“Trust me, I get it.” Tara swatted the big vest out of the way and buckled her seat belt. “He’s obsessed with catching him.”
“Obsessed? Maybe…but not in the sense that you know obsessed.”
“There’s a difference?”
“To me there is. Obsession for me denotes personal gain or satisfaction. Cal isn’t doing this for himself. He’s doing it to keep people alive.”
“Is he?” Tara asked. “I don’t know him at all, but it seems to me he’s got something to prove and something’s driving him beyond apprehending a killer.”
Brynn’s eyebrow lifted, but she didn’t respond as she wedged her gun between her knees and turned the key.
Right. Close down like Cal.
Try to get personal with either of them and they shut down. The whole team could be like that for all Tara knew.
Brynn shifted into drive and drew her handgun. She rested it on her lap before looking at Tara again. “Our drive is short, but you may find your adrenaline subsiding and fatigue settling in. I need you to stay alert and keep your focus. Eyes open and directed out the window as we roll. If you see anything out of the ordinary, tell me. If I tell you to hit the floorboards, you do so. Got it?”
“Yes,” Tara answered.
Brynn gave a firm nod and set the vehicle rolling down the road. Tara kept her focus out the window as instructed and watched the wooded property pass by. A property that for nearly a month had been the closest place to a refuge that she’d found since taking off from the hospital. Now, Oren sat in some tree, firing at this team—at the guy who’d offered his life for hers—and she didn’t know very much about any of them.
She glanced at Brynn. “I wondered if—”
“No talking until we get to the command post.”
Tara wished Brynn had asked nicely, but there wasn’t anything nice about this situation. It was big and nasty and ugly, like a two-headed gargoyle, and Tara wanted it to be over.
She leaned forward and resumed her watch out the window. Before long they approached a large truck like the ones that delivered packages to her doorstep, but this one held the local sheriff’s office information and emblem on the side.
Brynn bumped the SUV onto the gravel shoulder and shifted into park. “Wait here.”
Her handgun outstretched and the submachine gun slung over her shoulder, she came around to open Tara’s door. “Stay by my side and climb into the back of the truck in front of me.”
Tara followed directions, and Brynn escorted her across the road, standing guard while Tara took the three stairs to the truck. She quickly looked over the space where cabinets lined both walls and cutout sections housed small desks. A deputy with wild red hair sat behind the wheel.
Brynn brushed past Tara and dropped into a seat behind a laptop. “I’ll have the team’s feed up in a few seconds.”
Brynn tapped a few keys on the computer and a barrage of gunshots sounded from the speakers. Tara turned her focus to the screen where she saw large maple trees and Douglas firs mixed with quaking aspens, their white trunks vivid in the shadowed forest.
“Take cover,” Cal called out as the video panned through the trees.
“Cal’s wearing the camera?” Tara asked Brynn, who nodded. “Is he the leader?”
Brynn shook her head. “He’s lead on this investigation, but Max White is our leader. He’s back in D.C. watching the same feed.”
Tara didn’t bother explaining that she’d read about Agent White on the Internet and only wondered about the group coming under fire. “Can they hear us?”
“I’ve muted our mic to prevent any distractions. I’ll let you know if that changes.”
Tara listened to the exchange of bullets, heard Cal’s deep breathing and the deafening report of his gun. Oren could kill Cal. Just like that, with one well-placed shot, which Oren had the skills to land.
Her mouth went dry as she kept her gaze glued to the action.
The camera panned to the other team members as if Cal had turned. “We’ve got him pinned down. Now it’s just a matter of bringing him in.”
“Just,” the man sitting next to Cal said, “all depends on his stockpile of ammo.”
“And on us keeping our heads down until it’s depleted,” a woman’s voice joined in.