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“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a deal,” he said, sticking out his hand to shake. Then, he gave Bash the address to text the rental company. “I’ll call my grandson. He just graduated from the University of Tennessee this past spring. Nice kid. Still lookin’ for a job. Y’all mind ridin’ in a truck?”
“Whatever will get us there,” Morgan said.
Twenty minutes later, Jonah, a blond-headed, gangly but clean-cut young man, showed up in a black Ford F-250. Bash handed Ray a $1000 in cash.
Ray did a quick introduction to Jonah, and they were on their way. It took less than fifteen minutes to get to County Road 35, and that’s when Bash asked Jonah to take Highway 71.
Jonah shook his head. “No, Sir. We need to go southeast on 35 to I-59 south. That will take us straight into Birmingham. Highway 71 goes to I-59 north. We’ll end up in Chattanooga.”
Morgan looked at Bash and smiled. Their trip to Birmingham was a misdirection and in the opposite direction of their true destination.
“How would you like to make $500 for yourself?” Bash asked.
Jonah side-eyed him with suspicion.
“You turn on 71 instead of 35 and take us to the airport in Chattanooga. I’ll give you the $500 for Ray and $500 for yourself, and no one will ever know. There aren’t but twenty miles difference in the trips. What do you think, Jonah?”
“You’ll still fill the tank?” he asked.
“We will,” Morgan said.
“I guess this is my lucky day,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.
Switching locations at the last minute had been the plan all along. Ray struck Bash as an opportunist. A man who could be bought by their stalkers. Chattanooga was also on the way to the Appalachian Mountains. His bet was on Jonah not telling his grandpa about the change of plans.
As soon as Jonah dropped them off at the departure entrance, they hurried to the car rentals. After picking up a Jeep Grand Cherokee, they stopped for a quick lunch and were on the road to the cabin.
The drive through the mountains was breathtaking, but the narrow two-lane roads made the trip slow going. It was dusk by the time they arrived at Murphy, North Carolina. Morgan wasn’t comfortable locating the cabin without the familiar visual landmarks, so they decided to stay overnight and do some grocery shopping the next morning. They found a small no-name motel, checked in separately under assumed names, and paid cash. After grabbing a couple of burgers and fries, they went to their separate rooms to get some sleep.
Before Bash’s head hit the pillow, his burner phone rang. Gray.
“Hey, man. I thought you were going to call me.”
“It’s been a shit day, and excuse me if I decided to get some rest.” He couldn’t figure out why he was so annoyed. Gray had done nothing to warrant his ire. It was probably because he hadn’t slept the previous night, and there was the issue of someone trying to kill him. Gray had always been his sounding board.
“I talked to Bryan. We found out what happened. Doesn’t look like anyone gave up your location on purpose. Bryan’s assistant, Bette, was the one who contacted a guy she knew in the art department to make the reservations. She was very clear with her instructions that he was being paid to keep his mouth shut. Even had him sign an NDA. After he e-signed the contract for the house, he forwarded it to an attorney friend of Alex’s in Indianapolis, who arranged for the car you picked up, along with the contract in the glove compartment. By the way, the attorney owns the car, so I guess we’ll have to have someone return it to him. Anyway, Bette didn’t know the jerk in the art department had a crush on her. Thought he could leverage his little favor to his advantage. He left a note on her desk after she had left for the day that said, ‘All done for the mystery man. It’s 12 Redbud Drive. Now, you owe me dinner and drinks.’ The day he left the note was the night of the break-in in Bryan’s office. It was right on the top of the desk for Fontana’s men to see. The note was still there, so they probably took a picture of it.”
“The asshole was paid to keep his mouth shut!”
“The guy didn’t think it applied to Bette since she was the one who paid him. Sorry, Bash. We thought we were smart enough to do this ourselves, but we weren’t. I swear I won’t make that mistake again. In the morning, I have a meeting with Samuel Barrett of SMB Protection Agency. Sam is former FBI. Mostly works with high-profile clients. If you call me tomorrow afternoon, we should have a plan.”
“Sounds good,” Bash said, trying to project optimism. He hated that Gray was blaming himself.
“Are you sure you can trust this girl? Is there any way Fontana could have gotten to her? Set a trap?” Gray sounded genuinely concerned, but Bash couldn’t see a connection between them. Why would she have saved him?
“I thought you did a background check?”
“Things can be hidden. You know this,” Gray said wearily.
“Trusting my gut on this. If there’s anything odd that I’ve learned, it’s about her Pops. That’s the grandfather who died. Morgan told me he literally kidnapped her when she was a baby. Apparently, her parents were shit. Mother overdosed. Dad is in prison for god knows what. Her grandfather didn’t want her to go into foster care and knew that with his record, he would never gain custody. She doesn’t even know her real name but has always gone by Morgan Skylar.”
“Well, hell. That’s not suspicious at all,” Gray roared.
“Yeah. She had her doubts about her grandfather, too. Even had a DNA test done without his knowledge. He had enough markers to be her grandfather, but who knows if his story was true. I’d suggest a background check on him, but I have no idea what his name is. Maybe I’ll find something at the cabin. If I do, I’ll text you,” he said, feeling guilty after all she had done for him, but it never hurt to be thorough.
“It concerns me not knowing where you are. Can you at least give me some idea of your location?”
“These were your fuckin’ rules!” he snapped.
