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Page 8

“There must be some kind of latent potential. They must have hoped for that in you.”

  “If what you’re saying is true, then you’re got more native ability than I do.”

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter who’s got what. Let’s stop arguing about it and work together.”

  He nodded. “We should try to figure out our next move. Jack and Claudia gave us a lot of background. Unfortunately, they didn’t tell us anything that was going to help us find Trevor. Not in practical terms.”

  “We could do research on those two guys—Dr. Sykes and Dr. Lasher,” she suggested.

  “Would that do any good? Lasher is dead and Sykes has gone underground.”

  She sighed. “What about contacting somebody at the Defense Department?”

  “Do you think they’d admit to a secret project to make super soldiers? Especially when their chief researcher went rogue,” he asked.

  “Probably not.”

  He sighed too. “There may not be anyone in the DOD who even knows about the project. We may have to ask the FBI for help, since they got involved in the case.”

  “I’d like to sleep on that,” she murmured. She’d come to Matt because the kidnappers had warned her not to go to the authorities. After talking to Jack and Claudia, she was almost sure that was just a ploy to keep her from any kind of effective search while they did their experiments on the “next generation” of children. But what if the kidnappers had meant what they said? What if she was putting Trevor’s life in danger now?

  As she remembered how Jack had run outside looking for someone sneaking up on the cabin, she felt a terrible restlessness that made her want to dash outside this cabin. Only she wouldn’t be looking for men sneaking up on her and Matt. She’d be searching wildly around the parking lot and then in the pine forest beyond. Searching for her son. Which was a pretty crazy idea.

  Matt had said he was messed up. Was she the one losing it now because she simply couldn’t deal with their lack of progress today? Or her own uncertainty about what to do?

  Trying to focus on something normal, she said, “We should get something to eat, then get some rest.”

  “Okay.”

  They drove into the center of town and stopped at a little deli, where they bought sandwiches and potato salad, which they took back to the room and ate at the table by the window. Neither one of them was very hungry, but she remembered what Matt had told her earlier. They needed to keep their strength up.

  It was dark soon after five, and Matt took her advice and lay down on one of the double beds. Although he didn’t look very relaxed, at least he was off his feet.

  But she couldn’t rid herself of her own fidgety restlessness. She kept feeling as though Trevor was calling her, and if she opened the door, she would see him in the parking lot of the motel.

  Again, she told herself that was ridiculous. He couldn’t be here. Somebody was holding him captive. And not outside a motel in Rapid City, South Dakota.

  But Matt had been held captive, and he’d gotten away. Maybe Trevor had done the same thing, and now he was searching for his mommy.

  Feeling like a sneak, she glanced back at Matt and saw that his eyes were closed. He needed to sleep, and she wasn’t going to wake him up to tell him she was going outside. Or give him a chance to veto the move.

  Quietly she pulled on her boots and coat before slipping outside. The South Dakota night was cold and crisp, and she stood for a moment on the porch of the cabin, not making a sound and staring out into the parking area. After her eyes were accustomed to the dark, she walked down the step to the blacktop that had been plowed free of snow.

  Although she saw no one, she called softly, “Trevor?”

  In answer, she thought she heard his voice, very faint and far away, and despite herself, she felt her heart leap.

  “Trevor? Honey, it’s Mommy. Are you here?”

  When nobody answered, she walked across the parking area and into the snow under the trees, searching the darkness, still calling her son’s name. “Tell me where you are, honey. I’ll find you.”

  She was fifty yards from the cabin when footsteps behind her made her stop in her tracks. They were much too heavy for a little boy’s.

  Feeling trapped, she whirled.

  It was Matt.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  She knew her face had gone hot and was glad he couldn’t see the flare of heat in the darkness. “I’m looking for Trevor.”

  “He’s not here.”

  She felt her insides contract. “If I go by logic, I know you’re right, but I keep feeling like I’ll step around a tree and there he’ll be. Or if I can just look in the right direction, I’ll see him standing there.”

  Matt came up behind her and put his arms around her, then turned her toward him, hugging her awkwardly in their bulky coats. “I know. I want him to be here, too. But I don’t think he’s just wandering around in the woods outside our motel.”

  Although she’d had a similar thought earlier, now she wanted to insist that she’d really and truly heard her son. But it didn’t make any sense.

  “It’s cold out here. Come on back inside.”

  She wanted to scream at him to leave her alone. If she just stayed outside, she would find Trevor. Or would she?

  “Am I going crazy?” she said in a small voice.

  “Of course not! You just want to find him—very badly.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, still not entirely convinced that he wasn’t nearby. But she knew she couldn’t stay out in the biting cold.

  Shoulders slumped, she let Matt lead her back to the cabin.

  “You should get some sleep.”

  “Okay,” she answered without enthusiasm. If she could get to sleep, it would be a miracle.

  She took a shower, washed her hair and dried it to give herself something to do. When she came back into the bedroom, Matt had turned off the lights. He was on the same bed where he’d been before, still dressed, except for his shoes, and he was lying on top of the covers.

