Page 22 of A SEAL's Protection
“They’re a small operation They run a copper mine on the Kentucky side of the mountains.”
A small company wouldn’t have the resources to sabotage research. Something doesn’t add up. “Dig further. Find out everything you can about them.”
I hear Hudson making notes on the other end of the line. “Anything else?”
“Yeah.” I glance around at our surroundings. “Get in touch with Calvin. He’s the sheriff in Wild. He doesn’t have jurisdiction this far out, but he may have seen something.”
“How much should I tell him?”
I’ve cultivated my network while I’ve been in Hope. Calvin is a veteran turned sheriff on the other side of the mountain from Hope. I’ve made a point of getting to know him in the few months I’ve lived here. But he’s not an old teammate.
“No details. Just tell him to keep an eye out for anything unusual.”
I finish the call, eager to get back on the trail. We’re exposed out here, whereas in the forest we can disappear.
I need to get Allegra through this hike safe and sound. I’ll help her get the final samples and try to convince her to give up at the next stop.
I shoulder my pack, ignoring the old ache, and join Allegra outside the store. She’s got her pack on and a determined expression on her face.
“Let’s get back to it,” she says cheerily.
She’s already forgotten the setback, but I haven’t.
Who the hell has the reach to intercept mail at a small backwater town like this? If they can intercept supplies, what else are they capable of? We’re not just dealing with a lone weirdo; this is someone with influence and reach and resources.
10
MARCUS
We fall into a steady rhythm on the trail. Allegra walks ahead, and I stay behind, scanning the tree line and the path. Alert for any trace of the people following us.
I plot out a new route that cuts into the trees and steers clear of the main pathways, only coming out where Allegra has to take her samples.
All pretense of keeping ten feet behind her has disappeared. She stops often, pulling out her notebook or camcorder to mumble notes into it, her soft voice rising and falling as she gets excited about something she’s found.
At her next waypoint, she sets her pack down and pulls out her camcorder. While she does the recording and takes the sample, I pull out my binoculars and scan the area. But my gaze drifts back to Allegra. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, and there’s a smudge of dirt on her cheek. She doesn’t seem to notice or mind.
Her face furrows in concentration as she slips the sample into a compartment in her sample bag. A bead of sweat trickles down her forehead. She’s so focused on her samples; she’s not looking after herself.
I pull out my canteen and offer it to her. She looks up at me, surprised, as if only remembering I’m here.
“You need to drink.”
It comes out harsher than I intended. She takes the canteen and mutters her thanks.
I haven’t seen her eat since our last stop, so I hand her one of my precious few protein bars. She scarfs it down, stuffs the wrapper in her pocket, shoulders her pack, and on we go.
The shadows are getting long when we stop for the night. We’ve come inland from the river, and it’s the first time we’ve camped without it on one side. It makes our position vulnerable, but it’s the best we can do.
Allegra managed to procure a couple of cans of beans from the general store, along with some fresh vegetables. She hums as she gets the campfire going. It’s nice to hear her voice. She chops the vegetables and adds them to the pot while I set the perimeter.
I choose a spot for the shelter with a boulder on one side and a thicket on the other. I set up the tarpaulin and drag fallen branches over it to give us more shelter and camouflage.
By the time the sun sets, the tent is ready, and Allegra has a pot bubbling over the camp stove. I drag a log from the undergrowth and perch on it. I pull out a food pouch, but Allegra shakes her head.
“Save that,” she says. “Tonight, we’re eating gourmet.”
I peer into the pot and find beans mixed with mushrooms and carrots, the only vegetables available at the store.
