Wisdom Spring (13 page)

“He sounds like a good guy,” she said.

“The best. I just hope we’re not putting him in danger by going up there.”

“Jon, we don’t have to go to Homer.”

“Yeah, we do. A part of the puzzle is up there, and we’re not going to get out of this until the puzzle is solved. Besides, if I can stay anonymous, he won’t be in any danger and it’ll be a good place for us to be.”

We did a lot of driving that day and made it to Great Falls, staying in a decent-looking Best Western. My days of five-star hotels were a thing of the past, but I had come to the conclusion that it no longer mattered. All I was looking for now was a safe haven. When your perspective changes, the hotels all look the same.

We caught a clip of Mill’s press conference after we had gotten into bed. As expected, he handled himself well.

Mill Colson:
“I’m here to announce that I have been retained by Jessica Norton to represent her in response to the laughable charges that have been brought against her. She is the victim of an insidious conspiracy, and over time we will prove that.”

Reporter:
“Is she going to give herself up?”

Mill:
“While I, of course, recommended that option, she feels that she would be putting herself further in harm’s way by surrendering to the authorities. And I will respect her decision.”

Reporter:
“Do you know where she is?”

Mill:
“I honestly have no idea where she is.”

Reporter:
“Did she come to you, or did you seek her out?”

Mill (with a smirk):
“I don’t seek out my clients.”

Laughter from the audience.

Reporter:
“What can you tell us about the rumor that she is traveling with a man?”

Mill:
“I can’t tell you anything about it.”

Reporter:
“Do you know?”

Mill:
“Next question.”

Reporter:
“What is this conspiracy you talk about? Isn’t a conspiracy theory just a convenient way to put the attention on someone else?”

Mill:
“Yes, but in this case, it’s very real. It’s too early to go into details.”

Reporter:
“Is she armed and dangerous, as the police are telling us?”

Mill:
“She is not armed and she has never been dangerous. As I said, she is a victim here, a convenient patsy for an elaborate conspiracy that was about to be revealed. The true story will come out and Jessica Norton will go from feared killer to American hero.”

The story had already exceeded sound bite limits, so the rest of the news conference was cut from the report for a commercial.

“What do you think?” asked Jess

“He’s a celebrity lawyer. I think he can’t help being dramatic. I didn’t think he was going to bring up the conspiracy at all, so that surprises me. He may have just put a bulls-eye on his back. He also put one on yours by calling you an American hero. He’s telling them what they could only suspect, that you know even more than they thought. I don’t think it was a great news conference, but I still think we picked the right person.”

It was the middle of the night when the phone rang. It took me a minute to realize that it was the disposable cell from Mill. I turned the light on and reached for the phone.

“Hello?” I said, my voice thick with sleep.

“You’re a dead man.”

That woke me up. “What?” Jess was looking over at me with concern on her face. I put the phone on speaker.

“The only way you’re going to live is to tell me where she is, then leave her and get in your car and go. Just keep driving. It’s only a matter of time before we find out your name. When we do, you will die, but not before you get to witness the very ugly deaths of your family members. I’m sure you have children, a wife, parents. Doesn’t matter who. We will find them and kill them.”

I disconnected the call without saying a word.

“Do you think they know where we are?” asked Jess.

“No. I think they were fishing, and that wouldn’t have been enough time for them to trace it, if they even can. I’m much more worried about something else. That was the disposable phone Mill gave me, which means they have access to that number. That can only mean one thing: Mill Colson has a mole in his office.”

Chapter 13

We were too wired to sleep now. I looked at the clock. It was 2:30. There was only one thing I could think of doing. I put the phone on speaker so Jess could hear, and dialed Joe Gray’s number. He answered on the second ring, sounding wide awake.

“Hey,” he said.

I started right in without a preamble. “Who besides you and Mill knows my name?”

“Nobody. What’s going on?” He spoke briskly, instantly alert, as if he was always on the phone at 2:30 in the morning. Maybe he was.

“You’re absolutely sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“And who has this number?”

“The same two people, just Mill and me. What’s happening?”

I told him about the phone call. I finished by saying, “So somebody else has that number. I’m thinking it’s someone in Mill’s office.”

“Shit.”

“So I go back to my other question. Now that it’s been determined that you two aren’t the only ones with access to this phone, is it possible that someone also has access to my name?”

“No. There is no possible way.”

“Why?”

“Because he only ever told me your name once, and in a very secure location. We have systems in place when we have to meet about something highly confidential. You just have to trust me on that one. We’ve been doing this a long time. When we do have to refer to you, we have a codename for you, and that’s all we ever use.”

I didn’t bother asking him what it was.

“As for the phone,” he continued, “that baffles me, but we’re talking about electronics and communications. There’s always someone who can hack into that stuff. However, I will bring this up with Mill. You could be right. If so, this conspiracy might be enormous. Hillstrom could have tentacles in companies all over the country.”

He continued. “Here’s what I want you to do. Make sure you have my number and Mill’s number memorized. Destroy this phone. Tomorrow, pick up another prepaid phone and call me with its number. Only me. From here on, you communicate only with me. Don’t lose Mill’s number, but don’t call him. Just to be safe, don’t ever identify yourself when you call me. I never want your name anywhere out there.”

“How do you know the leak isn’t in your office?”

“Because my office travels with me. I am my office. When I referred to the people working under me, they are not people I actually see—maybe once or twice a year at most. I pass on the assignments and we communicate by phone and email. However,” he said, stopping me before I could interrupt, “the assignments they have now are all related to Hillstrom. Nobody, absolutely nobody, knows about you. Whoever got that number was just hoping they could either scare you enough to give up Jess, or somehow have you reveal something about yourself. I wouldn’t worry about your family. They don’t know who you are, so they can’t get to them.”