  As before, his eyes were closed, but she was sure he was aware of her every movement as she walked across the room, trying to decide which bed to climb into. It was tempting to lie down with him. He’d put his arm around her, and she’d draw some comfort from that. But would either one of them be able to stop themselves from going farther? She didn’t want to find out.

  OUTSIDE in the darkness, Bobby Savage and Don Campbell cruised down the highway.

  “We’re getting closer,” Campbell said. He was the one holding the tracking device that had been shipped to a local freight office.

  “Yeah.”

  “I think this is the place.”

  “No, I think it’s the next motel down the road. Those cabins.” Ignoring Campbell, Savage pulled into the motel parking lot and checked the screen. “Yeah, this is it.”

  “Which room?”

  “This thing doesn’t give room numbers! You’ve got to figure it out.” He held up the GPS device. “We walk toward the cabins, and we’ll be able to tell which is the right one.”

  Savage backed up their rental car onto the access road that led to the main parking lot, then cut the engine. They got out into the frigid night air. Campbell came around to the driver’s side so they could both look at the screen.

  “This way,” Savage said as they started toward the row of cabins.

  “They picked a pretty crummy place.”

  “Maybe they’re running out of cash. Or they wanted a flop where the management wouldn’t ask a lot of questions.”

  “So how do we work it?”

  “We knock on the door. If they don’t open up, we kick it in, grab them and split before anybody else knows we’re here.”

  STILL HESITATING and still feeling that her son was somewhere nearby, Shelley walked to the window and lifted one of the slats. When a flash of movement caught her attention, she went very still, expecting to see Trevor. But it wasn’t him. Instead, two men were striding up the a
ccess road that led to their cabin, and in the illumination from one of the parking lot lights, she saw the glint of metal.

  They were carrying guns.

  Turning from the window, she charged across the room to Matt’s side and bent to tell him in a harsh whisper, “You have to get up.”

  Matt’s eyes remained closed. “I’m sorry. He’s not out there.”

  “It’s not him. Two men are coming toward the cabin. They both have guns.”

  He swore and reached for the boots he’d left beside the bed. Quickly he pulled them on.

  While she shrugged on her coat, he inched the blinds aside, looked out and swore again.

  “They’re closing in pretty fast.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Go out the bathroom window.”

  She looked at the travel bags that still sat on one of the chairs and the desk.

  “Leave them.”

  Her heart was pounding as he hurried her into the bathroom and closed the lid on the toilet, then reached to open the small window above the tank. It wouldn’t budge.

  Muttering under his breath, he put his shoulder into the effort and managed to push the sash up as far as it would go. It wasn’t a very large opening, but cold air rushed into the bathroom, obliterating the warmth from her shower.

  “Climb on the tank and get out,” he said as he closed and locked the bathroom door. “Then head for the woods where you were before.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  She climbed onto the toilet seat, then onto the tank and stuck one leg out the window. By ducking low, she was able to maneuver her shoulders out.

  When she looked down, she saw it was a six foot drop to the ground below. Just as she eased over the sill, she heard a knock on the door and froze.

  Matt put a hand on her leg and pushed. “Go! If you hear gunshots, don’t worry.”

  She gasped. “What do you mean don’t worry?”

  “I’m going to give them an order to make some noise. But you’ve got to get away first.”

  She didn’t want to leave him, but when she heard another loud rap at the door, she made herself drop down to the ground in back of the cabin, the snow cushioning her fall.

  Matt had told her to run into the woods, but she couldn’t do it until she knew he was out of the room.

  When he stuck his head out and saw she was still there, he made an angry sound. “Go on. I’ll catch up with you.”

  With no other option, she ran toward the pine trees, seeing her previous tracks in the snow. Crossing and recrossing them, she hoped that would confuse the men when they came looking for her and Matt.

  MATT DASHED BACK into the bedroom. He could hear the men on the other side of the door, and he’d gotten a quick look at them, which should help.

  Step away from the door, he silently ordered. You want to step away from the door and into the parking lot. Pull your guns and start shooting into the air.

  He repeated the suggestion, then waited with his breath frozen in his lungs, listening for some sound from outside the cabin.

  For centuries, nothing happened. Finally, when he heard shuffling feet, he figured they were going back to the parking lot, but that wasn’t the most important part of his directions. He needed a disturbance that would wake up the motel owners and bring the cops swooping in.

  Pull your guns, and start shooting, he ordered again. Shoot into the air, so nobody gets hurt.

  Again he waited for an eternity, and he started wondering if he should head for the bathroom window before he knew the outcome of his ploy. Then the sound of an automatic pistol split the air.

  “Good going.” He wasn’t sure whether he was talking to the would-be assailants or himself. Either way, it had worked.

  Outside, more shots broke the silence of the winter night, and he could hear the men cursing at each other.

  “What the hell are you doing?

  “What do you mean me? You started it.”

  “You did.”

