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Authors: Andrew Cunningham

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers

Wisdom Spring (12 page)

BOOK: Wisdom Spring
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We hung up with him telling us to be careful.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“I think he now believes that someone is after us. Whether he thinks it’s Hillstrom or not really doesn’t matter. He’ll investigate the leads. What?”

I was looking at her and I must have had a strange expression on my face. “Nothing. It’s just … well, this isn’t the same person who was hyperventilating a few hours ago. Something has changed.”

“What’s changed is that I’m now aware of who I have on my side. Between you, Mill, and The Voice, which seems to be getting stronger in me, everything is being done to keep me alive. I’m still scared out of my mind and it’s a constant struggle to not fall apart. But I’m also tired of running. What’s changed? As scared as I am, I want my life back, and I’m ready to go after them!”

 

Chapter 12

 

I called Joe Gray first thing the next morning. He was waiting for my call, and was in Logan, less than an hour north of us. Since we were heading north anyway, we decided to meet in Logan, and he gave us directions to a fairly remote parking lot on the outskirts of Utah State University.

We exited the hotel in the usual way and stopped at a Panera Bread for bagels and coffee. Jess waited in the car while I picked up the food.

“One day, it will be nice to be able to go into a restaurant again,” she said when I returned.

“You’ll have a life again. I promise.” A promise I had no idea if I could keep.

We drove most of the way in relative silence. Jess was deep in thought and I felt it better not to disturb her.

About ten minutes outside of Logan, she asked, “Have you ever ridden a horse?”

The question caught me by surprise. “A horse?”

She laughed. “Yeah, you know, long face, four legs, and a tail. Cowboys ride them.”

I gave her a dirty look. “Once or twice, I suppose. Why?”

“My parents loved riding and always took me. I have fond memories of the squeak of the saddle, the bouncing up and down, the sore butt afterward, and the smell. I love the smell of horses.”

“So what brought that question on?”

“I don’t know. I was just sitting here and suddenly I thought I could smell horses. Then I started reminiscing.”

“A message, maybe?”

“Maybe. Yeah, I think it was. What do you suppose it means?”

“God, I hope it doesn’t mean we’re supposed to switch to horseback. I said I did it once or twice. I didn’t say I liked it.”

Logan was located at the base of the Wasatch mountain range. The town itself wasn’t anything special, but the hills just outside of town were beautiful. Joe’s directions were good, and I found the parking lot with no trouble.

We pulled up next to his non-descript rental car. The spring semester had finished and most of the students were gone, so the small secluded lot had no other cars. I got out and immediately looked around for security cameras.

“Don’t worry, I already checked. That’s why I chose this spot.” He was walking around the front of his car toward me. He put his hand out. “Joe Gray.”

We shook. I was momentarily disappointed. I guess I had expected someone who looked like he was ex-cop or FBI, but Joe was the exact opposite. He was short—five-nine or five-ten—in his late forties or early fifties, thin, and dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. There was nothing about him that stood out—he was as vanilla as the car he was driving. Which, of course, probably made him an excellent investigator. He was totally forgettable.

As we shook, Jess got out of the car and joined us. Joe looked at her closely, then said, “I’ve seen every picture of you available. Your hair is different, but there’s no doubt that you are Jessica Norton.”

“Jess is fine,” she responded.

“Okay. Jess it is. Nice to meet you.” They shook. “Mill has briefed me on everything you told him. Hard to believe about Hillstrom, but then, if it was easy to believe, his people wouldn’t be doing a very good job, would they?”

“I know it seems fantastic, but it’s real,” said Jess.

“Well, the nice thing about my job,” responded Joe, “is that all I do is to collect evidence and follow it. I have no preconceived ideas, no prejudices, and I can leave emotions out of it altogether. It allows me to keep a totally open mind.”

He continued. “So here’s how it will work. There’s no need to tell me where you are, but you need to keep that phone with you so I can call you at a moment’s notice. A lot of what I do is time-sensitive, and if I discover something that I need to discuss with you, you need to be available. If I find evidence that they are on to you, I’ll especially need to get in touch with you. But it goes both ways. I’m available day and night. Call me whenever you need to. For most things, I’ll be your contact person. You should call me if you discover something. Mill will be in touch with you on a regular basis, but I’m in charge of the investigation.”

