Page 52 of Avenging Angel

“Then why didn’t you look for her harder? Why did you give up?” Daisy asks.

Owen chuckles, but it’s devoid of his usual humor. “She didn’t want me, Daisy. What started off as fake for me turned into something real. For Gen, it was fake from beginning to end. There was no reason to keep searching for someone who made it clear she didn’t want me.”

I clear my throat. “Can I ask how Bennett knows all this and you didn’t?”

Owen purses his lips. “Because the CIA owned Genesis from the moment she gained U.S. citizenship at the age of fifteen. They paid for her education, and in turn, she had to freelance for them off the books. They also threatened to leak information that her parents had helped capture key Al-Qaeda members, which would be a death sentence for them. One that was eventually carried out.”

“What do you mean? The CIA killed Gen’s parents?” Daisy asks, appalled.

I look toward the cabin door, where two CIA agents are on the other side. Both operate in shades of gray, but Bennett’s shade is much darker than Vinny’s. Even mine isn’t the pristine white I’d hoped it would be. Then I think about the subterfuge, the decades of planning, and the lengths the CIA would go to get their way.

Turning toward Daisy, I answer her question. “They didn’t have to. All they had to do was whisper the word ‘traitor’ and let others do the dirty work for them.”

And with that, Owen’s hatred toward the CIA makes perfect sense. As I stand here, I can’t blame him one bit.

Chapter twenty-one

Daisy

Angel and I enter the cabin with Owen, finding Roger and Vinny standing over the table and looking at a topographical map. Faith is at the computer clicking the mouse continuously while Jaxon stands behind her. Scott is packing his rucksack while my brother double-checks his. Then there’s Bennett, who is leaning against the kitchenette counter, doing his best to stay out of our way.

“Where are you going?” I ask Scott and Owen.

Scott looks at Owen with disappointment. “I thought you told her?”

Owen scowls at Bennett while responding to Scott’s question. “We got a little sidetracked.”

“Tell me what?”

Faith hits the print button before turning toward me. “On our way back from the diner, Kenneth Johnson was spotted at the east entrance of the Dutton Creek Trail, not far from the lodge and Crater Lake Visitor Center.”

A frown appears on Angel’s face. “Dutton Creek Trail leads to the Pacific Coast Trail, which has 33 miles of backcountry terrain. During the summer, it’s a difficult enough trail for experienced backpackers because it requires three days of food since there’s no place to resupply. The rocky terrain, steeper slopes, and lack of resources make it inaccessible for anyone ill-prepared.”

“What’s on that trail that could be a good hiding place?” I ask.

Faith looks at her brother, then at Vinny. Together, they say, “The lost buildings.”

“The what?”

Handing me a sheet of paper with my flight details to Colorado Springs, Faith takes a moment to explain. “The lost buildings are a myth around these parts. During the gold rush, there were miners who went off looking to make a claim for themselves. It’s believed they built small cabins that have now become so overgrown they blend in with the landscape.”

Angel purses his lips. “As far as I know, none have ever been found. How many times have we hiked that trail looking for them?”

Faith chuckles. “More than I can count. Dad always called it ‘wilderness’ training when we’d go searching for them. Secretly, I think he wanted to be the one to discover the lost buildings.”

Vinny looks up from the map. “You wouldn’t be wrong, but it was also the perfect excuse your father used to spend time with you kids without the distractions of the world bombarding you.”

Scott grumbles. “With satellites, thermal technology, ground-penetrating radar, and other advancements, it would be difficult to keep something like that hidden.”

Bennett pushes off the counter and heads toward me. “It has to be a diversion tactic. Kenneth Johnson is purposely leading you in the wrong direction.” Suddenly, the paper in my hands disappears as Bennett looks it over. “Colorado Springs? That’s definitely going in the wrong direction.”

I snatch the itinerary back from his hands, not appreciating him taking it without asking. “I’m going to talk to Mason and Gemma Bloom.”

There’s a brief flash of recognition in Bennett’s gaze, but it disappears as fast as it came, forcing me to question whether I saw it at all. “And why would you want to talk to them?”

“Because their daughter, Emily, fits the description of the girls who go missing, and she died in a tragic hiking accident in the lower Rockies. Her fiancé was Brad Callahan, the man you claim to be Douglas Jenner.”

With his lips stretched into a fine line, Bennett says, “That doesn’t explain why you want to talk to Emily’s parents, though it does explain Brad’s motive. Your guy broke under the loss of someone he loved. I’ve seen it time and time again in my line of work; a normal person snapping under grief and loss.”