  After a second’s hesitation, Matt gathered up the travel bags and dashed back across the room. Climbing onto the toilet tank, he tossed the bags out the window, then threw his leg over the sill. He was bigger than Shelley, and it was a little harder to get his shoulders through the opening, but he managed to wiggle out, then dropped to the ground. As he reached for the bags, he saw Shelley’s tracks leading along the back of the cabin to the woods where he’d found her earlier. Well, more than one set of tracks. She must have tried to confuse the pursuers by crossing and recrossing her path. The trouble was, she was confusing him, too.

  In the distance, he could hear police sirens wailing, and he knew that his trick had worked. At least in the short run.

  The cops were on their way.

  Peering around the side of the cabin, he saw the two men running down the driveway, which left him and Shelley to explain who had been shooting up a peaceful motel.

  “Shelley?” he called softly, but she didn’t answer.

  Hoping she was in the woods, he headed in that direction, but he couldn’t tell which way she had gone. Not with the confusion of trails she’d left.

  He wanted to shout out louder, but that might bring the men running back up the driveway to…

  To what?

  Kill them? Capture them? He didn’t even know who they were, what they wanted or who had sent them. But he had to assume that it had something to do with the conspiracy that had snagged him—and Trevor.

  Knowing they were running out of time, he hurried farther into the darkness under the trees, calling softly again.

  Movement to his right made him stiffen. When Shelley stepped out from behind a tree, he sighed in relief.

  “Come on.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know. But we have to get away before the cops arrive and start asking questions.”

  “Okay.”

  They hurried back to the parking area, but it was already too late. A patrol car had pulled up in front of their cabin, and two cops jumped out.

  Matt cursed under his breath.

  “How do they know which unit?”

  “I guess someone saw the bad guys knocking at the door.”

  The patrol officers also knocked. “Police. Open up.”

  When nobody answered, the cops started around the cabin, one going right and one going left.

  “They’ll see our tracks and try to follow the trail,” he said. “We’ll make our move when they’re both in back.”

  He took her arm, feeling her tension. He’d used his power to get the two men to start shooting. Could he use it on the law? Once again, he knew he had to try.

  Stay in back of the cabin, he silently ordered. Stay back there for a few minutes, looking around. Stay in back of the cabin. Try to figure out what’s going on with that mass of footprints.

  “Are you using your powers?” Shelley whispered.

  “How do you know?”

  “By your expression. You look like you’re trying to push a steel spike through a stone wall.”

  That was about how it felt. “Yeah.”

  He waited a few beats, then said, “Now.”

  They both rushed out of the woods, and he unlocked both car doors. “Get into the driver’s seat,” he told Shelley.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Give the car a push, so we don’t have to start the engine and alert them.”

  She climbed behind the wheel, and he threw the travel bags in the back, then hesitated again.

  How much time did they have?

  Taking a chance, he ran to the patrol car, opened the door and sprang the hood release. Then he lifted the hood and pulled out a spark plug, which he put in his pocket. After lowering the hood he dashed back to the rental car and started to push, expecting every moment that the law officers would come rushing back into the parking area and discovering what he was doing.

  Would they yell, “Stop. Police,” then st
art shooting? He hoped he didn’t end up with a bullet in his back.

  At least he had gravity on his side. The cabin was at the top of a hill, and he got the car rolling, then had to dash after it to reach the passenger door and jump inside. But he made it as the car picked up speed.

  “Thank God. Can I start the engine?” Shelley asked.

  “Yes.”

  She turned the key and nothing happened.

  “Start the car!”

  “I’m trying. Maybe it’s cold.”

  He was debating whether to try and change seats with her when he heard a shout behind him.

  “Stop. Police.”

  He wanted to curse. Instead he kept his voice even. “Just relax. Turn the key again, and give it some gas.”

  She did, and the engine finally turned over.

  Twisting around, he watched the cops leap into their cruiser. But the ploy with the spark plug had worked, and the vehicle stayed where it was.

  “Get the hell out of here,” he told Shelley. “And pray that there’s not another patrol car in the area.”

  She winced and turned right when they reached the access road to the highway.

  When they saw a police cruiser racing toward them with lights flashing and siren blasting, she made a choking sound. “What should I do?”

  “Keep going. They don’t know who we are. I hope,” he added under his breath.

  The cruiser rushed by, and they continued up the highway as though they’d just been out getting groceries or something.

  “Get off at the next exit,” he said. “Then stop after you’ve made the turn, and I’ll drive.”

  She did as he asked, and they switched places. He drove at a normal speed, then took a side road into a residential area, where he made several more turns, looking to see if they were being followed.

  Shelley’s features were rigid. “The authorities will think we did it. I mean, shooting up the parking lot.”

  “True, but they don’t know who they’re looking for. I registered under a fake name and paid cash. Our main problem is the bad guys.”

  “I don’t like breaking the law.”

  He swiveled toward her. “You want to spend a bunch of time explaining what’s going on?”

  She swallowed. “No.”

 

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