Pure Dynamite (15 page)

Which makes him hard to trace, Adam thought. And difficult to get in touch with on short notice. "Somebody must have hellacious connections at the phone company."

"He only does
it..."
Lyle's voice dropped, his eyes shifting to Renata, as if worried he'd said too much in front of her.

Adam was curious about what he left unsaid.
He
only does
it...
When? When they have a big job coming up? Adam thought back to his conversation with Stan and the shipment of plastic explosives he was tracking. Did Lyle know about his father's plans?

Grabbing scissors, Adam cut Renata's restraints. "Finish dressing his wound and get him ready for travel."

"But—"

"Now!"

Moving to the exam table, she disconnected the IV tube and put a med lock over the port. Then she covered it with gauze.

"Just yank the damn IV thing out," Lyle said.

She shook her head. "You will need more fluid and antibiotics. And I had a hard enough time getting this one started."

While she helped Lyle into a scrub suit, Adam grabbed the trashcan and dumped as much as he could inside before pulling the liner out. Destroying every shred of evidence would take too much time. And would ultimately prove moot. However, not making an attempt to disguise their presence seemed too sloppy.

When he finished, he yanked Renata's cell phone from his pocket. He knew Stan hadn't had time to change it over yet, which was okay. "Does the hospital have a clinic in Fayetteville?"

Fayetteville was about seventy miles southeast of Durham. She nodded. "But this late, they're closed."

"Call Fayetteville police. Tell them your name is Nelly Bright and you work for the cleaning service. You just left that clinic and noticed two men who may have matched the mug shots you saw on TV Tell them they were driving a brown Chevrolet Impala, with tag number 020936L. Then complain you're losing your signal."

"I won't help you create a diversion."

He pulled his gun. "You will."

Renata stared at the large handgun. She knew from a gun safety course it was a nine-millimeter. The clip easily held fifteen rounds, maybe more. She also knew from working the ER the gun was deadly even with one bullet.
But only if the safety was off.

Her eyes flared. Did Adam realize the safety was on?

Did she want to test him?

"No tricks this time." Adam got the telephone number from directory assistance, then held the phone while she talked his finger over the power button.

As soon as she said, "My signal is breaking up—" he switched it off.

"Let's go." He moved toward her, held out a hand.

Renata hung back. Leaving with them—not knowing if she'd ever return—was too terrifying to contemplate.

"Can't you just leave me here?"

Adam wished he could. He didn't want someone else to worry about. But he did need her for Lyle's sake. For now he had to play hard-ass.

He motioned toward the door. "Grab the box of supplies."

Keeping his gun on her, Adam helped Lyle outside. Lyle pulled out a cigarette. "I know we're in a hurry. Just let me get two quick puffs."

"Make it fast." Adam pulled Renata to the rear of the car.

She resisted. "Are you going to lock me in the trunk?"

Lyle groaned. "Right! If I need help what are we gonna do? Pull over and pop you out of the trunk? With cops looking for us?"

Ignoring Lyle, Adam stowed the supplies and slammed the trunk closed. Then he tucked his gun behind him into his pants and caught her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.

She flinched, her gaze a mixture of wariness and revulsion. He knew it was more than the horror of being forced to give medical care to someone she loathed. Two escaped convicts were abducting her. Men who'd been in prison, locked up without social contact—without female contact. He could imagine the direction of her fears.

"You're riding in the front, but you do have to keep down," he said. "You also have to stay tied."

"Don't." She tried to dart away, but he stopped her. Catching her wrists, he bound them with a strip of gauze he'd stashed in his pocket earlier.

"Jumping from a moving car could mess you up," he warned dispassionately. "If it didn't kill you, that is."

"I won't jump." It was a lie. First chance she got, she would try to get away.

"Good." Tugging her upper arm, he pulled her to the passenger door. When she opened her mouth to complain, he cut her off. "I hope it won't be necessary to gag you."

Frustrated, Renata swallowed her protests and climbed into the car.
Bide your time, your moment will come,
she told herself.

