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Together, they climbed up to the pavement. At the top, Sam pulled out his cell phone and looked at the screen. “Too much to hope we’d have a signal up here?”
“Imagine if someone had called us when we were hiding.”
“Good point.”
Remi linked her arm through his, and they began walking. “How long do you think it’ll take to get back?”
“Not sure,” he said. “But at least it’s downhill.”
“That’s what I like about you, Fargo. Always seeing the bright side.” She sighed. “We were so close . . . A long way to come for nothing.”
“But the company’s good.”
She smiled, then leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked.
After about an hour, the rain had lightened to a sprinkle. Too late, because they were soaked through, their wet clothing chafing against the skin. Even though they’d covered about three or four miles, they hadn’t descended all that far down the steep, winding road.
When they finally reached the fork that merged into the main road, Sam stopped, worried that Avery’s men might be parked farther up, lying in wait.
“Wait here,” he said while he took a quick look. Not seeing anything, he waved to her and she joined him. “Let’s stay close to the side in case they’re parked there, watching.”
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; After a few minutes, Sam checked his phone again. Still no signal. Frustrated, he shoved it in his pocket, then stopped when he heard a faint but growing sound coming from somewhere up the hill. “Listen,” he said. The sound of tires rolling across wet pavement. “Someone’s got their car in neutral.”
There were two reasons he could think of that a car might be heading downhill in neutral. Someone was having car troubles or they didn’t want the vehicle’s engine to be heard.
The latter worried him.
He grabbed Remi’s hand and pulled her into the bushes.
Twenty-eight
Sam hoped they hadn’t been seen. As much as he’d been glad when the rain stopped, he found himself hoping for a sudden deluge, the better to limit visibility.
But the only water was that dripping off the trees and foliage. Within seconds, the car was upon them. He looked through the leaves just as a 1970s era, mud-covered yellow Jeep CJ5 came rumbling down the hill, still in neutral. Sam wasn’t about to move until he knew who was at the wheel—he wouldn’t put it past Avery’s men to hijack another car. As the Jeep neared them, the engine sputtered to life and the vehicle jerked forward.
Not one of Avery’s men.
Sam scrambled to his feet, slipping in the mud as he raced into the road waving his hands. “Help!” he shouted. “Over here!”
Remi raced to his side, waving and shouting herself, but the Jeep reached the bend in the road, brake lights coming on as it entered the turn. Too late, Sam thought, wondering if the driver had even heard or seen them. But then it stopped. And backed up the hill.
The driver, a tall, white-haired man with a goatee, his green eyes alight with curiosity, rolled down the window. “Need a ride?”
“We do,” Sam said.
Remi added, “If you don’t mind the mud?”
The man laughed. “Hardly a classic I’m driving here. A little dirt won’t hurt it any. But you might want to hurry. Rain’s coming back in.”
They walked around to the other side of the car, Remi opting to sit in the back. Sam opened the door for her, then climbed into the front seat. “Thanks. We really appreciate this.”
“No worries. My engine stalled when I had to slam on the brakes. Darn boa in the middle of the road. Good thing I was headed downhill.” He looked over at Sam, then back to the street. “Don’t see a lot of tourists way out here.”
“We didn’t start off that way. Forced by a couple of gunmen in Kingston.”
“Robbed you, did they? What part of Kingston were you in?”