Page 14 of Fatal Mistake
She shifted and her view landed on Mount Hood, the top barely peppered with snow due to a dry spring and warmer-than-normal summer temperatures. Heavy clouds clung to the peak, but the forecast didn’t hold rain. A cool breeze drifted across the deck as her binoculars traveled farther west, landing on headlights slinking into the driveway, the vehicle coming to a stop at the gate about a quarter mile out.
She zoomed the lens closer, but in the fading light she couldn’t make out the driver sitting behind the wheel.
Oren?
Was it really him?
Only authorized forestry personnel could open the gate, but a simple lock wouldn’t stop Oren. Nothing would.
She had no time to waste. She had to move. Now!
She raced inside the cabin and grabbed the bag she’d prepared for a day such as this. She’d run the escape drill several times, and she went on autopilot. At twenty miles per hour, the top speed at which any vehicle could take the pitted drive, it took a minute to reach the tower. Add unlocking the gate, getting out, punching in the code, lifting the lock, getting back into the car, then making the drive, and that equaled four minutes at a minimum. She could collect her bag and rifle and get down three flights of stairs to take cover in her blind in the woods in two minutes flat, well before anyone spotted her.
She snatched the rifle hanging by the door before hitting the circuit breaker for the outside light, dousing the area in a dusky haze. She bolted for the stairs. Her pulse raced as she descended, one foot after the other landing on the metal treads by rote memory, sure and swift like she’d practiced. She counted them down, fifteen to each landing, times three.
She hit the ground hard, and a puff of gritty dust filtered into the air. Her breathing accelerated, and she silently crept across the flat land. Over dormant grass dotted with weeds. Past the picnic table and fire pit. The outhouse.
She slipped into the camouflaged hunting blind she’d staked at the edge of the woods and secured the fabric door before rolling up the opening meant for targeting and firing a weapon at an animal. She lifted her binoculars into the opening.
The light waned, the sky now purple and ominous. She’d scanned down the drive toward the car. A dark fog colored her vision, but she saw no one behind the wheel.
He’s on his way.
Adrenaline spiking, her hands trembling, she jostled the binoculars as she scanned up the drive. Slowly. Inch by inch.
No one.
At least she didn’t think anyone was sneaking down the driveway, but the sun had made its final plunge below the horizon, and cloaking shadows now obscured the drive. He would have to show up at dusk. Of course he would. Easier to sneak up on her. But she’d planned for this—for every situation she could imagine, and her imagination had been vivid all these days since she’d run from him.
A shiver ran over her, and her whole body shook.
“Get a grip,” she whispered. “You’re prepared. Just follow your plan.”
She dug into her bag. Pulled out night-vision binoculars she’d purchased should an occasion like this arise. She lifted them into the opening and scanned, her breath catching in her throat. Still nothing. No one. She blinked hard, clearing her eyes, and looked again. Whoever had come calling had to have taken to the woods.
Fine. The scrub was thick and tangled. No way he could get through that brush without her hearing his movements, but not from inside the blind.
She sat back to think. She was safer in the blind. Especially with nightfall. She’d blend in with the trees.
Time ticked by. Minute after minute. Waiting.
“Enough,” she whispered.
She wouldn’t keep sitting there, waiting for him to come kill her. She’d never be a victim again like she was at the pump house. She lived through that nightmare and was stronger now. Prepared and experienced. She would take action, leave the protection of the blind, stay a few steps ahead of Oren to get to the truck she’d hidden down the road, and flee from Oregon.
She flipped open the door, the soft sound of the polyester fabric whispering into the quiet.
She got to her knees and shouldered her bag. After a deep breath of resolve, she made ready to leave while staying low to the ground to minimize the target she presented.
“Hello, Tara.” A male voice came from just outside her blind, in the black of night, paralyzing her and leaving no time to grab her rifle for protection.
Chapter 6
Cal flipped on his Maglite and aimed it above Tara’s head. Her face bone-white, she didn’t respond to his greeting, but seemed frozen in place, drawing in air and blowing it out.
He holstered his gun and gave her a moment to compose herself while he ran his gaze over her to be sure her race from the tower hadn’t resulted in an injury.
Her cutoff jeans and tank top gave him a good look at her body that had turned to hard muscle the last three months. She’d been working out, likely to ensure she had the physical stamina to evade Keeler. And the bright yellow socks embroidered with black cats sticking out of her hiking boots? They weren’t at all helpful in evading a bomber, but maybe they made her smile.
