Page 104 of Trace of Doubt
“Tempt me.”
I pressed the light on my phone and flipped open the lid. “Glazed donuts. Chocolate-filled donuts. Blueberry scones. Sausage-egg bagel. Bear claws. Apple fritters—”
“Sausage-egg bagel, then the apple fritter. Too bad we don’t have coffee.”
“Next time I’ll pack it. Orange juice too.” I handed him his early morning breakfast.
“Shelby, you’re a brave woman.”
“Not really. I’m tired of playing the scapegoat. Praying this time the plan works.”
“Relax, you’re sitting beside the best of the best.”
I laughed. “Typical FBI mentality. But a little confidence is good.”
“You must be talking about Denton. The man has fallen hard.”
He wasn’t alone. “I’ve tried to talk him down. A supposed relationship has little chance of survival. He deserves a woman without a past.”
Mike turned left down a country road. “You mean he needs a woman who’s selfish and doesn’t make sacrifices out of love?”
“I’m not anything special. Change of subject, please.”
He chuckled. “Denton was right.”
“About what?”
“You’re stubborn.”
I could hear Denton saying those very words. That stubbornness had walked with me for as long as I could remember. “You bet. I stand my ground.”
“If it doesn’t get you killed.” He pointed to his phone. “I have a copy of the handwriting on the suicide-sympathy card. Take a look to see if you recognize it.” He gave me his password.
“Sure you should have given me your security info?” I said.
He huffed. “I’ll change it when we arrive at the deer lease.”
I peered at the screen and zoomed in to view it closer. How convenient if the handwriting had been Marissa’s. “Nothing familiar.” I’d had enough of gloom talk. “Do you have family?”
“I’ll play hush-the-agent. Wife, two daughters, and three—” Mike glanced into the rearview mirror and swore. “Just like I suspected, we have a tail.”
I swung a look behind us at a pickup gaining speed. It passed us, tossing rocks into the side of Mike’s car, raced ahead, then whirled around and blocked the road. Two men flew open their doors and stood on each side of the truck, both aiming rifles at us.
“Brace yourself.” Mike stomped the brakes and spun into a one-eighty, heading back the way we’d come. Bullets pinged off the trunk of the car. “They must be tracking us. Did you bring both of your phones?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I—”
He cursed again. “Keep the burner and toss the other one.”
I obliged and craned my neck, expecting to see headlights speeding after us. “You think they know where we are because of my phone?”
“Little late now, but we’ll manage.”
I’d heard reassurance in the past, and the words always blew up in my face. The last time Denton, Aaron, and Isaac were nearly killed.
Mike turned off his headlights and drove like a drunk teenager. Every road that turned, he took it. His pattern of losing the pickup swung left and right for the next several minutes. Not once did I see a sign of an oncoming or tailing vehicle. He pulled down a dirt road and cut the engine. After reaching across me to the glove box, he pulled out a gun. I said nothing for fear he’d send me walking. Not that I could blame him. Twenty minutes later he started the car.
“We’re taking the long way to the deer lease.”
