She can’t see me.
But she stared in his direction for a long time. His heart beat faster and small dots of sweat formed on his temples. She finally moved to the stairs and jogged down. He listened closely, but her feet didn’t make a sound. She unlocked her Tahoe and the cab light stayed off as she opened the door.
Smart.
She started the vehicle and pulled out of the parking lot. He turned his ignition and kept his headlights off as he followed, unconcerned about being seen by other vehicles. The local area rolled up its sidewalks at eight.
He immediately realized she wasn’t headed toward Eagle’s Nest. Or Bend. Forty minutes later he was eyeing the level of his gas tank and wondering if he needed to turn around. She’d led him toward the Cascades, following the foothills for a while, and then taking a dizzying course of turns. Her speed hadn’t changed the whole time, and he suspected she didn’t see him.
Where the fuck is she going?
He took a sharp right turn, expecting to see her taillights up ahead. They weren’t there.
“Shit!” He sped up, looking for a road she could have turned down. She’d led him to an unfamiliar and thickly forested area of the foothills that was crisscrossed with logging roads. Of course there were no signs anywhere.
It would be hell to find his way out.
He gambled and took another right turn. No taillights. With a curse he pulled over to the side of the road and stared into the dark.
Now what?
Did she do that on purpose? Did she spot me?
Pissed, he flipped on his headlights and pulled a U-turn. Tonight he wasn’t going to discover why she’d returned to Eagle’s Nest after fifteen years.
There was always tomorrow night.
SEVEN
The next morning Mercy and Eddie sat in a small but new-smelling meeting room at the Bend FBI office. Across the table sat Supervisory Senior Resident Agent Jeff Garrison and Intelligence Analyst Darby Cowan. The office had a total of five agents along with the intelligence analyst, a staff operations specialist, and an administrative assistant.
No wonder they’d reached out to Portland for support.
Clearly the Bend office had a casual dress code. Jeff was in jeans and Darby wore pants made of some high-tech weather-and tear-resistant material that Mercy had seen in outdoor stores. Darby didn’t look like a data cruncher; she looked as if she’d rather be climbing one of the Three Sisters mountains. A loose braid held back her long hair, and she moved with the athleticism of someone who ran marathons every weekend. Mercy guessed she was around forty.
Jeff Garrison appeared to be about Mercy’s age and seemed quite mellow for an SSRA. Shouldering the responsibility of the satellite office hadn’t given him the strained look Mercy recognized in many supervisors. In fact, he’d made her instantly relax the first time he shook her hand and smiled. Mercy was envious of the gift. He and Eddie had immediately discovered a shared passion for sushi and launched into a detailed conversation after Eddie asked for a restaurant recommendation. Mercy tuned them out, watching Darby deftly pass out papers.
“Since you’re from Portland, I’ve taken the liberty of giving a brief description of some of the groups of residents you’ll come across on this side of the Cascades. I hesitate to call them factions, because I feel that has a negative connotation and that label doesn’t apply to everyone,” the tall analyst said. “Then we’ll move on to how the victims’ associations might have made them targets.”
Mercy hadn’t informed them that she was from Eagle’s Nest and didn’t need an education, but she wondered if Jeff knew her background. Regardless, she wanted to hear Darby’s description of the groups.
“All three victims are well-known preppers,” Darby stated. “There’s a lot of different types of preppers out there, but basically these people believe in being ready for a natural disaster or a man-caused disaster that creates either a temporary or permanent change in their lives.
“You’ve seen the shows on TV. Some of these people are slightly nutty, but a lot of them are good, hard-working folks who plan ahead. They focus on food supply, protection, personal health, and finding an ideal location to live. Generally we don’t have any problems with this group. They keep to themselves, usually pay their taxes, and don’t call attention to their way of life. They like to keep it quiet. They don’t want others to know their homes are fully supplied, because they might be overrun when aliens destroy the major cities.”
Eddie snorted.
“They’re well stocked with weapons, but generally nonviolent,” Darby added.