Jess and I both nodded our heads in agreement.

“And,” he added. “You’ve done a good job so far of staying under the radar. Jon, other than that vague description of you from the truck stop, so far it seems no one knows about you. You’ve gotta keep it that way.”

“What about the hotel in Provo?” I asked.

“I’ve been monitoring the news, as well as the police scanner. Again, a description that could apply to ten million men in this country, and a car registration that was bogus. And nobody actually saw your car. They’ve got nothing. So far you’re doing well.”

“Unless, of course, the guy I killed managed to tell someone where I was.”

“There is that,” said Joe. He opened the stolen phone and looked at the recent calls. “The call log is empty. In fact,” he was pressing various buttons, “the address book is empty too. There are no numbers in here at all. Do you think he knew it was you, or just suspected it?”

“I think he only ever saw us in the car,” I answered, “so my guess is that he suspected it. But he spent a lot of time tailing us, so he must have been pretty sure.”

“You’re going to have to start being even more vigilant.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t at least call the police,” said Jess.

“They’re the last people he’d call,” responded Joe. “If Hillstrom is behind all of this, he doesn’t want the police to catch you. I’m sure he’s got the reach to kill you while in custody, but he doesn’t know how much you’d tell the police before he could get to you. No, he’s using the police as a tool, but it’s to his advantage to catch you first and dispose of you quietly. I’m sorry. That was maybe a little too honest.” Jess had turned pale and was leaning against the car for support.

“No, it’s okay. I know the reality of it. I saw someone get killed right in front of me and I helped dispose of the body. The thought that they might be converging on us brought it all back a little too clearly.”

“Could I see the other things you got from the guy, including the gun? Also, I need to know exactly where the incident took place, and where you stashed his car.”

I told him, then retrieved the items from the trunk and gave them to him.

He studied the gun for a minute, then turned and reached into his car, pulled out a small cloth bag and handed it to Jess. “You’ve got small hands. A nine-mil is okay, but you’re going to have a bit of trouble shooting it, assuming you have to, of course. In the bag is a Sig .380—much smaller than the nine.”

Jess reached in the bag and took out the gun, which fit perfectly in the palm of her hand.

“It’s easier to conceal and you’ll find it more comfortable to shoot. I’ve included an extra magazine and a box of ammunition. I’d like to keep the nine, if you don’t mind. I want to trace it to see if it turns up anything. I’m sure it’ll lead to a dead end, but it’s worth a try. The Sig is completely untraceable. All I ask is that you don’t make any mention of it to Mill. He doesn’t want to know, so I’m not telling him that I gave this to you.”

“He was pretty insistent about that on the phone last night,” I said.

“I’ll let him know that I collected the gun from you. That’ll keep his conscience clear. He will assume that you are, in fact, unarmed. He’s going to be spinning to the media how innocent you are…”

“…which I am,” interrupted Jess.

“I know that and he knows that. The public doesn’t. If he can feel comfortable telling them that you are not armed, it just adds to the credibility of the story.”

“So what now?” I asked.

“Now, you’re kind of on your own. I wish I could hide you someplace or provide you with bodyguards, but frankly, if they are as organized as you say, those options wouldn’t protect you. You are better off on your own. Besides, my time and the time of my staff, is better spent trying to find something that will implicate Hillstrom. Okay, now get out of here.”

We shook again and headed to our cars. As I was getting in, he called out.

“One more thing. The guy you killed was most likely local help, and it doesn’t sound like he was particularly good at his job. With him suddenly dropping out of sight they will probably bring in the professionals. They won’t be as easy to kill or get away from. Just be aware of that.”

“Pleasant parting words,” I mumbled.

We sat in the car and watched Joe drive away. While I had a good feeling about Joe and his abilities, I was feeling suddenly lost. Jess must have been feeling the same way, because she asked, “What now?”

“I know this isn’t what you were hoping for, but I haven’t got a clue.”

