Chapter 3

 

Hope watched the man run out of her sight, without a single misstep or visible change in that long stride. She told herself he was gone and good riddance. He had no reason to turn her way and yet she was more frightened now than when he’d stared right into the camera lens.

Every nerve in her body told her to run. It didn’t make any sense, considering she was one of only two people out here in the middle of nowhere. But he was armed with a rifle and she only had a pistol in her day pack. He could take her out from a distance and she’d never have a chance to defend herself.

With significant regret, Hope scrambled to remove the camera from the tripod, get both items into their respective cases and cover them to the best of her ability with the spring grasses. She had the location pinned on her phone app and with any luck, she’d survive and come back before the equipment was lost to the elements.

Only money, she reminded herself, tucking her smaller camera into the day pack and sliding it over her shoulders. She was already moving out of the area as she clipped the strap around her waist.

Prioritizing on the run, she decided the best thing was to put as much distance as possible between her and the tripod. She thought of the man’s rifle, his seemingly indefatigable pace and wondered if this was an exercise in futility.

Though the campsite offered safety and access to escape in her truck, he might very well find that and simply wait for her to return. Going deeper into the wilderness gave her the advantage. Probably.

Glancing back, she swore at the inevitable trail of bent grass in her wake. A blind man could follow her path easily. She pushed herself to run faster. Distance was her only ally. Well, distance and the instinct prodding her that he would come looking for her.

Reaching a creek running high with the winter runoff, she hunkered down behind the bank to scan the wide expanse for any sign of pursuit. Her boot slipped on mud as she crept along and she lost her footing, her knee landing hard on a rock. The spike of pain was forgotten an instant later as a chunk of the bank exploded over her head, leaving a divot behind. The rifle report cracked through the air a split-second later.

All the confirmation she needed that running was the smart decision. She had just become the prey in this scenario.

Hope dropped into the rushing creek, heedless of the biting cold as the water seeped into her boots and soaked her jeans. It was the best way to cover her tracks and give herself a chance to survive.

He was a foreigner on protected land. If she could get somewhere safe, with a decent cell signal, she could inform the authorities of the trouble.

*

He’d missed. Missed. That wasn’t normal. It certainly wasn’t the benefit he anticipated after being told repeatedly that things would go his way in the field. He looked at the rifle, the trigger, checked the sight. He should be advancing on a good kill by now.

Wasting time berating himself for the error wasn’t going to get him to the rendezvous on time. Not to mention how his target could use the reprieve to her advantage.

He secured the rifle once more and started running. Her path through the grass was so clear he almost didn’t need his enhancements. The details hurt his eyes as he took them all in, noticing every little thing. His nose could discern her scent under, around and through all the other scents out here. The tread of her boot prints lit up like beacons as she raced toward the shelter of trees clinging to the banks of the nearest creek. He could hear it clearly, despite the distance and the breeze in his ears. The water tumbling along its way, disrupted by the splash of something bigger than a fish.

Now that was cool.

He didn’t believe he’d volunteered to be a guinea pig for the man in gray, he was almost pleased with the result. To use these skills on his own terms? He could be the best… Hell, he didn’t know what he’d be beyond what they’d made him. As if the self-confident thought was an infraction, his foot snagged on a clump of grass and he pitched forward, arms wheeling before he caught his balance.

Huh. He hadn’t made a misstep in miles. He waited for the voice to admonish him or ask for an update, but there was only silence.

Unsure how to interpret that detail, he kept going, relentless in his pursuit. He knew the lab-coated doctors working for the man in gray had a tracker of some sort on him. Nothing else explained their ability to pinpoint him and guide him into or out of every location, be it exercise or mission.

He’d checked his body head to toe for implant incisions and come up empty. Drones might be involved, but with his enhanced hearing, he surely would have heard them in the air. More likely they’d chipped him like a dog, except those devices required much closer proximity to be read. Whatever they’d put on him or in him was something else entirely.

This whole situation was something else entirely, he thought, sliding down the bank of the creek inches away from where the woman had done the same. Pausing where she must have turned back to check if she was safe, he wondered again how he’d missed, how she’d known when to dodge.

Maybe she was in the program too and they had folded a new-trainee exercise into his mission. Definitely a possibility within the nature of the system, he thought. No matter. He intended to follow his orders and get back. Nothing was quite as bad as skipping a dose of the highly-addictive drug they kept him on.

