Chapter Five #3
“I didn’t recognize him,” she said truthfully. “But he might have known my twin. She was popular.”
Though she and Madison were identical, her sister oozed sex appeal.
Men threw themselves at her while they barely noticed Mollie.
Not surprising that Julio Flores fell in love with her from afar and used the Cartel to kidnap her.
Mollie frowned. His attention led to the explosion on the yacht.
Maybe being a bombshell wasn’t such a good thing after all.
Spence introduced her to Rossi, walked her around the green SUV and tucked her into the passenger side.
While he paused to talk with the security guy, she got settled.
Though she knew almost nothing about cars, she recognized the luxury model.
A Cadillac Escalade. The leather seat cradled her bottom.
A new-car smell freshened the air. The gauges and instruments on the dashboard looked like they’d been designed by NASA and detailed by experts.
She was beginning to realize that although Spence was a former soldier, he preferred expensive brands in his civilian clothes and possessions.
When she reached back to put on her seat belt, she found a white envelope twined between the straps.
How did it get here? Where was security?
The envelope was sealed and addressed to Mollie Harper.
That handwriting! She’d know it anywhere, especially the sharp points on the capital M.
Someone once told her that scrawl was indicative of a narcissistic personality.
Quickly, she folded the envelope in half and shoved it into a pocket in her shorts. She didn’t want Spence to see. Didn’t want him asking questions. Never mind how the envelope got hidden in his vehicle, this message was for her eyes only.
When he climbed inside and got behind the steering wheel of the Escalade, the overhead light and the dashboard illuminated the interior.
She turned away, not wanting him to read her expression and know she was hiding something from him.
He didn’t seem to notice. Just put on his glasses and drove through the airport to one of the exits where they needed to get past security checks.
The airport had been belatedly shut down.
His only comment seemed to be reassuring. “We’ll be at the safe house in less than an hour. Unless something happens.”
“What could go wrong?”
“Never ask that question. It’s like you’re tempting the fates.”
“I don’t want to do that. We’ve had our share of disasters for one day.” She touched the edge of the envelope in her pocket. Though tempted to tell him, she wouldn’t.
Instead, she gazed out the window as they drove through Salem on roads she remembered from her many trips in and out of the town, including her commute to her summer job at the coffee shop.
Spence drove on the curving road away from the airport through stands of trees and well-tended gardens in comfortable neighborhoods. Familiar sights.
“When we get to the cabin,” he said, “I need to rethink my plans for your trips into and out of Cloverdell. And the memorial service tomorrow.”
“Why will you rethink?”
“When I picked you up in Denver, I didn’t expect the gunmen who ambushed us.
” He stopped at the light on Commercial Street.
“They were dangerous but not exactly a state-of-the-art threat. Not like a sniper with a high-tech weapon. That rifle had to be military-grade, accurate up to three hundred yards. More than likely, it included a built-in sound suppressor.” He checked his rearview mirror.
“We need to be prepared for a well-financed, sophisticated enemy.”
“That doesn’t fit with what I’ve learned about the Peligro Cartel,” she said. “They’re pretty much out of business.”
He crossed Commercial and drove into a residential area on Madrona. “If you’re not being attacked by the cartel, who else could be after you and your father?”
“Nobody.”
“From what we saw at the airport, that ‘nobody’ is plenty dangerous and has access to insider info. For example, how did the sniper know where to find you in Salem?”
“Maybe he wasn’t after us. He seemed to be aiming at the marshal.”
“Maybe, but I don’t believe in coincidence.”
“The only person who knew where we were going was Marshal Tim Youngblood.” In their phone call to him, they mentioned the charter service.
He knew where they were headed from Denver.
But why would he work with a cartel? She stroked the envelope with the tip of her finger.
The answers might be written inside. “Why would he arrange to shoot another marshal? Was it a misfire?”
“Once might have been a mistake,” Spence said as he checked his rearview mirror. “Another hit in the other leg indicated highly accurate shooting. Might have been meant as a message.”
“Like what?”
“Something about the legs. A warning not to chase after the sniper. Or an example of how easy it would be to cripple us.” He looked at the mirror again.
She swiveled in her seat and peered through the back window. “Is somebody behind us? Do you think we’re being followed?”
“Yes.”