The blood washed away to reveal the pretty face he’d seen just an hour earlier in the bar. There were some new additions to her features, like bruising with a swollen nose and eye sockets. In one eye, the white area had turned alarmingly red. Back on stage at the Dolphin Club, she’d had a sparkle in her eyes, not blood clots. But even here, with her bruises and blood visible as she rested and recovered on a large boulder, the essence of Carly was still apparent. It was a little dampened and distant but still there.

Working in the car’s headlights, Tansy cleaned a deep gash on her temple and then placed a bandage across it. He wiped up some new blood that trickled from her nostril, Carly’s head bobbing around loosely as he worked. Her neck had gone limp, her shoulders hunched in. She had finally shut down.

In this new robotized state, the crying had finally ended. She was breathing deeper, more evenly. And she had stopped asking about “that guy.”

Tansy was glad to be done fielding questions about him, skirting around the details of how he’d shot two hollow-point rounds into his head, how his limp body fell backward into a steaming hot spring. She didn’t need to know those details. Especially the hot spring, which was probably the plan for Carly. Kill her and then hide the body in the scalding-hot water, let the evidence burn off. Let the skin cook and slough off bones.

“Tansy?” she said finally, as if coming out of a dream. “How did you find me?”

“Google.” He packed up his medical kit and shut the lid.

It didn’t take anything special to find her. Certainly no hacking or any other tricks were involved in trolling social media. It began when he got Jackson’s network back up and running at The Silo. A search of Carly’s name pointed Tansy to a semi-pro punk band called The Dotties, who just so happened to have their own Facebook and Twitter accounts, and who just so happened to be tweeting and hashtagging their latest news and locations.

It wasn’t much of a surprise, the West Wendover location and its absolutely convenient date. It placed both Carly and their mysterious hacker in one of the town’s more run-down motels. He was already half expecting that. Once he learned of their tour, even before seeing that specific location, he was almost certain who he’d been dealing with. The honey pot he’d stepped into was a dead giveaway in itself. There weren’t many hackers out there who could turn the hunter into the prey with such panache. There was also an old-school flair to the whole thing—the entrapment—which was utterly Carly.

And then there was the blackout, which also had Carly—or Cscape—written all over it. Just like their social media stream had West Wendover written all over it, in addition to the following night’s show at the Dolphin Club in Wells, Nevada. He’d swapped his Mustang for a Honda Civic that belonged to someone at The Silo—a car that would attract considerably less attention—and left.

The only real surprise was how good she’d looked on stage.

There had been photos, over the years. He’d had a general idea of what she looked like, posing for a business profile mug shot, or accepting some award in front of a fountain in Fort Collins. He’d seen that Carly.

And that Carly had always been a stranger to him, even when they were still communicating.

But the version that had stepped on stage was something entirely different. Something he’d never expected. The music itself was certainly startling. Likewise with the rest of the rock-star trappings—the short leather skirt and black knee-high boots. But the difference wasn’t in the costumes or the bass guitar strapped sexily around her body. It went well beyond that. Well beyond looks. It was if he hadn’t been looking at Carly but Cscape, watching the embodiment of her web ego take the stage at a trucker bar in Wells, Nevada.

After the initial shock, it was uncannily familiar, like he’d always known the person. And this person, Cscape, could play a mean bass. She performed with the same mastery and confidence as she had when setting up the honey pot that had trapped him.

And there she was, no longer thousands of miles away and behind a computer screen, and no longer up on stage, but right in front of his face. He could see the fine details, like how the wind blew tiny wisps of hair across her forehead. He could feel her breath on his wrists has he wiped her face clean of blood. There was the smell of her perfume. The way her chest filled when taking a deep breath.

He’d been helping her to calm her breathing, helping her feel grounded and alive. Safe. Only after that could he move on to explanations.

“I’m here as part of my investigation to identify a hacker.” He smiled at her, forgetting for a moment that she wouldn’t be able to see it. “Have you taken on any new work recently?”

It took her a moment to respond, perhaps having to think extra on the simple, everyday details of her life. Or maybe she was thinking extra hard on a lie. There was also the slight possibility that she had nothing to do with the hacking, that it was all one big coincidence. It wouldn’t be the first time that Tansy was wrong about something, or someone.

“I heard you were retired,” he said, holding Carly’s arm and helping her off the boulder.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, “I was.”

“So, can you tell me about your new gig?” He tried saying it nonchalantly, bluffing, like he had known all along that her new gig was to hack into secret servers and then honey-pot people like himself. Probably not as exciting as web programming, of course.

She took a few steps before answering. Still quiet, her voice sounded almost ashamed. “I was in a pinch to make some money, and then Greg called, and you know. . . .”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” He understood, or he was trying his best to—no matter how gray or illegal or problematic for DARC Ops her work had become. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. I’d be taking odd jobs, too, if I wasn’t working for DARC now.”