I sat with my hands on the steering wheel at a total loss. Neither of us spoke. Finally, I looked at Jess and said, “Something.”

“Huh?”

“When in doubt, do something. Anything. We’re in a catatonic state right now and we have to jumpstart our brains. So I say we should just start driving. We know what our eventual destination is.”

“Can your car’s navigation get us to Homer?”

“Sure, but from here, who knows which way it’ll take us. It’ll give us choices, I’ve gotta go ‘pre-digital age’ and find a road atlas somewhere. Do they still make them?”

Jess shrugged. “Beats me.”

I started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, slowly making my way back to Interstate 15, and headed north. After crossing over the Idaho border I pulled into a service area. Lo and behold, they still made road atlases. Jess had fallen asleep—probably emotional exhaustion—and I let her sleep while I pored over the map. Finally making my decision, I got back on the highway and continued north.

Jess slept for almost two hours and was slightly disoriented when she woke up. I let her get her bearings.

“Are we still just driving, or have we made a decision?” she finally asked, after a long stretch in which I could actually hear her bones crack.

“We made a decision.”

“Oh good. What did we decide?”

“This road leads us right to the Canadian border, by way of Great Falls, Montana. Once we go over the border, eventually it will lead us to the Alaska Highway, which will take us right into Alaska.”

“Great. Did we figure out how to get me across the border?”

“Well, we had a lively discussion about that, but no, we haven’t figured it out yet. I’m hoping a solution will come to us when we get close.”

After Joe’s parting comments, we found ourselves on edge, constantly on the lookout for suspicious vehicles. Every once in a while a car would get behind us and follow for a few miles. Eventually it would get off an exit or pass us, but for those few minutes, the stress would build. Frankly, we were driving ourselves crazy. Just for variety, I occasionally got off the highway and followed smaller roads for a while, before connecting back up with I-15.

Late in the afternoon we were sitting in the car at a service area eating takeout when my phone rang. By that point, our nerves were shot, and the suddenness of the ringing had its effect. Jess let out an “Oh,” and dropped her water bottle on the floor, and I dropped my burger on my lap. The top bun flew off and the burger landed face down. My crotch was covered in ketchup.

“Mill?” asked Jess.

“No, that’s my phone. Probably my brother.”

I recognized the number. “Hey Scott.”

“Hey bro. Where are you?” I had called my brother back in South Carolina to let him know I was coming.

“I don’t know. Idaho, Wyoming, Montana … I’ve kind of lost track. Idaho, I think.”

“So you’re still a few days away.”

“Most definitely.” I answered.

“How’s your mood these days?”

“I’m finding ways to distract myself.” I looked over at Jess, who rolled her eyes.

“You sound better. You were in pretty bad shape when we last talked.”

“I was, but some things have happened to help change my perspective. I’ll tell you when I get there.”

“I’m looking forward to your trip stories,” he responded.

“Well, you won’t be bored. I guarantee it.” Jess could hear both ends of the conversation and I thought she was going to burst out laughing.

“Any mail come for me?” I had had all my mail forwarded to my brother.

“A credit card bill. You obviously haven’t been using it. There was only a small balance. I went ahead and paid it.”

“Thanks. I’ll pay you back when I get there.”

“You using cash for everything?”

“Yeah, that’s another thing I’ll explain when I see you.” I never told him about my safe deposit box money.

“Um,” he started. “I’m sorry Jon, but a package also arrived from your wife’s lawyers. Divorce papers.”

“Cool, I’ll sign them as soon as I get there.”

Scott was silent for a moment. “So you’re not upset?” he asked in a puzzled voice.

“God, no.”

“Wow, this
must
be some trip.”

“You have no idea. Um, I’m bringing a friend.”

“I figured as much,” he responded. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.” Scott could read me like a book. “Give me a call as you get closer.”

“I will. And Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for all your support. In case I don’t get the chance to say it later, I love you.”

“Uh, okay. I love you too. You’re not planning on dying on me, are you?”

“I sure hope not.” I hung up the phone and looked at Jess, tears in my eyes.

BOOK: Wisdom Spring
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