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Sam entered the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, then the cupboards. “No fresh food, which is good, but there’s plenty of canned stuff. Plus coffee.”
“Good. We can leave the MREs in the car.” He crossed the kitchen to the stairs at the far end. A half bath squeezed under the stairs. As he’d speculated, the loft contained a king-size bed with a dust cover over the mattress, with a cedar chest at the foot. A love seat sat next to the loft railing, and a small full bath was visible through an open door on the far side.
Sam dropped her backpack next to the bed. “I guess we’re sharing again. If you want to grab what we’ll need, I’ll make the bed.” She pulled the dust cover from the foot, gathering it carefully to contain the dust.
More temptation he didn’t need. But it was a big bed. No need for them to even touch, which saddened him. “I’ll take the right side, please. Did Andreas give you an address for the hangar?”
“Yes.” She pulled his notebook from her backpack and handed it to him. “It’s on that last page, along with the entry code.”
He opened it to the back. “Lost River Runway. Guess it’s right on the strip. Shouldn’t be too hard to find, then.” Dropping his backpack, he trotted down the stairs. “Be right back.” Outside, he breathed deep, replacing her scent with pine and rushing river water. Trapped in a car, sharing a bed; she destroyed his barriers quicker than he rebuilt them. Only the knowledge that Sam essentially hated him kept him from pulling her into his arms and kissing her.
He got in the car and drove back through the small community. Three-quarters of the houses seemed to have full-time residents, but others were dark, with no sign of occupancy. After night fall, he’d walk the streets, looking for places to hide. Security signs stood in almost every yard, but he was fairly certain some of them were fake. The pit bull chasing him along the fence on his left wasn’t though. They’d avoid him if at all possible.
He pulled onto the dirt road alongside the grass strip and checked the addresses, finding the Dahl hangar quickly. Parking in front of the aircraft door, he looked in the small window above the keypad to the side of the hangar door. The building appeared mostly empty. He checked the notebook and entered the code in the lock. With an ear-piercing shriek, the hangar door rolled away from him. Lights came up, proving the cavernous space was completely empty, other than a bin of cleaning supplies and a ladder.
He jumped back in the car, pulled into the hangar and turned to face the door, parking at the far end, where the vehicle couldn’t be seen from the tiny window. Then he got out and closed and locked the massive hangar door again, without the deafening sound, fortunately. He’d remember that any escape wouldn’t be quiet. Still better to leave the car hidden than sitting in front of a seldom used vacation home.
Rather than retracing the route he drove, he walked through the woods. He continued onward, finding alternative routes as he walked. Two houses had barking dogs, so he avoided them and eventually returned to the cabin. After entering the door code and stepping inside, he found Sam cleaning countertops.
“Find the hangar?” She held up a grimy sponge. “I think it’s been a while since anyone’s been here.”
“That’s good, unless Dahl has someone local watching the place. We’ll take a walk later, and I’ll show you where the car is.”
“He probably has a caretaker, but he’d say friends were using it and not to bother them. That’s typical for him.” She shrugged and went back to wiping.
“What can I do?” She’d removed the covers from the living room furniture; a log couch and two chairs done in dark leather.
She pointed at the kitchen table. “There’s a duster. Everything’s coated, so the least we can do is clean. I found a router in the china cabinet but didn’t turn it on.”
“Yeah, we’ll use the burner phone hotspot. Unless it’s satellite internet? With the FBI VPN, that might be safer.” It would take a lot of time and effort to track them down through satellite providers. If the Bratva had a general inkling of where they were, finding a cell connection would be easier.
“Not my area of expertise.” Water ran, and she rinsed the sponge.
“No problem.” Despite his desire to pull her away from the sink and hold her close, he crossed to the hutch and opened the doors on the bottom. A router with a power strip next to it. The password was written on the back, but there was no sign of the provider. He moved the blinds aside, peering outside. A large deck with a covered grill, but no satellite dish. Opening the sliding doors, he walked outside and turned to look at the roof. Bingo. A Starlink was mounted to the roof.
Returning inside, he plugged the router in and turned it on. Retrieving his laptop, he plugged it in, booted it, and entered the router password and pulled up his VPN. After connecting, email and message notifications popped. He’d help Sam, then check. “Bring your laptop down and we’ll get you connected. We’ll download messages, then turn everything off again.”
Sam tapped up the wood stairs, then back down, plopping her laptop next to his. “I can’t wait.” She opened it and logged in, then turned away to plug it in.
He connected her laptop. “There you go. Download your emails and the documents you need.” He sat and scanned his official inbox. Nothing that couldn’t wait. He pulled up his unofficial emails, one after the other, but nothing stood out. Aviss had no news, then.
“Hey, Trevor, got an interesting lead for you.” Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Erin says her mom left for her annual leaf-peeping vacation in Delaware yesterday. She goes every year, and unlike all her other vacations, she never invites Erin to come. Erin hadn’t considered it before, but now she wonders if Sharlene meets someone there. Maybe someone connected to Fox-slash-Koslov? Could that be the break you need?”
Trevor pulled up the Bureau’s spreadsheet with Koslov’s travels over the last five years. Excitement washed away his exhaustion. “Yes. Ask Erin if she can tell us exactly where her mom’s been over the last two or three years. If she doesn’t have an exact location, even a general idea will help.” Delaware had some of the most advantageous corporate tax breaks in the nation and didn’t require residency. If they could find a financial connection between Marcus City Bank and Koslov, he could get the evidence he needed to bring investigators into the bank and shut everything down. If Sharlene hadn’t moved everything out after Koslov’s death. Maybe that’s what she’d be doing during her trip.
“Erin says she goes to the same place every year. Rehoboth Beach, Delaware.”
Trevor’s heart rate sped. Finally, a break. “That’s an easy drive to DC, Philly, and New York City. She could easily meet shadow bankers and mobsters. I’ve got to tell Aviss.” He reconnected the laptop. “It’s chancy, but I’ve got to.” He called Aviss’s official profile through the FBI’s networking software, then searched Koslov’s travels. Bingo. Koslov had taken annual trips to the same beach in Delaware.
“Go ahead, cheddar.” It was Aviss’s voice and the correct challenge word.
He had to tell her without using names or key search phrases. “Rennet, Mom’s on her annual leaf-peep to Dover. Her frenemy was there last year and the year before.”
Aviss sucked in a breath. “I’m on it.” While she kept her tone even, Trevor heard the excitement in her voice. “A penny’s worth of line is possible if you reach out.”
He disconnected and considered her words. Penny and line—she’d asked Geo Pappas of Copperline Security to help them. He wouldn’t count on the assist, or share that with Sam, but the company had locations across the country and many of them would be perfect hiding spots.
Sam looked up from her laptop. “Do we need to move now?”