She cocked her head at the mention of one of the nation’s premier cybersecurity firms. And then she blinked hard a few times. “I’m not embarrassed that I took the job. I’m embarrassed that you found me out so quickly.”

Tansy laughed, relieved to have found his mystery hacker. “Well, that’s only because you’re so good. You made it obvious. It was vintage Cscape stuff.”

“Yeah,” she said dully. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I didn’t say it for that reason per se.” He guided Carly to the passenger door of his car. “But I hope it does. I think you have a right to feel better.”

“Why?”

“Well, look at you.” He opened the door and helped her in, fighting the urge to run his eyes over her body, to take in every curve, even though it could have been done with impunity. With her sight gone, she wouldn’t have known. “I mean . . . you know what I mean.” She had such wonderfully voluptuous hips. She had—

He forced himself to look away. He had this annoying predisposition for being a gentleman. It was goddamned hardwired in.

“I got careless,” she said, her hands reaching out as she hesitantly shuffled into her seat. “I’m usually strapped. But I forgot it on the one night I actually needed it.”

“So where’s the gun now?”

“Back in our tour van,” she said, sitting in the car with an oomph.

“So you had no idea that someone was . . . coming after you?”

“No.” She shuffled in her seat, staring straight ahead through the windshield despite not being able to see anything. “I don’t have any clue what it was about.”

Now that was definitely a lie. Perhaps the beating zapped her of the necessary energy for obfuscation. She certainly looked worn down to nothing. Tansy gave her a lingering glance before shutting her door and speaking through her open window. “So you think it was completely random?”

“I don’t know.” She leaned back in her seat and let out a deep sigh, then spoke again, more urgently this time. “Do you think we could get going?”

“Of course.” What the fuck was he doing, pressing her for information mere minutes after she’d almost died? For all he knew, she could be seriously injured, internal bleeding, her skull filling with blood. They were both possible after the beating she’d taken. He hurried to his side of the car and slipped in behind the wheel. “I already called the police. Do you want to wait here for them?” Carly outwardly flinched at his words. “No?”

“No,” she said, curling in her swollen bottom lip. “I can’t talk to the police.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Can we just go? I’ll explain later.”

“Are they looking for you or something?” It didn’t quite add up. She’d blatantly advertised her position online, but now she was evading law enforcement? “What happened?”

“Just go. Please.”

“Carly, I just shot someone. I can’t just take off.”

The growing wail of a police siren winding down the road grew closer. He looked back at Carly, who was now trying the door handle with the chaotic fumbling of a concussion victim.

A concussion. Was it a good-enough reason to flee the crime scene?

Of course it was. She was injured and needed help. It wouldn’t be “fleeing.” It would be “rescuing.”

Carly relaxed back into her seat as soon as the engine roared to life, her hands returning to her lap, her arms folding there.

“Are you cold?” Tansy asked as he made a U-turn in the narrow dirt path.

“No.”

He turned on the car’s heater anyway.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

“Are you feeling dizzy or anything? Tired? Confused?”

“Confused. Definitely confused.”

“I guess we’ll forget about going to the hospital. Since you’re being . . . pursued. Might as well put up a big glowing sign to advertise where you are.”

She said nothing.

“But if I could find you, why couldn’t the cops? You’re not exactly hiding out in a shack. You’re on tour.”

She remained quiet, her head bobbing gently as the car navigated a rocky, pothole-filled path.

“I’ll ask our medic to check you out,” said Tansy. “At the compound. And then from there I guess we’ll figure out your . . . legal situation.”

“You have a compound?”

“Yeah. It’s a few hours south of here.”

“What about . . . what about my band?”

“I think your tour’s canceled.” She didn’t respond, just let out a soft, defeated sigh. He frowned. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to Carly that she couldn’t return to her bandmates right then.

“It’s about something I did a few years ago,” she suddenly said, almost blurting it out. “A job I did. That’s why they’re looking for me.”

“The cops? How bad is it?”

“Bad enough that they sent an FBI agent to the bar tonight.”

“Is that who you thought I was?”

“Huh?”

“I followed you outside, when you went by the trucks in the parking lot. You took off running when you saw me.”

“Yeah,” was all she said before falling silent again. Maybe humor would work?

“Did I look like an agent or something? Sunglasses at night, all in black.”

The car crested a hill and tilted down and a trail of flashing red-and-blue lights on the road below them caught his attention. They were snaking up the hill, zigzagging up the switchbacks of the same road they were on. He stopped the car.

“What’s wrong?” asked Carly.

“Nothing. I just . . . got lost for a second. I’ll have to turn around.” Tansy reversed back up the road a little and pulled onto an even narrower trail. Not even a road anymore, but a trail. A horse path.

