Page 89

It was a good sign, but it was also dangerous. Jason was basically forced incommunicado, swearing off contact and spending all of his time at the house. Kyle, Dakota, and Ryan went about their business as if nothing much had changed. It all had to appear normal. The whole thing needed to be believable, or Goddard might not buy it.

Luckily for us, greed motivates. The moment the Colonel took the bait we were speeding north, toward New York — just Ryan, Dakota and I.

We passed the city and its glowing bridges, the main roads dropping away quickly as we continued onward and upward. Four lanes turned to two, and then one. Traffic lights disappeared. Forests sprouted up on either side of us, towering pines and great oaks and maples reaching high overhead.

More than a dozen hours later Ryan rolled the car to a stop. We were in the smallest of towns, on the ass-end of the Catskill mountains. A few miles away from Colonel Goddard’s property.

“We walk from here,” said Dakota. “But not until it’s dark.”

The wait was agonizing, mostly because the car was so small. But we were laying low. Trying to leave the smallest possible footprint over the next few hours.

It was nearly eight O’clock when the message came through.

“Let’s go.”

As it turned out, the walk was even worse than waiting in the car. Rather than use the roads, and potentially be seen, we trekked directly through the woods. It was slow going, avoiding branches and stepping over fallen trees and trying not to break our necks in the thick, decades-old layers of rotting leaves. I wasn’t sure how far we needed to go, either. Or even where we were going. Or what we would do when we finally got there.

“I guess I didn’t know what I was getting myself into,” I quipped, after about an hour. “Did I?”

“Shh!” Dakota hissed. “No talking.”

We continued on, through the darkness and the cold. Luckily the moon was three-quarters full. Even this deep in the woods enough light filtered in to see by, especially once our eyes adjusted.

After what seemed like forever, Dakota stopped and held up a clenched fist. I’d been living with four Army Rangers long enough to know what it meant, so I halted.

“This is it,” Ryan whispered quietly. “The line marker.”

All of a sudden he was holding a small map. Dakota held a pen-light to it, and together they traced an imaginary line across the smooth surface.

“Sixty yards that way,” Dakota said. “No closer.”

We moved again, this time at half speed. This time taking extra care not to disturb anything, or make any noise, or—

“There.”

We stopped… and suddenly I could see it. A beautiful, contemporary-looking house sprang up from the clearing ahead, virtually buried in the middle of the woods.

Dakota made another motion with his hand, and we all got down.

You probably shouldn’t be here…

The voice of doubt crept in, for the first time the whole trip. I did my best to shove it away.

It was selfish to come. You want to protect them, but you could end up putting them in greater danger.

“Sammara…”

I turned, and Ryan handed me something small and heavy. He put his lips to my ear.

“Thermal binoculars,” he whispered. “Night vision.”

I peered through the lenses, and silently he showed me how to adjust the focus. I had no idea what I was looking for, but I was hoping I’d know when I saw it.

Five minutes went by. Ten. Twenty.

I was starting to get really cold.

Dimly, my mind began to wander. I wondered how Kyle was doing. What Briggs was up to. Whether or not Sarge missed me, and if they were feeding him. I thought about Cindy, busy up to her eyeballs in the Merrick job. Hell, I even thought about Dawn…