Page 50 of Shadows Relived
“Damn it, boy. She’s not your responsibility. She’s mine. I made that clear years ago, I thought.”
“And look how that’s working out for you.” He shook his head. “Don’t worry. I got her.”
“Now you look, I’m leaving D.C. and heading to our estate in Savannah. Bring her there before this gets even worse.”
Callen scoffed. “I doubt that’ll happen.”
And then he simply hung up.
He glanced over at Meaghan, her lips downturned as she stared back at him. “Well, that went as I expected.”
She simply nodded as she laid her head back on the seat and closed her eyes. She said little after that, and neither did he.
The silence between them wasn’t cold, just… weighted. Heavy with decisions still unspoken, with everything they hadn’t figured out yet. But she stayed close, brushing her thigh against his every time they hit a dip in the road. Her fingers had found his and didn’t let go.
By the time they crossed into Alabama, the landscape had flattened, giving way to sprawling farmland and backwater bays, dotted with skeletal fishing boats and old barns sagging under decades of weather. Mobile came and went in a blur of industrial ports and billboard sprawl, and then they were back in open country, interstate signs for Pascagoula and Biloxi finally appearing on the horizon like distant promises.
Still no tail. Still no margin for error.
They stopped for gas in a town so small even the map didn’t name it. While Elvis went inside to grab bottled water and aspirin, Callen stepped out of the SUV to stretch his legs and catch a breath. He leaned against the vehicle, breathing through the dull throb in his side. The bandages were holding, but barely. Blood had seeped through the stitches slightly.
“You’re pushing too hard,” Meaghan said, stepping in front of him. “Pulling at your stitches won’t help your healing.”
“We’re almost there. I can rest then. If we slow down, we get caught.”
“We will anyway if you bleed out.”
Her hands touched his chest gently, her eyes fierce.
“You’re angry,” he said.
“I’m terrified.”
He nodded once. “Me too, to be honest. Just means we’re alert. People who don’t fear even a little wind up dead.”
She looked like she wanted to scream, or cry, or shake him until he understood what it meant tomatter to someone again. Instead, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a protein bar.
“You’re no good to me weak,” she said, handing it over. “Or worse dead.”
Callen grinned faintly. “That sounded almost romantic.”
She rolled her eyes. “Just eat the bar, McHollister.”
Fueled up and loaded down with snacks, they all climbed back into the SUV, Gage taking over the driving. They went without GPS. Instead, Elvis held a laminated map, one edge frayed from too many folds, reading out road names in a slow, steady rhythm like a preacher on Sunday morning. “Next left’s a county road. Should be unmarked. You’ll see a rusted sign that says J.D. Hollow.”
Callen let his head fall back against the seat, forcing himself to breathe through the throb in his side.
Not much farther now.
Elvis caught his gaze in the rearview. “You sure you don’t want to stretch out more?”
Callen shook his head. “If I do, I might not get back up when we get there. I’d rather stay alert and upright.”
“He’s stubborn,” Meaghan said softly, like it was both an observation and a quiet plea. “He was the same way when we were younger.”
“Been that way since I’ve known him as well,” Elvis replied, glancing over his shoulder.
Callen’s phone vibrated in his lap. One glance at the screen had his jaw clenching.
