prior, then we can hit the road whenever they show up,” Sheriff says.
“I agree. Okay, so if we have an idea of where he is, we could just go find him,” Woodcroft says.
“No. He’s too smart for that. We need something to give him incentive to come out and play. He likes mind games; we need to play into that. He thinks he always has the upper hand, so we need to feed that.”
“Okay, what are you thinking?” Sheriff asks.
“A trap.”
“Oak, no,” Woodcroft says.
“He wants me; let’s give him what he wants. Or at least, the appearance of what he wants.”
“This is a fucking terrible idea,” Sheriff grumbles.
“Wood and I have been on this case for years. This is the only chance we’ll get to be this close to him, and we need to do something drastic. I know how to handle myself. It’s not like we’ll be throwing some unsuspecting person at him.”
“He’ll see it a mile away,” Woodcroft murmurs.
“No, he won’t. He’ll think that I’m playing the hero, trying to lessen the impact of his destruction.”
The three of us stare at the map in silence. They know I’m right. It’s the only way to get a leg up on Tennison.
Woodcroft lets out a sigh. “What exactly are you thinking?”
Three hours later, the U.S. Marshal Task Force Team fills the small space that is the sheriff’s office.
We fill them in on our plan of attack, and the five of them stare at Woodcroft like he’s completely lost his mind.
“We’re technically letting a civilian put himself in danger and lead the mission in order to catch Tennison, am I getting this right?” a guy named Peck asks.
“Sounds about right.” Woodcroft arches an eyebrow at him. His edge of authority brokers no room for argument, but that doesn’t stop the eyerolls and huffs from happening.
“This is a terrible fucking idea,” a new guy says under his breath. I haven’t had the opportunity to meet this one yet.
“Do you know why Tennison changed his routine? Do you know why he started traveling?” I ask the newbie.
He meets my eyes with nothing but defiance in them. “No.”
“Great, well, let me fill you in then, since you seem to know what the best move is.” I stand up and look around the room, making sure everyone is listening. “Tennison changed his routine because of me. He started traveling and leaving a calling card because of me. You want to know why he leaves oak leaves in his cuts now? Because my name is fucking Oakley. If you think for a second that I don’t understand the entirety of the situation, you can get the fuck out right now. We need help, but if you’re going to roll your eyes and not take this seriously, you’re out. I don’t need you fucking this up more than it already is.”
Sheriff and Woodcroft are sitting in the corner, covering their mouths, doing a piss-poor job of hiding their smiles.
“Anyone else have any comments or concerns?” I ask. A couple of heads shake, and the newbie bows his head, refusing to make eye contact. “Good, so let’s move on. We’re out of time, and this is the best shot we’ve had since he got on our radar.”
Woodcroft stands up, moving to the front where I am. “Here’s what we have so far…”
He fills them in on our very basic plan while my thoughts turn to Willow.
I haven’t had time to check in, and it’s killing me. But it’s not like I have anything I can actually update her on. We’re in the planning stage, and I’m sure once we get everything solidified, Wood will want to give everyone an hour or so to prepare and eat before we go after Tennison.
I can talk to her then. Hell, she’s just across the street. I can go over there and really show her how I feel about her before I leave. Because I need her to know or at least feel how much she means to me, just in case. No, we never think like that. No worst-case scenario. We will get Tennison, and I will be coming back to Willow.
I shake my head to rid myself of the morbid thoughts and focus on what I want to tell her when I finally put Tennison behind me.
I want to tell her I love her, but it also doesn’t seem like enough.
She’s the air I breathe, the future I never knew I wanted. The future I now know I could never live without. She’s the quirky, intelligent as hell sprite that keeps me on my toes.
And I love her.
I know without a shadow of a doubt that I’m in love with Willow Hutton, and now more than ever, I need to close this Tennison chapter of my life. I need to make my world safer so that Willow is never in jeopardy of my past coming back to haunt us.
I still feel that I have a lot to work on, and keeping my appointments with my psychiatrist will help with that, but it feels like a life with Willow is possible. I know she’ll help me when I’m struggling, and I’ll help her when she’s stuck.
Being back in the Task Force mindset is odd. I thought I’d miss it. I thought taking charge and going after the bad guy would make me want to go back, but it’s been the opposite. Sure, it’s like riding a bike, but I no longer feel the thrill of it. The high of going after a fugitive isn’t there anymore. This feels more like a necessary evil. And one I’m not particularly looking forward to.
“Okay, does everyone understand the plan?” Woodcroft’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
I look around the table and see everyone nodding.
“I’ve put in a call to our park ranger but haven’t heard back from him. I sent him a text, informing him to stay away from the eastern side but keep his eyes open,” Sheriff adds.
Lennox.
I know it’s the smart thing to do, but it worries me that he’s out there with no back up right now.
“When do we leave?” I ask.
“In five minutes,” Woodcroft says. “Pack your shit, and let’s head out.”
Shit. Shit. That doesn’t give me time to go talk to Willow. As I pack up what little I have, dressing in the extra vest and gear that the team brought with them, I vow to text her while we’re driving out.
Good intentions are all well and good, but they don’t mean anything when shit hits the fan.
And that’s exactly what happens no more than ten minutes later.