Chapter Twenty-Two

Eric

I sit on a bench beneath a tree a short way off and watch the car. More specifically, I'm watching the cars that come and go from the rest stop, looking for the cowboys. I honestly don't know what I'm going to do if they show up. I have no weapons and there are two of them against me – not exactly the best of odds.

All I can do is run.

I pull a pack of cigarettes out of my jacket pocket, shake one out, and light it. I inhale deeply and let the thick plume of smoke out slowly. I watch it rise into sky, disappearing on the slight breeze. I keep an eye on the entrance to the rest stop, tensing each time a car turns in. Not that many cars have turned in at this time of the morning, but there have been a few.

But the cowboys haven't turned up yet, which is a good thing. Of course, if they find us here, we've got a bigger problem on our hands. Which leads me back to the original question that's been floating through my head ever since they showed up at the hotel – how in the hell did they find us in the first place?

Sure, the easy answer is that the lady who sold Calee the bus ticket gave her up. It seems to be the most logical conclusion to draw. But something about it doesn't sit right with me. Something about that theory seems a little off. If the lady had gone to the trouble of selling her a ticket under a fake name and hiding her out until the bus got there like Calee said, why would she turn around and give her up?

Unless Raymond's men tortured her for the information. That was possible. And after seeing the goons at the hotel, I didn't have a whole lot of trouble believing them capable of doing just that. But would they risk the backlash from the townspeople and the local authorities?

From everything Calee told me, the people in town already hated Noah's Children. The cops were always trying to find something to bust them on. She'd told me they even brought the Feds in pretty regularly. But they'd never been able to find anything to bust them for.

Raymond was apparently very good at covering his tracks. Calee said that he'd been operating his cult for a long time, which means that for him to be able to cover things up – things like murder, rape, pedophilia – as well and efficiently as he does, he has to be very smart. Very detail oriented. And very good at keeping a low profile – and torturing an old woman is not keeping a low profile.

The theory of Occam's Razor suggests that the simplest answer is usually the right one. Which means that Raymond's thugs torturing an old woman for information is the most logical answer – and probably the right one.

Which suggests that Raymond came by his information by way of the bus ticket lady and from there, a drive around Fort Collins, which isn't an enormous place, until they found her. And once they found her, they followed her, intending to grab her in the middle of the night.

But then, that theory doesn't entirely hold up either. If they'd followed her, they would have known about me. And they would have known she was in my room when they showed up to grab her. Something is off and not everything is lining up.

I'm probably overthinking the whole thing. But that's what I tend to do sometimes. Obsess and overthink something to death. I think though, that's also part of what makes me a good doctor. I'm never satisfied with the first answer and will always keep digging for something better.

I take another drag of my smoke, watching the entrance to the rest stop.

“You're a doctor,” Calee says. “And you smoke? Isn't that like hypocritical or something?”

I look up as she sits down on the bench next to me and laugh softly. “Probably so,” I say. “Bad habit I picked up in the service. Don't smoke all that often, but sometimes it helps me clear my head and lets me think straight.”

I hold the pack out to her but she shakes her head. “I tried one once,” she says. “Didn't much care for it.”

“You're smarter than I am then,” I say. “I thought you were supposed to be sleeping.”

“Can't really sleep,” she replies with a shrug. “Too much going on.”

I nod. “Yeah, it's understandable.”

We sit in a companionable silence for a few minutes, watching the cars on the freeway go zipping by. Dawn is beginning to break and the sky overhead is starting to lighten.

“What are we going to do?” she asks.

“Well, before we do anything, I need to wrap up my business here.”

She looks over at me. “You have business here?”

“You didn't think I came to Fort Collins because it's a booming tourist mecca, did you?”

“No, I suppose not.”

She laughs and it's a high-pitched, sweet sound. Her smile really transforms her face. Makes it even more beautiful than it already is. Her long dark hair frames a smooth face so fair, it looks like it was created out of alabaster. Her eyes are darker than midnight and she has plump, full lips. She's got an incredible hourglass figure and round, full breasts. She's not the usual sort of woman I find myself attracted to, but she's gorgeous all the same.