As they pulled out, she looked back at the clinic. The lights were off, the door locked. With her car gone, nothing looked suspicious. If the police did go door- to-door they wouldn't suspect anything. And if Clarence returned he'd simply think she'd gone home on her own.

Her hopes sank even further as she recalled that she worked second shift tomorrow. It could be late afternoon before anyone even missed her. How long after that before someone called the police? And unless they suspected foul play, what was the rule on reporting missing adults? Forty-eight hours?

She closed her eyes, offered a brief prayer for her own safety.

The trip to Yanceyville, a sleepy community about an hour north, was uneventful except for the gusty winds and rain that steadily increased. Between the flood and the false Fayetteville sighting Renata phoned in, the cops were busy elsewhere.

Adam watched the rearview mirror, wondered if Ethan's men were trailing them or simply monitoring the tracking device. He hoped the latter, not wanting to arouse suspicion.

Jessup's Truck Stop was the only business on that particular stretch of highway. Surrounded by dark woods and pastures, the parking lot was crowded with eighteen-wheelers in spite of the large spray-painted sign that read "NO GAS." Many of the trucks were probably stranded until road conditions cleared and fuel was available; others were waiting for businesses to reopen, or for instructions where to leave their freight.

In the back of the lot sat a white Buick LaSabre with dark tinted windows. Adam parked Renata's car and approached the Buick cautiously.

Inside was a sheet of paper with typed instructions. A handwritten postscript said
supplies in trunk
. Adam read the directions, memorizing what he could. They were headed toward the Appalachian Mountains, to a rural area of northern Virginia. He hoped all the roads between here and there were passable.

He checked the contents of the Buick's trunk to make certain Nevin hadn't left another handgun. A cooler sat beside a flashlight and a coil of rope. A pair of handcuffs, key in the lock, was included along with some clothes for Lyle and a bottle of prescription painkillers.

Adam read the bottle's label. The powerful narcotic was familiar. It received a lot of press about its potential for abuse. The street demand for the drug was so high many small pharmacies refused to carry it after being targeted for break-ins.

The cooler held water, some peanut butter, crackers and a pocketknife. No ice. Judging by these supplies,
they weren't expected to be on the road long. He slid the knife in his pocket along with the prescription.

Behind him, someone coughed.

Adam spun around, gun drawn. He scanned the shadowy tree line. While he couldn't see anyone, he sensed a person about twenty feet to his left. He raised his gun, finger on the trigger. If it was Ethan's men again, he'd shoot them.

"Come out, slowly."

"Easy there." A wiry man not much older than Lyle, stepped forward, a rifle in hand. "I'm a friend of Nevin's."

Adam lowered his weapon.

The man did likewise. "Just verifying it was you. We get our share of riffraff here, so I was reluctant to leave the car with the keys in it and all."

"Appreciate it." Adam tried to get a better look at the man without being obvious. How close a friend was he? "Is Nevin around? Lyle's eager to see him."

"Nobody sees him. Man's a ghost."

"Safer that way," He shrugged faking indifference.

"Make sure you leave keys in your vehicle so we can drive it off."

Adam's ears perked at the word
we.
How many more friends did Nevin have tucked in the woods? "Will do. Anything else?"

"Yeah. Tell Lyle that Griz says to keep his eye to the sky."

"I'll give him the message."

But the man had already disappeared into the mist.

Adam closed the trunk and moved the Buick closer to Renata's car. He helped Lyle into the Buick.

The younger man moved slowly, cursing frequently. "Did Nevin leave anything for pain?"

Adam dug the pills out of his pocket. "Should I check with Renata before you take these?"

Lyle took the bottle, scanned the label. "Nah, I've taken this stuff before. And the doc would probably rather see me suffer without anything."

"By the way, I met a friend of yours."

"Who?"

"Griz." Adam repeated the message. "What the hell does that mean? Should we expect trouble?"

"It means they're planning a diversion."