Page 52 of Defending You
“What’s your plan?” Bartlett demanded.
“Still making our way there. I think the client has a mole, told Cici’s father to tell him in person, which he said he’d do.”
“That would explain how they keep finding you.”
“Gavin Wright sent a car for us in Concord, which we didn’t wait for. Call and tell him we’re safe, and tell Forbes the same, but nothing else.”
“Done. You got a clean phone?”
“Yup. A few of them.”
“Good. Be safe out there.” Bartlett ended the call, and Asher handed the cell back to the police chief. “Thank you.”
“I can get you wheels,” Thomas said, “but probably not for a few hours. I’d have one of my guys drive you somewhere, but we’re short-staffed as it is. Can’t spare anyone tonight.”
“A car would be great. We’ve been on the road?—”
“And on the run,” Cici added. She’d been unusually quiet since they’d stopped.
“That too.” Asher glanced in her direction. She looked okay, a little pale, maybe. “What we really need is a place to rest,” he said. “A cabin, somewhere remote. Somewhere we can regroup. Rustic is fine, as long as there’s Wi-Fi. Any suggestions?”
“I can get you that. And a hot meal.”
“You read my mind.”
“More like heard your stomach growling.” The man smiled, setting Asher at ease. “Stretch, move around. I’m gonna make another call.” Thomas walked away, and Asher turned to Cici.
“You okay?”
“A little groggy. Sorry if I…” Her cheeks pinked, and she dipped her chin. “I managed to get some sleep.”
“I noticed. You were drooling.”
“Was not.” She grinned. “Anyway, sorry if I got too comfortable.”
She’d curled up beside him like a kitten, and he hadn’t minded one bit, though it seemed safer not to say that. “Glad you got some rest.”
“Did you?”
“If the chief comes through with a place, I’ll sleep tonight.”
They walked deeper into the woods along the narrow path, chatting about nothing important—mostly food, proving she was as hungry as he was—then returned to the truck to find Thomas seated on the tailgate. The three of them waited in strangely comfortable silence until a second man arrived driving a Camry—tall, fifties, with the same cop-like bearing.
“This is a friend of mine,” Chief Thomas said, “Garrison.”
The man sized them up, then regarded the chief. “You into human smuggling now?”
“Something like that.” But he was smiling. “I’ll explain later.”
“Gotcha.” Garrison motioned to the sedan. “Climb in.”
Asher shook the chief’s hand. “Thanks. We appreciate this.”
Cici thanked him, too, while Asher stowed his duffel bag in the trunk. He opened the passenger door for her.
After she settled, her purse in her lap, Asher sat in the back beside a brown paper bag that filled the car with delectable scents. Something fried, and maybe a hamburger?
He hoped the food was for them.