Of course, that's not really why I'm attracted to her. To be perfectly honest, I don't know why I'm attracted to her. I actually don't even know with any certainty that I'm attracted to her at all. Ever since I first saw her sitting in that diner with that scared, lost look on her face, I felt inexorably drawn to her for reasons I still haven't figured out.

All I know is that I felt compelled to step in and help her. Still feel that way despite the fact that the cowboys are out here hunting us. I can't – and won't – leave her out here on her own. Won't let her suffer at Raymond's hands anymore than she already has.

For reasons, I can't even pretend to understand, I feel protective of Calee. Like she's my responsibility and needs me to look out for her. It's all strange and I don't get any of it. But it's how I feel all the same. And honestly, it makes me feel good.

She makes me feel a lot of things, honestly. And most of those things I don't understand. But until I'm in a spot where I can sit down and analyze it all, I can't be bothered to think about them. I need to compartmentalize. Keep it all locked away.

And maybe – just maybe – once we're out of harm's way and are safe, I can sit down with those feelings for a while and see if I can figure out what they are and what they mean. All I know with any certainty is that Calee makes me feel more alive than I've felt in a long time. As crazy as it sounds, there's an electricity running through my body that I haven't had in forever. Maybe it's just the high of being in danger again, I don't know. But the feeling is there. It's real and I can't deny it. And that's what I'm thankful to her for. She doesn't really know it, but she's given me a purpose again. A mission. And that mission feels like it's brought me back to life.

I think back to the conversation I had with Lara – and her belief that there's a missing piece inside of me. I'm not saying Calee is that missing piece. But she's certainly starting to fill something inside of me. Something I didn't really believe was missing in the first place. Apparently though, I was wrong.

“I'm out here because I came to see an old friend,” I say. “He's dying. Doesn't have much time left.”

Her face falls and she looks absolutely mortified. “Oh, God,” she says, her voice soft. “I'm so sorry, Eric. This is the last thing you needed.”

I shrug and give her a rueful smile. “Hey, you managed to make Fort Collins a little more exciting for me.”

Her dark eyes are wide and I see a blend of sympathy and guilt in them.

“What did I tell you about beating yourself up?”

“But what about your friend?” she asks. “If not for me, you would get to spend –”

“I was planning on leaving today anyway,” I say. “Steve isn't really conscious and coherent that much anymore, so my time with him is limited anyway. I just came to pay my respects and say my goodbyes, really.”

She sighs and looks down at the ground, but she doesn't argue anymore. I can tell that she's still kicking herself though. And I know that no matter what I say, she'll keep doing it – she's got a bad guilt complex.

“Okay,” she finally says. “After that, do you have a plan? Maybe you can loan me enough money to put me on a bus somewhere? And once I'm settled, I can try to pay you back?”

I look at her and roll my eyes dramatically. “No, that's not going to happen.”

“Then what are we going to do?”

“What's going to happen is that once I say goodbye to my friend, we're going to pack up and get the hell out of Fort Collins,” I say. “We're going to put Raymond and his goons behind us.”

She cocks her head and looks at me, her face filled with curiosity. “And where are we going?”

“I'm taking you back to California with me,” I say. “I'm taking you home.”

“California?” she asks, her voice soft. “Eric, I can't ask you to take me to your home.”

“You're not asking,” I say. “I'm telling you that this is what's going to happen. At least there, I'll be able to keep you safe.”

She sighs and looks at the ground again. “I honestly don't know if anywhere is safe,” she says. “You've already put yourself in enough danger because of me –”

I hold up my hand to cut her off again. “This isn't a debate,” I say. “You have nowhere to go. I can't leave you here because you're not safe. And I'm not leaving you knowing you're not safe. The only place I can take you where I know you'll be safe is back to San Diego with me.”

Calee eyes glimmer with tears and she gives me a small smile. “Thank you, Eric. For everything.”

I reach out and give her hand a reassuring squeeze. “You're welcome.”