Seeing the slash of her boot print on the muddy bank eased his mind. It had been dumb luck rather than skill or knowledge on her part. Anticipating where he’d find his bullet, he crossed the stream. Digging it out, he tucked it into the cargo pocket on his pants leg and resumed his search for the witness.

The footprints disappeared where she entered the creek to hide her trail. Definitely a smart move. He couldn’t pick up any trace of her with his vision. Standing in the middle of the creek, he looked upstream and down, then closed his eyes. When he’d heard the splashing it was downstream. Picking his way along, hiding his tracks with the water as she had done, he followed the audible clues through the winding waterway.

There, another splash, barely perceptible under the shallow tumbling song of water over rocks. Opening his eyes, he moved cautiously as the sound had been closer than he expected. Had she stopped? Doubled back?

Something was off. Her scent was too close to the water while the sounds were too far away. If this was the first chink in the armor, if the enhancements shut down and he failed to complete the mission, he’d be found and killed.

Death was the only logical outcome. Leaving a witness put the system in jeopardy. He’d only been in the program a few months, but failure and death were as inseparable as peanut butter and jelly.

He paused, closed his eyes again as he searched for her with his other senses. He turned, a beat too late, and a stone connected with the side of his head. Hard.

“Pointer, report! Status…”

The voice in his ear echoed from a distance as his knees buckled. He dropped, boneless into the creek, unconscious before he could register the chill of the water.

 

*

In Eagle Rock, John wrestled with the news about the JAG officer’s death. The murder itself was bad enough, but the motive… John and Amelia assumed Messenger ordered the hit because the military lawyer had seen too much.

Naturally, without any hard evidence, witnesses, or a statement from the perp, the authorities could only speculate. Current theory was obvious: Harbison, enraged with the JAG officer’s failure, chose revenge over his previously untraceable escape from prison. The murder scene and Harbison’s face on the surveillance recording renewed the manhunt for Scott and Jesse Carlyle too, the third soldier who had been railroaded and subsequently liberated from prison at Messenger’s command.

Damn. John leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling in the office he shared with his wife. Scott carried new, reliable identification but John wouldn’t rest easy until he and Ben were back on the ranch. That should be later this afternoon, assuming they weren’t stopped along the way. With luck, they’d return with some helpful information the authorities hadn’t yet found or hadn’t shared with the press.

Amelia kept hitting brick walls, muttering about the way Harbison seemingly appeared out of nowhere behind the convenience store, dumped the body, and walked away, never to cross another surveillance camera again. Having spent years doing Messenger’s bidding in the States and abroad, John knew the authorities would never find a valid lead on Harbison unless and until Messenger threw him out of the program.

Brooding over it, he pushed away from his desk and headed to the back porch, for the clear air and gorgeous view of the Crazy Mountains. Hard to believe this was his new backyard. He’d never really thought to have a home again. Or find a woman who could love all the fractured pieces of his heart, he thought, as Amelia joined him.

He slid an arm around her waist and she leaned in, the warm steam of her tea rising between them, lending another layer of happy normalcy to the moment.

“Feeling okay?” he asked.

“It’s a good day. This second trimester is less volatile and far more comfortable, just like it says in the books.”

Smiling, he rubbed his chin over the top of her head, his eyes still on the mountains. The interior of the house was done, including a sweet nursery waiting for furniture. He knew she was willing to listen to him discuss the murder, but he wanted lighter thoughts for a few minutes. “Have we decided on a crib yet?”

She gave an amused little snort. “I’d rather wait until after the ultrasound.”

“That isn’t pushing it? This isn’t Boston or Los Angeles where a full nursery can be ordered in the morning and delivered by the end of the day.”

She tipped her face up, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Afraid you can’t get the crib together in time?”

“I’m not afraid of anything,” he replied with an overdone bravado that had her laughing. “Mission accomplished,” he said, laying his lips on hers in a gentle kiss.

They both knew he was petrified about screwing up fatherhood. It helped that she kept reminding him he was doing such a fine job as a husband. At least they’d found a way to have a home base. No more running, unless it was to Bozeman for her prenatal exams. The surrounding acreage gave them space to breathe and work without undue worry. Between the technology he and Ben had installed and the extra eyes they hired from Hank Patterson’s security firm, no one could sneak up on them out here.