Carly held on to the armrest, bracing herself against the harsh rocking of the car but saying nothing. Given the situation, she was being a good sport about his sudden off-roading.

“So, uh,” he said, trying to distract her away from his escape attempt. “So you’ve got the Feds after you. And a fucking assassin? Are the two related?”

Carly visibly shrank against the side of the car.

Damn it. Cool down, Morse.

When she finally spoke, her voice was flat, like it was no big deal. “Yeah. I’ve made a lot of enemies, it seems.”

“Does this have anything to do with that political scandal I heard about? I came across some interesting news articles. You wouldn’t have been involved in some cover-up, right? Helping a crooked politician?”

She stayed silent.

“I’ll take that as a maybe.” Tansy stepped on the accelerator, picking up some speed to clear a patch of deep sand.

“It’s . . .” she trailed off. “It’s something like that, yeah. It was part of the reason why I quit hacking.”

He glanced over at her. She’d started chewing on the inside of her ravaged cheek. The sight of her bloodied face enraged him again and he fought to keep his voice level, calm. “Well, that’s understandable. I’ve done some jobs that have spooked me, too.”

“I think I hear them,” she said. “The sirens. Where are we going?” She sounded concerned now, more awake and alert. It was a blessing and curse.

“We’re hiding.” Tansy steered around a big patch of cacti, his gaze fixed at the end of the car’s headlights for any other last-minute obstacle. “Because apparently everyone and their uncle is looking for you. You’re just lucky I got to you first.”

“Second.”

“What?” he said, swerving past another rock.

“You got there second.” She shuddered and he had to hold himself back from wrapping her shaking hand in his. She didn’t need any of that, not now.

“Anyway,”—he slowed the car to a crawl—“I’m just looking for somewhere to park. We’ll wait until they pass by and then return to the main road.”

“Okay. It was kinda obvious that we weren’t on a road anymore.”

“It’s a road,” said Tansy, chuckling. “Maybe designed for horses, but it’s a road.” He parked the car behind a natural rock wall and cut the engine, feeling safer immediately as the headlights faded to black. They were alone in the darkness, almost as if they were the only ones out in the desert that night. They waited there for a few minutes, long enough for the sound of the sirens to grow and then diminish. It was also long enough for Tansy to tell Carly about DARC Ops and how he’d found himself there after befriending a guy named Jackson.

“I read an article about them,” Carly said. “I never imagined you’d work there. They seem so . . . I don’t know . . . straightlaced?”

“That’s a useful public perception. Outwardly, yes, we’re very much by the book. And we work with law enforcement quite often. But when it comes to the gray-hat stuff, well, we like to keep that under wraps.”

“Stuff like hiding out in the desert with a fugitive?”

“You’re a fugitive now?”

“Maybe.”

“Another reason why you’re lucky I found you, perhaps. Anyone else who didn’t know you would be more than happy to put you behind bars for aiding terrorists.”

“Excuse me? Terrorists?”

“Domestic terrorists.”

“That’s who hired me?”

“Who else would be so gung ho about compromising FBI cybersecurity?” He waited for her to speak, but she said nothing. “You can’t honestly tell me that you had no idea you were hacking into government servers.”

She brought her hand to her face, feeling her wounds again, taking a silent inventory of the damage. What kind of wounds did she have internally? Not just from tonight. Her brain, her heart?

“We’ve been monitoring their search for someone skilled enough to carry out their plans,” he said. “At the same time, I’ve been trying to get in touch with our old friends, see who was still doing what. You know, testing the waters. . . .” Tansy looked in the mirror, checking for any unwanted lights. Then he looked back at the woman he’d just rescued. In the moonlight, he could see hints of new blood forming at her nose. “You were last on my list. For a few reasons.”

She nodded.

“For one, I had assumed you never want to talk to me again.”

“That’s not true.”

“And second of all, which is kinda related to that, you’re retired. You’re, like you said, finished with all that crap.”

“It’s not crap.”

“Crap, yes.” said Tansy. “Me, your old life. You sort of treated it like it was.”

She was touching her eyelids, her hands shaking slightly as she tried moving them around. Was she still blinded?

“Which is fine. You never owed me anything.”

“Yes, I did,” she said. “Yes, I do.”

“We don’t even need to get into that right now. I’m sure you’re . . . exhausted, and maybe concussed.”

“I’m just . . . in shock, I guess. Getting . . . abducted like that. And then . . . you.”

He’d always wondered what it would be like to finally meet Cscape face to face. But this was definitely not it. Near the end of their friendship, he had been pricing out flights and hotel packages. He’d even practiced ways to bring it up naturally in conversation. Practiced in his head how to make it not sound like anything more than a friendly visit. It was a concept he first had to teach himself.

But then why had he wanted to meet her so badly?

