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CHAPTER22
BEN
Every car looked suspicious. His senses were heightened. Paisley had survived the news conference, told the world what she’d endured, and was now on the way to a new location to regroup. The key was making sure they weren’t being followed. The problem was, he couldn’t be sure if they were in the clear or not. There were a few cars he felt like he couldn’t shake. But it could be someone from the media or a complete coincidence.
“King, do you see that red sedan? Do you think that’s the car you saw the woman leave in? They’ve been behind us for the last ten minutes.”
“Take a sharp left up there,” King said, gesturing to a corner that looked more like an alley.
“Mick is expecting us to be on time. We’re not supposed to divert for any reason,” Paisley reminded them, her hand planted on Ben’s shoulder.
“Except for this. If we’re being followed, we can’t lead them straight to the safe house.” Ben cut the wheel quickly, sending the tires squealing.
They all fixed their eyes on the red car behind them and Paisley gasped as it followed their drastic turn.
“Damn,” King called anxiously. “You’ve got to shake them. You ever do any driving like this before?”
“I’ve avoided the police a couple of times,” Ben admitted as he cut the wheel to the right. “Tell me what I’m dealing with back there. Can you see who the driver is? Any passengers?”
“It’s hard to tell,” Paisley called, fully turned in her seat and trying to get a better look. “I can see a license plate though.”
King pulled a phone out of his pocket and tossed it over to her. “Call the plate in to Carmen. And see if she can tell us anything.”
Paisley dialed frantically and repeated the license plate over and over to remember it until Carmen picked up.
“What’s going on there?”
“We did the press conference and now we’re trying to get to the safe location Mick set up, but we’re being followed by a red car. The plate is SVE-9992. Can you tell us anything? Is it the media?”
Carmen called out to a few people on their end and then came back to Paisley breathlessly. “It’s registered to a Tammy Plavers. She’s from Carson City, Nevada. Thirty-eight years old. No criminal history. We’re checking her social media. We’ll need a little more time.”
King leaned over as Ben took another last-minute sharp turn. “Can you send a picture of her driver’s license? I spotted a woman at the press conference who was acting strange. I want to see if it’s her.”
A moment later the text chimed. King glanced at the phone for a moment before confirming. “That’s her. Same woman who heard Paisley speak then left the area abruptly. She’s got to be involved.”
“What do we do?” Ben asked, “I can pull over and confront her, but I think we need to get Paisley somewhere safe first. Mick was adamant this was our top priority.”
“Don’t stop,” Carmen ordered firmly. “Find a way to get clear of that car. Then meet up with Mick. He’ll know what to do.”
Before she could finish her sentence there was a violent crash against the back of the car. They were being rammed.
“It’s too late to shake them,” King barked, pointing to a parking lot to their right. “Pull in there. I’ll engage with her and you take off in the other direction. If I can blow one of the tires out that will give you time to get out of here.”
The car rammed them again as Ben followed King’s suggestion and pulled into the empty parking lot.
“No,” Paisley shouted. “You can’t. You have no idea what they have in that car or what they’re going to do. Think about Bailey. About Cinderhill. I can’t let you do this.”
“I can handle myself,” King said, giving Ben a serious look. “Get her out of here.”
Ben nodded, slammed on the brakes, and watched as King jumped from the car, his weapon drawn. There were pops of gunfire, more squealing tires, and Ben floored it back out to the street with reckless abandon.
He thought of Bailey. Of the people in Cinderhill waiting for King to come back to them. The knot in his gut tightened as he sped away in the direction of the safe house where Mick would be waiting. Shifting his eyes between the road and the rearview mirror, he was desperate to catch a glimpse of King. Something that would let him know he’d made it out okay. Instead the scene behind him disappeared and with it the threat of the car following and ramming them. Within a minute it was clear they were safe. There was a clunking noise over the back tire where the car had been struck twice but checking the gauges, it seemed like everything was intact enough to make it the last four miles to the safe house.
“Just hang on,” Ben said, trying to reassure Paisley. “We’re in the clear now. The safe house isn’t far; we’ll be all right once we get there.”
“King,” she cried out. “We shouldn’t have let him do that. They could have run him over. Or shot him if they’re armed. Turn around so we can go back for him. We have to.”
“I’m sorry, Paisley. We can’t. We have to secure you. We know who was at the press conference and whose car was following us. You did what you set out to do. You drew them out. Now we have something to go on. Getting to the safe house is all we can do now.”