It was nice not looking over his shoulder every hour of the day although the habits that had kept him alive through so many challenges would never be completely abandoned. “You’re overthinking it again,” Amelia murmured. “This is a wonderful place to raise a family.”

“If you say so.”

Her palm stroked up and down his back, soothing. “You only have to look to Hank and Sadie for an excellent example.”

“You’re right.” The former SEAL and his Hollywood-star wife had been raised in the area and now raised their own daughter here. The four of them were becoming friends, something else John hadn’t expected.

Amelia turned her back to the mountains, leaning against the porch rail to study him. “And still you’re tense.”

“It’s the body in Arizona,” he admitted. “What do you think that JAG officer knew or saw?”

“With Messenger, what does it matter?” She sipped her tea. “The man was involved, isn’t now, and therefore he’s a wildcard. Can you imagine if Scott or the others managed to tell their lawyer what really happened after they were sentenced?”

John whistled. His thoughts had taken a different route from hers. “Dumping the body in public was either an operator mistake or a deliberate move.”

“Deliberate,” she mused. “An operator making a mistake would have popped up on another surveillance feed by now.”

He agreed with her. “Could it be a test failed or passed?” he wondered aloud. “If Harbison did the killing as well as the dumping, do you think we’re too late to save him?”

“It wasn’t too late for you.” A smile curved her lovely lips. “If we’ve learned anything in the past few years, it’s that no one is too far gone.”

“I hope you’re right.” John looked to the west where Scott and Jaime had settled in to the house on the neighboring property. The five of them were committed to making this a clearing station for the operators who wanted out of the Unknown Identities system. It wouldn’t be easy and there was no way to call their choices one hundred percent safe, but they couldn’t let Messenger rebuild. Until they located the new lab or proving grounds, or found a way to put Messenger down for good, this was the best option.

Assuming it didn’t all blow up in their faces.

Unlike the authorities in Arizona, Messenger had good reason to believe Scott was dead and that John and Amelia would have quickly vacated the Eagle Rock area. John could hope Messenger had a bigger focus, but he had a gut feeling his old boss was breaking all of the previously iron-clad rules to rebuild his stable of super-soldiers. For years John had been one of the men who followed those orders. First out of fear, then resignation having given up hope that the next op would actually be the last as Messenger kept promising.

The black-ops leader had made a similar promise to Scott, in the form of a morality test. “He ramped up so quickly with Scott,” John murmured.

“Yes.” Amelia pressed her palm to her side. “But he didn’t take the time to test, train, or alter him.”

“That’s what’s bugging me most.” She merely arched an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain his concerns. “He invested heavily in making those three men look like killers. Why then toss Scott back into the world so quickly?” John stalked away, bracing a hand on the corner post when he ran out of porch.

“If it was a test for us, we passed.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t know for certain and it created a restlessness he didn’t know how to overcome.

“John.”

He turned at the sharp tone.

“We’re safe here. We’re being smart by enlisting outside help,” she added. “Whatever new tactics Messenger employs, we will take him down eventually.”

“It’s the damage he could cause until that eventual success that worries me most. Maybe we should—”

She held up one finger, stopping him. “You are not allowed to suggest we move.”

He realized that was exactly where his thoughts were headed. He held up both hands in surrender. “You’re right.” Shoved those hands into his pockets. “Part of what’s bugging me is staying put. I’m not used to it. All this time keeping you safe has involved being quick to evacuate or adjust.”

“It’s new for both of us,” she admitted.

“I need to keep you and the baby safe.” He leaned forward, his arms caging her and rested his forehead against hers.

“You will. We will keep each other safe. Scott and Ben are helping. Hank and his team are helping. The town is helping.”

“The town?” He eased back, looked into her stunning eyes. “How and when did you enlist them?”

Her laughter bubbled over. “It’s a small town. New cars and people stand out, stir up talk and gossip.”

He wasn’t convinced. “It’s growing. And there are tourists each season.”

“When was the last time a UI operator was mistaken for a tourist?”

She made a valid point. Still… “If we bring someone here who can’t be saved, or leads UI back to our door…” The statement was too dark to speak aloud.

“We’ll handle it.” She set her cup on the porch rail and slid her arms around his waist, resting her cheek on his chest. “We always do.”

She was his everything, she’d made him whole. If she could rest easy here and look to a future raising a family here, he would do everything within his power to keep it a safe place.