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“An hour later, I got an interesting phone call at the motel from a man looking for you and a male and female companion. Said he was an FBI agent, and they had a warrant for your arrest. Suggested you guys could be traveling under assumed names.”
“That wasn’t an FBI agent,” Max said dryly.
“I figured. Shawn said none of those men had any law enforcement gear on. I called a buddy of mine who runs the Briarwood Motel and asked him if he got a call from the FBI. He received the same call about ten minutes before I did. Looks like they were going down a list. Made me feel better knowing they hadn’t singled me out.”
Max scrubbed his chin nervously. “It makes me feel better too. Did they give you a number to call in case you saw us?”
“Yeah.” He gave Max the number. He didn’t have to look it up. He knew exactly whose number it was. Enzo Fontana.
“Is that it? Did your son get home okay?”
“That’s not all. Before they left, they lit some rags soaked with gasoline and tossed them in some of the rooms. That place went up in flames and was mostly gone when the fire trucks arrived. Shawn walked a half mile through the woods to his car and got out of there. He didn’t want to be charged with arson.”
“I’m sorry Shawn got stuck like that. It never occurred to me that they would burn the place down,” Max said with regret. “I just wanted to see if my suspicions were correct. Tell Shawn not to put that money in the bank. He doesn’t want to bring any unnecessary attention to himself. The only thing he did was put a phone in an abandoned building. No one will ever know. When I get home, I’ll send him another $5000, but it may be a week or two.”
“That’s not necessary. I’m just glad you got out of here, okay,” Gavin said with sincerity.
“Yes, it is. I always pay my debts. Thanks a lot. I won’t forget what you and your son did for me.”
As he was about to hang up, Gavin said, “I almost forgot something. When Shawn was on his way home, he passed a diner. Both of those vehicles were parked outside. They haven’t left town.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Morgan took a county road through the mountains of West Virginia, thinking it would be the least likely route anyone would expect them to take. It turned out to be a bad decision. The narrow road hugged cliff edges, making it downright scary. Max sat in the passenger seat, white-knuckling the dashboard. She inwardly laughed at his offer to drive. Bash sat quietly on the sofa with his eyes squeezed shut, practically hyperventilating.
She regretted embellishing her driving experience with the 18-wheeler. Relieving Pops for an hour while he took a cat nap was more accurate to the truth. And that was only because he had fallen asleep, almost running them off the road. He was on a critical deadline, and she had been his only alternative. Unlike the curvy mountain roads, the interstate had been straight and flat, and it was the middle of the night, so it was highly unlikely the highway patrol would catch a 17-year-old driving a big rig.
“Don’t you think we need to find a place to stop for the night?” Bash asked with a nervous tremor in his voice. “Not sure navigating these roads in the dark is the best idea. It’s already dusk.”
“I agree,” Morgan chimed in.
Five miles down the road, they found a place to stay called Ryder Campsites. It had water, electrical hookups, and a bathhouse with restrooms and showers. With the campground only a few days from closing for the season, there were only a few campers on site. Max specifically asked for a secluded spot. Their scenic campsite was nestled in a valley right next to a rushing creek.
“Hey, look!” Morgan called excitedly as she stepped out of the RV. “We have our own firepit with a grill! Anybody up for barbeque steaks? Those ribeyes and potatoes I picked up will taste great cooked over an open fire.”
Max and Bash were in full agreement.
The rain held off just long enough to get the steaks off the grill. They shared an excellent meal, and it turned out to be a perfect opportunity for them to get to know each other in a relaxed atmosphere. Her heart warmed listening to Max and Bash share stories about his mother. The tension between them seemed to dissipate. It was a good time to find the bathhouse for a long, hot shower to wash away the road.
The light rain had stopped, but the cloud cover remained, blocking the moonlight. There was a crisp bite to the air, and remnants of the burnt hickory aroma still lingered. It was uncommonly quiet, with no noises from fellow campers. Once she got to the end of their campsite, she realized there was only a dimly lit deserted gravel road lined with dense trees between their site and the bathhouse. The reminder of every scary camp movie that she had ever seen quickened her pace.
She sighed with relief when she reached the log cabin-style facilities. Men on the right and women on the left. The motion lights flicked on the instant she opened the door, revealing a large room with toilet stalls, sinks, individual showers with cloth curtains, and wooden benches. Undressing hurriedly, she pulled her pjs out of her backpack and laid them neatly on the bench. The rubber-grid lining covering the cement on the bottom of the shower was a welcome sight. She wouldn’t have to stand on the cold concrete in puddles of dirty water.
As the warm water with a heavy sulfur smell hit her shivering skin, Morgan thought back to her conversations with Bash. They had developed an easy and comfortable rapport. Ever since Max came into the picture, she noticed Bash withdrawing from her. If he was frustrated with her, she understood why. They had both barreled into Bash’s neatly organized world and tossed it up in the air. Now, her problems only compounded his own. Though Bash insisted she stay, she wasn’t sure that was what was best for his safety or his ability to adjust to having his father in his life.
As she was drying off with a cheap, thin towel, she heard a car engine.
“Turkey feathers,” she muttered. Hastily dressing, she grabbed her backpack and crept to the door, flipping off the light. It could be another camper, but she doubted it. On the way in, they passed a restroom much closer to the only other RV that was parked on this side of the campground. Cautiously listening at the door, she heard two car doors slam.
“You had better make this quick,” a man with a gruff voice barked. “They could be gone by the time you get showered and changed.”
“No one’s going anywhere. It’s after eleven, and the owner said everyone’s in for the night. Besides, they probably aren’t even here. You heard the man the same as me. Three retired couples and one family with toddlers. They’re closing for the winter. That RV Fontana bought could be halfway across the country by now. No damn way they’d be wasting time in these mountains. The sooner we’re out of here, the better. We’re going through the motions to satisfy Enzo that we’ve looked everywhere,” grumbled a younger male. The voices were getting closer. “One of the other teams has a better chance of catching Fontana on the interstate.”
“Don’t let Enzo hear you say that.”
The door to the men’s restroom opened and closed as the men carried on their conversation. Morgan knew she needed to warn Bash and Max, but she couldn’t help the need to see if she could learn anything useful. Creeping silently out the door, she stopped outside and listened to the muffled voices.
“Yeah. Yeah. Now let me get cleaned up.”
