Page 50 of Collateral Damage
When he returns his attention to his laptop, I retreat into the bathroom, close the door behind me, and try to accept that we’re both under enormous pressure right now.
But as I brace my hands on the edge of the sink, one truth settles over me with devastating clarity.
If he believes God holds him personally responsible for those in his care, if anything happens to me…
Silas Hightower will never forgive himself.
Silas
I abandon drafting the final email about red tape stalling a time-sensitive extraction they should’ve greenlit hours ago, and get to my feet. The team’s staged, transport’s locked, and we’re still waiting on a signature no one’s willing to put their name on.
This level of bureaucracy is why we move in the gray. And don’t always tick every box as neatly as government departments like.
It’s also why we have as many enemies as allies spread across the country.
My jaw is so tight it aches as I pull out my phone and compare the map Axel forwarded with the one tacked to the wall beside the door.
I trace the western slope with my index finger—the easiest route in if someone knew what they were doing. I calculate the time it would take to cover the distance on foot, mentally marking the secondary paths and hidden logging trails—the ones someone would use if they were trying to move unseen. I focus on the western slope, mapping the path of least resistance.
When I’m sure I have a measure on it, I dial Axel. “Walk the perimeter with me,” I say when he answers. “Start west side.”
Paper rustles on the other end. “Steep approach,” Axel says. “Rock shelf halfway up. You’d have to come in on foot.”
“Timber cover?”
Axel's voice crackles through the static, thin and distorted. “Good for the first two hundred yards. After that, you’re exposed.”
My finger moves south. “Creek bed?”
“Too narrow for a vehicle,” Axel replies. “But a man could follow it partway. Noise from the water would cover movement.”
I nod to myself, already mapping the approach. “Logging trails?”
“Two old ones on the east side. Both washed out about a mile back. You’d need a snowmobile, then you’d have to hike the rest.”
I trace the northern edge of the map, studying the contour lines. “Anything else I’m missing?”
There’s a pause. Long enough to pull my attention from the map.
Axel exhales slowly through the line. "I missed something, boss."
My gut tightens, a cold, sharp knot forming. "What?"
"There's an old service road I’d forgotten about. North side of the property. Hasn't been used in years, but it's there."
I scan the snow-dusted tree line through the glass, the white expanse looking suddenly like a casket. "How accessible?"
"In bad weather? Hard to say. But if someone knows it's there and has the right equipment..." He trails off, the unspoken threat hanging in the air. We both know what that means. A blind spot. A breach waiting to happen.
"Send me the coordinates."
"Already done. Boss, I'm sorry. I should?—"
"Not your fault," I cut him off. "Keep working the other angles. I'll handle this end."
I end the call and stand there for a moment, the silence of the room pressing against my eardrums. My mind is spinning through defensive perimeters that just grew a mile wider.
Ava exits the bathroom, her gaze a steady weight on my shoulders. "There's an old service road on the north side," I say, turning to face her. "I need to check it out. Make sure no one's using it."
