I have no clue why I'm excited for winter this year--except that I like snow--except the slippery part of it.
I enjoy watching wildlife parade through my yard so regularly during this time of year I could set my watch by it. However,
I'm not fond of their bush and tree trimming techniques.
Secrets at Midnight
Leona Palmer Haag
Chapter 39
Matt awoke when the
storm hit. It began with a crash of thunder beyond the ridge. A cold drizzle
fell and water trickled down his neck. He tried to squeeze closer to the tree
trunk where he’d sought refuge, but sharp branches poked his side. He
remembered other nights when he'd been more miserable—one while tossing on a
disabled boat off the Florida Keys leaning over the bow heaving and praying for
morning and rescue. Both had come. Surely it would happen again.
Thoughts shifted to
Jenn and Katie. He wondered if they were freezing to death less than a hundred
yards away. He listened but heard no whimpering.
Toward dawn the rain
tapered off, then stopped. Matt listened more intently now for baby wails, but
the forest lay silent, divulging no secrets. He ate a quick breakfast, feeling
guilty he could appease his hunger when Jenn and Katie were starving—except for
the Cheerios.
Adjusting his pack,
Matt began tracking, and to both his joy and dismay, he clearly found their
trail. Anyone could easily follow them. For more than an hour he walked, then
he heard it—a distinct noise—a scuffling. Bear or Jenn? Both could be deadly.
He paused and listened. The sound had stopped—as if holding its breath in
reply.
Matt drew his gun.
Basically it was useless against a bear, and completely useless if he faced
Jenn. Several steps brought him to a fallen tree where Jenn sat with Katie in
her lap, her gun leveled at his chest. Raising his hands, Matt slowly crouched
and set his gun in the wet undergrowth, then stood. He silently cursed himself
for not seeing her first—circling and catching her off guard and disarming her.
Wasn’t he supposed to know everything? “You okay, Jenn?” he said.
“Perfectly
happy. How about you?”
He had no idea if she
could be deadly. She'd been married to two men she could have justifiably put a
bullet through. “I was okay until you stepped on a wrist.”
“At which point I got
sucked into your scheme. Or was I a part of it from the start—scare me, kidnap
me, hold me hostage? What’s next?”
Deciding talking might
help his situation, he said, “Maybe you should fill me in. What's going on?”
Jenn didn't
cooperate—reveal her thoughts and how he should best respond—something he should
have guessed would happen. After all, hadn't he known that characteristic since
her birth?
“Matt, exactly how am
I supposed to get Katie off this mountain? Would it be better for me to enlist
your help, or should I blow you away and try escaping alone?”
He sucked in a
breath—she had either learned to bluff, or was serious. “I can help better
without bullet holes.” He slowly lowered his hands, but Jenn signaled to keep
them up. He obeyed. “You disabled my phone. Did you hear something bad about me
before you were given a code to activate a GPS system?”
She silently observed
him.
“Company arrived at
the cabin yesterday afternoon.”
She made no response.
He cleared his throat.
“I don’t know who, but unsavory company, is my guess.” He stopped, his hands
inching downward.
Jenn wagged the gun.
“Get your hands up and keep talking. I'll listen until I get tired, and then
I'll wake Katie up with one blast. I’m sure that’s all it will take because I
usually hit pretty darn close to the bull’s eye, as you well know. Lower your hands
again and Katie’s nap will end.”
Matt exhaled. “My
guess is that whoever you spoke to about me probably didn't tell you about the
disabling system. Did it surprise you when the thing suddenly turned off and
you couldn't contact anyone?” He kept talking, babbling about trying to charge
the battery to no avail and pulling out something suspicious from the inside,
probably a second GPS devise. He hoped his words would win her trust enough
that she’d lower her gun and fill in unknown blanks.
“Jenn, this mountain
is now swarming with people hunting for us. I'm glad you got a head start. We'd
both be dead right now—or at least me—if you hadn't already run. I wouldn't
have left you and Katie—I would have fought it out. I wouldn't have considered
escaping down the ravine. You did the smart thing. Thanks.”
Jenn remained silent,
her gun steady, and he had no idea where he stood—except in front of a
distrustful woman with a gun. “Who told you I defected?”
“Nick,” she whispered.
Matt sucked in his
breath. “You sure?”
She didn't reply.
“Did you talk or text?
What code name did he use—something only the two of you would recognize? I call
Monica a dozen different things, and she has dozens of pet names for me. If she
uses one of them, I know it's her. Would anyone else think of calling me
Franso? It means, France. So when are
we going? No one but us could think up that name. What did Nick call you?”
The girl before him
remained silent.
“Nick wouldn't be
generic. He wouldn't call you honey or sugar—names anyone could guess. I once
heard him call you short stack. Has he ever called you that?”
She nodded.
“Then you know what it
means, but I don’t. That’s the kind of name he’d use.”
She bit her bottom
lip—it stopped trembling.
Risking everything, he
moved one step forward. “Jenn, if I wanted to fool you, I would. If I wanted to
turn you over for ransom money, I would have already done it.”
“I don’t know that,”
she whispered.
“I want to protect
you, but I can't promise I'll succeed. I suspect this mountain is crawling with
good guys and bad guys who will shoot it out over us, but hopefully not in our
presence. I hope the good guys win, but there might not be any around except
you and me.”
She whimpered, “I
don't trust you, Matt. Everything about this whole mess stinks.”
He inched another step
forward, but Jenn halted him with a jerk of her gun. “Hold still.”
Wishing he could kneel
before her, be said, “I can't prove anything to you—that I'm good—and I can't
promise you anything—except I’ll do my best to get you to safety, or die
trying.”
“Who is chasing me—and
why me? Why is Nick involved? When can we go home?”
Shaking his head he
said, “I don’t have answers. Money, power and greed rule some people’s lives,
and at the moment, that includes ours. They use every exchangeable commodity to
satisfy their whims—guns, drugs, and people. People live and die according to
their desires. Wars are waged, won and lost. Basically, your husband and I are
in the whim reduction business, and because you married a whim reducer, you’re
involved. Sorry about that.”
She shook her gun at
him. “I have a whim. Get me home to my husband and I'll be satisfied. Can you
do that? Promise me that, and I promise I won't turn you into Swiss cheese.”
Suppressing a smile, he said, “Gladly, but we
need to hurry because I suspect someone not far behind us has their own whim,
and it's not as nice as yours.”
End Chapter 39
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