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When he glanced at her, he realized they were at the edge of the tree line. He had been lost in his thoughts, running on autopilot without being conscious of where he was going.
“We can’t go barreling blindly into the woods. Asa could be anywhere. Two shots, and we’re dead. We need a plan.”
“What we need is backup. There is no plan where I’m one damn bit of help in a shootout. Besides, my ego can’t tolerate you saving my ass again,” he said, pulling his cell from his pocket. He tried Max’s cell, but it went to voicemail. Then he sent a brief text explaining where they were and what they were about to do. “I’m texting Max. Hopefully, he’ll see it and bring the cavalry.”
“You wait here, and I’ll go in,” she said.
He took her hand and frowned. “No way, Morgan. We either go together, or I’ll hog-tie you right here until we get help. And for the record, I think we should wait.”
She shook her head.
He reached in his pocket and pulled out the .9 mm she had given him at her Pops cabin. “Well, I guess I’m as ready as I can be.”
“Do you feel comfortable shooting that? I mean, I’m hoping it’s not necessary, but just in case?”
“Max gave me a few pointers. I checked it this morning. It’s got a full clip. Aim and shoot. What’s to know?”
Morgan shook her head. “If you say so. Just don’t you dare get behind me!”
Bash couldn’t help the feelings of trepidation the further they wandered into the wooded area. It was mostly red spruce trees with no bushes or underbrush for cover. They were fully exposed. Walking side-by-side, they stopped every 15 feet to listen.
“This isn’t safe. We need to get out of here,” Bash pleaded.
“Maybe there is something on the other side of this little forest area. I mean, we are in the middle of town. It must end somewhere.”
“Let’s go back and get Agent Perez. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“Give me a minute.” He watched her turn around in a circle, trying to find some evidence to indicate which direction Asa may have taken Agent Scott. “There!” she pointed toward the ground on the right. “It looks like someone slipped.”
Bash followed her a few feet further to find a muddy shoe print. He took her hand and turned her toward him. “Good job. Now, we have a direction, but this is as far as we go. I’m not risking your safety.”
They did a stare down for a full minute before she relented. As they reached the edge of the park, they heard their names being called. Bash dropped Morgan’s hand to wave at the three men across the road heading toward them: Agent Perez, Max, and Sam. The sound of sirens caught Bash’s attention and filled him with hope. Help is on the way. In his excitement, he turned to hug Morgan. His heart fell into his stomach. She was gone.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Morgan sprinted through the trees, trying to put as much distance between herself and Bash as possible. This was her mess, and she was going to fix it. The only option she could think of was to trade herself for Agent Scott. Then, she would have to hope she could find a way to escape. If Asa’s plan was to take her back to California, it gave her a lot of trip time to catch him unaware.
It only took a few minutes to reach the footprint she had shown Bash. What she did not show him was the white plastic zip tie she spotted on the ground a few feet away. That was the only breadcrumb she had to follow, but at least she had a direction. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw no sign of Bash. He would not risk hollering her name for fear of revealing her location. As she ventured further into the woods, she noticed the ground gradually descending. She admonished herself for not pulling the area up on Google Earth to get an idea of the topography.
Eventually, she came to a small clearing in the middle of the trees with a 20-foot-long rock formation that stood at least 12’ to 15’ tall in places. Its entire surface was rough and jagged from erosion, so climbing up to get a better view was out of the question. She closed her eyes and listened. No footsteps, voices, or sounds of any kind.
I’m too late. He’s gone. I might as well go back, she told herself, slowly retracing her steps.
“Didn’t take you long to give up. I’d expect more from a girl raised by Clark “War Dog” Kline,” came a grating male voice.
Morgan spun around and was met by the smirking face of an older, male, red-headed, blue-eyed version of herself, pointing a gun at her chest. She held in the gasp, threatening to escape her throat. Her heart went into overdrive. Despite the dryness in her mouth, she forced herself to speak calmly.
“Where is Agent Scott?” she asked.
“Oh, don’t you worry about that FBI woman. She’s taking a little nap, so we can have a chat,” he answered with an obnoxious singsong in his voice. He did a little chop motion with his free hand to indicate that he had knocked her unconscious.
“Where is she?”
“Not far. And not dead … yet. She’s my bargaining chip to get that ledger back.” His eyes narrowed with a dark menace. “No thanks to your meddling. But don’t you worry, I’m going to get my pound of flesh from you. You can bet your skinny little ass.” He looked her up and down. “Funny. I never believed Patrice when she told me you were mine. She was just one of the ole ladies we kept around when we need a to get our rocks off. Said she caught feelings for me. I wasn’t the first and sure as hell wasn’t the last man she latched on to. Looks like she wasn’t lyin’. You couldn’t be nobody’s but mine.” His snicker turned her stomach. “But don’t get your hopes up, girlie. I’ve had twenty-five years to ponder what my dad and you did to me. He may be gone. May he rest in hell, but you aren’t. And I’ll get my revenge one way or the other.”
She held her head high. “How can I possibly be responsible for something that happened before I was born?”
His lips flattened, and his jaw tensed. “Don’t matter to me. You lived your life. I got robbed of mine. And you are gonna pay.”
