Page 38 of Deadly Force

The church building stands silent behind us, its simple cross stark against the morning sky, a quiet sentinel watching over grief, or prayer, or the slow, dawning clarity of God's hand in our chaos.

The moment Caleb swallows his last bite, the calm shatters. He tosses his wrapper into the bag with a decisive crumple and reaches for the door, ushering me inside. Caleb's eyes snap to the rearview mirror, jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.

"We'll risk the trail now. Mateo can cover the entrance."

Mateo is already sliding into the back seat,unwrapping a fresh strip of gum with steady fingers, as if nothing in the world can surprise him. "Loop north?" he asks, his tone even.

Caleb nods, his eyes already on the road ahead. "We circle wide."

He looks at me for half a second, something unreadable in his eyes, then shifts into drive. We ease out of the quiet lot, the engine's low hum the only sound, the silence between us now tight and familiar, laced with unspoken tension.

Beside me, Mateo goes rigid. "Red Tacoma. Three cars back. Saw it outside the station too."

"You’re sure?" I ask, pulse hammering.

"Been shadowing us since we left." His voice is flat, unshaken, but the words slam into me.

Caleb's eyes snap to the rearview mirror. His jaw hardens to stone. "Nice catch. We've got a tail."

I reach for my phone, snapping a photo over my shoulder. "Just in case we lose him.”

Caleb doesn't look at me. His foot finds the accelerator as he grinds the words out. “Nice thinking. Now keep your head down,” he says.

Caleb

Praying hard, I keep my eyes glued to the road ahead, trying to think. Hard to doso with Brooke behind me, clutching the ceiling handle like she’s bracing for impact.

The phone rings, sharp, jarring, impossible to ignore. I jab the answer button on the steering wheel. Rule one at Hightower: Always pick up, no matter what.

It’s Delilah. “Not a good time, Dee,” I grit out, swerving left to avoid a slow-moving sedan.

Mateo leans forward, his voice low and tight. “He’s closing the gap.”

In my ear, Delilah squeals. “Are you being shot at?”

“Evasive driving.” My voice is clipped. I tap the brakes hard, then accelerate through the light. “What do you need?”

“Ooooh, still très exciting. Tell Brooke to call her mom. She’s getting worried.”

I pass the message over my shoulder. Brooke’s wide eyes find mine in the rearview mirror. She nods, knuckles still white on the handhold.

I whisper a prayer beneath my breath.Lord, keep us one step ahead. Shield her. Guide me.

My hand tightens on the wheel. I ease the Pathfinder onto Anklam, sun flashing off the windshield as we climb toward the trail access road. Morning light is sharp, everything visible, every movement exposed.

“We can’t lose him in city traffic,” I say. “We take him somewhere open. Somewhere we control.”

Mateo nods. “You thinking trailhead?”

“Headed there anyway. Utility road off the loop. One way in. Natural choke point.”

Flicking on the indicator for show, I turn off onto the gravel access path. It’s early enough that the trail lot’s still?—

Brooke strains against her seatbelt to get closer. “We’re still going to the trail?”

“Best place to flush him out.” It’s also convenient. Never make it harder for yourself if you don’t have to.

I coast to a stop near a service pullout, just enough dust to make it look like we jerked off the road suddenly. The tires crunch to a halt on loose gravel. Heat ripples off the hood.