All at once it was over, Daniel releasing his hold and slipping his arm free of Lydia’s grip at the same time, the dead man going limp and falling face-first into the ground, Lydia flying backward and landing hard on her ass.

“You killed him!” She scrambled forward and shoved at Daniel. “What did you do!”

“Shh—”

As she hit at him, slapping his head and shoulders, he caught her wrists and held her off. “He’s alive—Jesus, Lydia, will you relax—”

“He’s dead—”

“No, he’s not.” Daniel pushed her back and rolled the man over. “See for yourself. He’s fucking breathing.”

Lydia wiped her forearm across her eyes. The man—soldier, whatever—was … actually, yes, his chest was going up and down. Slowly, but evenly—and his color was still florid from the struggle.

“You tried to kill him,” she moaned.

“No, I wanted to render him unconscious.” Daniel pointed off in the direction of where she’d parked the hatchback. “Go back and get in your car. He knows where you are—he’s after you.”

“What?”

“He’s here for you.”

Lydia shook her head to clear it. “Wait, how do you know I was being stalked?”

“I don’t have time to explain.” With a vicious yank, he ripped open the front of the black jacket. “And no, I’m not going to kill anybody—I just want to give you a chance to get away.”

With that, he began to pull weapons off the man: Two handguns. A lethal-looking silver-bladed knife. Clips of bullets.

Lydia’s eyes bulged. “This is over for me.” She patted around her pockets for her cell phone. “I’m calling the sheriff—”

“Call the National Guard, I don’t care.” Daniel moved down and patted the pockets of the legs. “Just do it from your fucking car as you drive away from here. Go! Before he wakes up.”

As Lydia took out Daniel’s phone instead of her own, she checked on the man. He was still breathing.

“I don’t know who this is.” Daniel moved down the calves and removed another knife from the left ankle. “But he’s dangerous as hell, unless you’re unfamiliar with what all this metal I’m taking off of him is used for. And if you don’t want me to kill him, you need to get away, now.”

“Come with me,” she blurted. “We can call together—”

“No, I have to stay here and make sure he doesn’t follow you.” Daniel shook his head. “I don’t know what you did or who you called or—shit, anything else. The one thing I’m clear on is that he knows where you are—”

Lydia stood up. “Just leave him here. Let’s go—”

“There’s a tracker. On the bottom of your car.” As Lydia recoiled, Daniel glanced around again. “I found it this morning when I got stuck out on the trail. It’s a magnetic-mounted GPS tracker behind the chassis on the driver’s side. That’s why I think whoever this is is after you. I think he’s following the signal your car is letting out—and yes, I was going to tell you. Now give me my phone back and go. Get safe. Please.”

Lydia pictured the footprints underneath her windows.

So that was what they’d done while they were on the property, she thought. They hadn’t gotten inside; they’d tagged her car.

“You need to come with me,” she asked roughly.

“No, I have to stay here. If he wakes up, we’ve both got a problem, don’t we. Just give me my phone and I’ll be fine. I’m always fine.”

Lydia tossed his cell over and then palmed her own. “I’ll call the sheriff to come get you.”

“I don’t care what the fuck you do. Just as long as it’s from your car and it’s moving. Go—before he regains consciousness. Which is going to be in another minute, maybe less.”

Lydia started to pant, as if she had already begun to run off. “Hold him here. And I’ll go to the sheriff—”

“Don’t tell him we went into that barn. Don’t get me involved with that.”

“Eastwind will be at Peter’s now. He’s who will answer the call the newscaster made.”

“Well, good for them both—like I care? Just please fucking leave. Go!”

“I’m calling the police,” she said as she turned away.

“You have a sheriff, remember,” he tossed back.

On that note, she started to bolt over the springy ground cover. She glanced back only once. Daniel was staring at her as he knelt beside the soldier, a grave expression on his face. Like maybe he was wondering what the fuck he’d gotten himself involved in.

Join the club, she thought.

 

Daniel watched Lydia run off, her footfalls drifting into silence along with the soft rustle of her loose windbreaker. Her car was about five hundred yards away, too far for him to catch the sound of her engine turning over.

So he gave it four minutes. And as he waited, he picked up one of the guns he’d taken from the guard. There was a full magazine in it.

When a groan rose up from the incapacitated man, Daniel sifted through the various weapons and ammo on the ground. Extracting a cylinder from the pile, he attached the hollow tube to the muzzle of the auto-loader by screwing it on.

Double-checking that Lydia hadn’t changed her mind and come back, he listened. Looked around again.

Then he put the suppressor to the other man’s forehead and discharged a single bullet right into the frontal lobe of the brain. No sound from the gun, but the body jerked, the extremities rising for a beat and landing back down in a flop.

Daniel collected all of the weapons, pocketing them. Then he rolled the man over and patted down the back. No ID, no kidding. Cell phone, however, in a rear pocket of the combat pants.

Whoever it was looked more military than law enforcement with all the equipment and the no badge’ing—and that was why Daniel was sure it was a private guard of some sort. But working for who?

Getting to his feet, he tucked the ball cap into his pocket, grabbed a hold under the armpits, and hefted the body up into a fireman’s hold. With careful feet, he made his way deeper into the forest, away from the execution site.

Daniel had no particular plan of where to hide the remains. So he did what he always did. He relied on his environment to provide him with the solution to his needs. And sure enough, as if the forest was happy to lend a hand, a shallow cave appeared and he muscled the body into the dark, dank confines. He was careful not to disturb anything more than absolutely necessary, moving as if he were in the middle of a crime scene.

Ha-ha.

Hey, maybe Lydia was right about his sense of humor.

Nah.

Taking out his cell, he triggered the flashlight. Damp stone walls gleamed, but the dirt on the ground ate up the illumination.

The soldier’s knife was just what he needed.

As Daniel bent over the man’s face, he put his cell in between his teeth so the beam was where he needed it. Then he peeled open the right eye with his thumb and forefinger. The silver blade had a surgical tip to it, and inserting that pointy-pointy into the far corner—

He popped the orb free of its socket, the optic nerve a mess of delicate wiring in the back.