“That’s the funny thing,” I answered. “I have no family.” I decided not to mention my brother. “There is nobody they could hold over my head, so that doesn’t concern me.”

“Well, you did the right thing to call me. Call me again when you get your new phone, then become invisible.”

After I hung up and smashed the phone, Jess said, “Should we leave tonight? Do you think we’re in danger here?”

“No. I really don’t think they have a clue as to where we are. In fact, that call assures me that the guy I killed didn’t get my plate number. Or if he did get it, he didn’t pass it on, as we figured from his empty phone log. If he had, they would have looked it up and the one who called would have referred to me by name. Using my name would have added a whole new dimension of fear to the threats. Besides,” I continued, “we can’t leave now. We’re close to the Canadian border and we haven’t figured out yet how to get you across. Whatever we decide to do should be done during a busy time, not in the middle of the night.”

Jess seemed to accept my explanation, but logical or not, neither of us slept for the rest of the night. What I didn’t say to Jess was that I believed Joe when he told us in the parking lot that the disappearance of the guy I killed would send up a flag. I had no doubt that they knew generally where we were. How many people would they send in to saturate the area? Would they be watching the border?

We left at nine. We stopped at a Radio Shack and I bought a phone. Once it was activated, I called Joe and gave him the number. Lack of sleep and stress from the phone call the night before had us exhausted, and you do stupid things when you are tired.

On our way out of town I stopped at a diner and told Jess I’d order some breakfast and bring it back to the car. Jess had apparently had enough.

“I want to go in too.”

“That’s not smart.”

“I don’t care. We’re in the middle of nowhere and I look different from my photo. No one will notice. Just once I’d like to sit down at a table for my breakfast. Just today. I need this.”

She had a pleading look about her and I couldn’t argue any longer. I should have, but frankly, I was just as tired of it all as she was. So I gave in.

There are old “classic” diners—the ones labeled Americana that they write whole books about—and then there are just old diners. This was the latter. There was nothing charming about it. Nothing that made you yearn for the good old days when diners were an American institution (long before I was born). It was actually fairly disgusting. The place reeked of old grease. There were about a dozen customers, not one weighing less than 300 pounds. I immediately saw the source of the weight problem in the cans of lard sitting next to the grill. Five steps in, Jess must have also had enough of the assault on her senses.

“Field trip’s over,” she declared, and we made a hasty retreat back to the car.

As I was opening my door, I looked over at the diner’s entrance and saw two men who had been about to enter staring at Jess. I pegged them immediately as from out of town, given that they each weighed less than 200 pounds. They also weren’t dressed like locals and had an air about them that said, “we’re on a mission.” They discussed something for a moment, then went in, both casting glances back our way.

Fortunately, my car was parked in the furthest corner of the lot away from the door and in such a way as to make my plates unreadable. The best they could have come away with was the fact that they weren’t Montana plates.

I didn’t want to draw attention to ourselves, so I tried to stay as casual as possible as I pulled out of the lot. Once on the highway though, I accelerated quickly, hoping to put a lot of distance between us.

Jess could sense the change in my demeanor, but wisely said nothing and didn’t turn around to see what was scaring me. Once safely away, however, she cast a worried look my way.

“Two guys,” I said in response to her stare. “They were entering the diner and looking at you. I’m convinced they were Hillstrom’s men.”

“Maybe they just like pretty girls,” she responded, trying for some levity, but falling flat.

“Those weren’t looks of lust,” I said.

“Then why didn’t they follow?”

“I don’t think they were convinced it was you.”

“Think it’s one of those situations where they’ll sit down and midway through their meal they’ll decide it was me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking. It’s why I’m trying to get as far ahead of them as I can.”

“Would it help if we put on the stolen license plates?” asked Jess.

“It might help,” I answered. “You never know. But I’d rather wait until after I cross into Canada.”

“I notice you didn’t say ‘we’,” said Jess.

“We’ve got to figure out a different way for you to get across. Any messages?” I asked hopefully.

“Nothing. He’s been strangely silent.”

As I drove, I kept one eye on my rearview mirror. So far, nothing. It was déjà vu. This was exactly like my trip across Texas—ugly flat country, and a long straight road with little traffic. When we reached Shelby, I pulled into a truck stop/motel. I parked in amongst some eighteen-wheelers where we would be hidden from both the highway and the rest of the parking lot.

“Before I saw those guys, I was going to suggest stopping really early and catching up on our sleep. Not now. Now time is not on our side. We have to get you out of this car.”

“Maybe I could stow away in one of those trucks.”

“Assuming you could get in—and all their cargo doors seem to have locks—it would be too dangerous.”

We waited and watched for over an hour. Although we were hidden, I had a view of the highway. About a half an hour into our wait, I saw a newish, black SUV with our two friends get off the exit. I got out of the car to get a better vantage point of the parking lot and saw them pull in. They took two laps around the lot with all the cars, then drove toward the town of Shelby.

“One crisis averted for the moment,” I said as I got back in the car.

The waiting was interminable. Absolutely nothing was coming to us.

Finally, Jess said, “Horses.”

“Again?”

“I guess it was a message, the thing about horses.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Look.” She pointed to a large horse trailer being towed by a powerful pickup truck make its way around the parking lot, finally settling near a field, and only about a hundred feet away from us.

“It has Alberta plates,” she said.

“Yeah, but is it coming from Alberta or going to Alberta?”

“I’ve gotta trust the message. I have to assume it’s going there.”

We watched as a man and woman got out of the truck and went to the back of the trailer, which was facing us. They pulled down the ramp and unlocked the inner door, and the woman checked on the horses.