He had gone to great lengths to find this or that hacking convention, this or that reason to finally be in the same physical space together. And when they would finally meet, maybe he would find a reason for what he was feeling. Maybe she would too. An immediate reaction that could push aside all the reasoning, all the logic. And he could stop forcing himself to believe their relationship was just friendly and platonic.

He was on the same slippery slope now.

Just how far was he willing to go to aid and abet someone the FBI was after? To harbor a fugitive that he himself had been assigned to track down?

He already knew the answer, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“Okay,” he said. “I think it’s safe to head back.” He started the car, put it in gear, and then began the tedious process of turning the car around, rotating it slowly through several jerky back and forths.

“I’d get out and help you with any blind spots,” Carly said. “But . . . I’m a walking blind spot.”

“I bet you’ll clear up by tomorrow. Mine took twenty-four hours.” Tansy put the car in drive for the last time, ready to finally depart from their hiding spot, but the car wouldn’t move. He pressed on the gas harder, but the engine only roared louder, the car standing still.

“What’s going on?” asked Carly. “Are we stuck?”

“Not for long.” He tried to rock the car backward and forward. He had a pretty good track record for escaping sand traps. “Trust me, it’s not my first time stuck in the sand.”

“But were you doing it in a Honda Civic?”

She had a point. But Tansy had to block out that reality and continue his process, backing up and moving forward in small increments, hoping to gain some momentum.

But the car only got deeper.

“Fuck it.” He climbed out of the car and hunched down, inspecting the front tires with a flashlight. To his relief, it looked manageable. He returned to the car and grabbed as many floor mats as he could, stuffing them in front of each tire. He was repeating the process with the rear wheels, cupping sand away from their path with his hands, when he heard her call out to him.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m right here.” It had been damn unnerving when he’d lost his sight, however temporary it was. The sensation had made him uncertain about just about everything. Every step had become a risk, a scary mystery one moment to the next. He needed to do better, stay in audio contact with her the entire time, to always provide feedback about what was surrounding her. A guide, if you liked. A lifeline.

“Huh?” she replied. “I’m not worried.”

Okay. Maybe she didn’t need a lifeline.

Her voice was suddenly louder as she stepped out of the car. “I asked if you need any help.”

Tansy was surprised at her tone. Her split lips were pinched closed and she sounded almost annoyed.

He’d be annoyed, too, if he was suddenly powerless. That day when he was blind, he had his friends to rely on, people he trusted. Carly might not have even trusted that he was actually Tansy.

“Okay, yeah,” he said, getting up off his knees and brushing the sand off them. “You can help. Can you drive a stick?”

“Sure.”

There was always something extremely sexy about a woman who could handle a standard transmission. But coming from Carly, it was no surprise. She was already a standout in the male-dominated field of hacking. The techie equivalent of a tomboy. Except the way she looked in a dress. . . .

He slammed the door on that line of thought. “Do you want me to show you where everything is?”

“No, I got it,” despite her missing sight, she stood tall as she walked back around to the front of the car, her fingers tapping across the hood as a guide.

Tansy watched her again, consumed with his unfettered voyeurism. Although he’d seen photos of her, her in-person beauty was striking. Even with all the blood and bruises. Even through the darkness of the desert, her body gliding through the moonlight like a dream. He forced himself to look away, continuing to dig the sand away from his rear tires. He was just about to picture her in his mind again when he was suddenly preoccupied with another concern. Were any of his old friends from other deserts out here tonight? The snakes and scorpions that could end their little getaway with a single glancing blow?

From inside the car, Carly had called his name in a hushed cry. “Tansy,” she called again, this time louder. “Did you hear that?”

“No.” With his tinnitus, he was lucky to have heard Carly whisper his name, let alone whatever noise she was asking about.

“What’s that sound?”

He stopped scooping sand and raised his head, holding his better ear out in the air. “I can’t really—”

“Shh!”

He tried listening to whatever sound she was worried about. But all he could hear was his constant ring.

“It sounds like chirping,” said Carly. “Like . . . little babies.”

“What kind of babies? Birds?”

“No,” she said, the concern growing in her voice. “Cats. Big cats.”

“Like a mountain lion?”

“Cubs, maybe.”

“Okay,” he said, far calmer than he felt. “We better get the fuck out of here.”

Carly said nothing as the car sagged with her weight. Tansy quickly crawled out from under the wheel well and got behind the car. The car’s engine had already started by the time his hands were on the rear bumper. He heard her ask if he was ready, and then the car lurched forward, kicking up sand all through the car’s undercarriage. He got low with bent knees, like they taught football linemen, and pushed through as the car slowly rolled out of the deepest section of sand and back onto the stony trail bed.

“Alright,” called Tansy, walking up to the driver’s side window. “Nice job. Do you want to take it from here and drive us out?”

Her laughter was the best thing he’d heard all day.