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They stopped at Wilderness Gateway and hiked a mile out and back. At the Warm Springs Trailhead, they crossed the river on the long walking bridge but didn’t continue to Jerry Johnson hot springs. Last time he’d been there, he’d seen far too much while passing the clothing-optional pool.
Then they passed Locsha Lodge, crossed into Montana, gazed longingly at Lolo Hot Springs, and stopped at the Historic Lolo Creek trailhead at Howard Creek. They hiked part of the Lewis and Clark and Nez Perce National Historic Trail, made dinner, and then returned to the road. At dusk, just before reaching the town of Lolo, he stopped at a small gas station. Trevor pulled on a baseball cap, kept his face down, paid cash, and filled the tank. Sam drove the remainder of the road to Lolo, then turned south, toward Marcus.
Home. The word resonated in Trevor’s heart, but the woman next to him brought him that joy rather than the Queen Anne mansion he was restoring. Or had been restoring. The fire had surely damaged it, but he didn’t want to know how bad it was—yet. Staying alive took precedence.
Before entering Florence, Trevor directed Sam to turn off for the safe house. They wound up twisty dirt roads and ended at a small log cabin. A recent model gray SUV was parked in front. Sam jammed on the brakes and threw the Jeep in reverse.
A woman appeared on the porch, shining a light on her face. “Wait, Sam. That’s my boss, Aviss.” She hadn’t told him she’d be joining them, but it was reasonable. She waved at him, then returned inside.
Sam exhaled noisily. “Oh, good. Because I wasn’t looking forward to racing back down these roads in the dark.”
“Me either.” He got out and swung into a series of active stretches before grabbing his bag. Too much driving, not enough exercise. Their run had helped, but he needed more activity. Sam followed him to the front porch and opened the door. Trevor shook Aviss’s hand. “Sam Kerr, meet my boss, Special Agent Bryn Aviss.”
Sam held out her hand and shook firmly. “Nice to meet you and put a face to the name.”
“Nice to meet you as well.” Aviss held the door open for them. “Sorry it’s under these conditions.”
Sam’s backpack lurched with her shrug. “Not your fault. I’d hoped Koslov’s death would solve all our problems, but greed is a contagious disease.”
Aviss closed and locked the door. “That’s an excellent way to put it. I have great hopes that, between what Trevor’s found and you talking to Erin Moore, we might find what we need to shut them down. In Marcus, anyway.”
Trevor dropped his bag on the floor and pulled out his laptop, unplugging the too-strong scented oil warmer and using that outlet. He left the air freshener on the floor, hoping the smell would dissipate soon. “You have secure Wi-Fi set up?” The cabin was a typical rental setup; the main level contained a seating area, dining table, and a kitchen. A door at the side of the kitchen was probably a bedroom or bath. The loft above likely held a big bed and maybe a second bathroom.
“Of course.” Aviss nodded. “Log in, and I’ll set it up on your laptop. Sam’s too, if you want.”
“Yes.” Sam dug in her backpack. “I desperately need to get some work done.” She looked at Aviss. “And I have a court date I absolutely cannot miss next week. A woman’s life depends on it, along with her kid’s health. The ex-husband is abusive.”
Aviss nodded. “Understood. You and your client will wear bullet-resistant vests, and you’ll be under obvious FBI protection. We’ve already cleared our presence with the court. The Sheriff will be notified, but not until that morning.” Aviss’s mouth flattened for a moment. “Although, it wouldn’t surprise me if the word has already spread. Small town.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah. Especially the legal system. It’s pretty incestuous.”
“This place only has two bedrooms. Mills, I’ve got you in the loft and Ms. Kerr and I will share the room with two beds behind the kitchen.” Aviss’s eyebrows rose. “Unless you’re officially a couple?”
“No.” Sam’s tone was uncompromising.
Trevor’s heart sank, but he shrugged, keeping his expression blank. “As she says.”
Aviss leveled a skeptical look at him, then turned back to Sam. “Don’t get comfortable. Make sure you can grab everything and go, even in the middle of the night. I’m positive there are more moles in the Bureau, but I can’t prove anything yet. If they’re as high up as I think they might be, they’ll find us. We’ll stay two nights, then move. Tomorrow, we’ll meet your parents in a public location. I also want to meet with Erin Moore. I’ve got a couple of spots picked out and want your opinions before I choose. We’ve set a time, but won’t tell them the location until tomorrow. But for tonight, do your work and relax as much as possible. The next few days are likely to be a whirlwind, if not a tornado.”
“Understood.” Sam copied not only Aviss’s words, but her tone. Plugging her laptop in, she brought up the system settings. “Please log me on.” She turned a half-smile on Aviss. “No offense, but I’m not leaving you with my laptop. I do not give you or any government agency permission to inspect, copy, modify, or do anything at all with my personal or business files. If giving you access is a condition of using your connection, I’ll decline.”
“I understand attorney-client privilege, and since your life is on the line, I’m fairly certain you’re not hiding anything relevant to the situation, so I concur.” Aviss huffed. “I have no interest in your business or personal life, except as it impacts Mills and the greater legal issues of the Bratva. Your data is safe from me and anyone under my control.” She scowled. “I cannot protect you from someone misusing FBI systems for their own gain if they penetrate my team’s safeguards.”
Trevor didn’t whistle, but it took an effort to hold back. Making that concession and confession must have hurt.
“Understood.” Sam smiled slightly. “I appreciate the honesty. There are no guarantees when millions are at stake.”
“Especially with drugs and human trafficking involved.” Aviss shook her head. “Addicts make everything more unpredictable.”
While they talked, Trevor brought up the connection screen on his laptop. “I’ll be back.” He grabbed his bag and trotted upstairs to the loft. As predicted, there was a king-size bed, draped with a Pendleton blanket-style comforter, and a small bathroom. He put toiletries and sweats on the bed, used the bathroom, then carried his bag back downstairs. There was a small window with a rope emergency ladder in a box below it, but if they had to run, it’d be faster to return downstairs. If he could.
Sam was gone, but her laptop was on the table, firmly closed. Aviss scrolled through a spreadsheet on his. “You’ve found some interesting coincidences and connections, but there’s not enough here for a search warrant.”
Trevor grabbed a chair back and pulled his right foot up into a quad stretch. “I know. I’m sure there’s a second set of books because the operation is too big to keep in someone’s head. Unless Sharlene Murphy has perfect recall?” She certainly had a reputation of knowing everything about everyone, but she also remembered what she wanted to believe. She didn’t talk about her daughter often, but on the rare occasion she did, she was absolutely certain that Erin’s romance with Ryan was a passing fancy born of pity for the wounded soldier. Which was utterly ridiculous to anyone who’d seen Erin and Ryan together.
“One of the questions I need to ask Erin Moore.” Aviss turned to him. “Do you think Moore will act against Murphy, if she’s involved in illegal actions?”
“Absolutely.” Sam’s voice was uncompromising. “She’s told me that many times. She loves her mom, but she doesn’t condone her actions or respect her. At all. Erin believes that the only way to save her mother is to get her to turn state’s evidence, but she thinks the chances of that are small. Murphy is too caught up in the trappings of wealth and too self-deceptive to understand how she’s driven Erin and everyone else away. She still believes they’re best friends.”
