Sharon Sala - Going Twice

After a half hour at a steady pace she lost focus on everything but the run: feeling the blood surge through her veins, the expansion of her lungs as she breathed in and out, the burn of muscles as time continued to pass, testing her endurance.

She was bathed in sweat and still running when the sun went down, and then she ran all the way out of the park and back to her building before she finally stopped. In an effort to cool down she took the stairs up to her third-floor apartment rather than take the elevator, but even as she went inside she felt as much panic now as when she’d first left.

Her FBI training kicked in as she measured the pros and cons of what she was going to face, and came to one simple conclusion. There was no way to outrun the past.

* * *

Cameron arrived at the hotel in Tulsa before noon the next day and left his rental car’s keys with valet parking.

He shouldered his luggage and headed for the elevator, bypassing the front desk as he went. When he knocked on the door, Wade let him in. He could tell by the look on Wade’s face something more had happened.

“Don’t look so glad to see me,” Cameron said.

“Sorry,” Wade said. “We’ve been looking at security tapes all morning. I’m glad you’re here. Did you have any trouble on the road?”

“Not a bit,” Cameron said. “Where’s Tate?”

“There’s a small conference room attached to the suite. He’s in there. That door leads to a bedroom with two beds. You’re with me.”

Cameron dumped his things in the bedroom and then followed the sound of voices into the conference room. It had a long table, a half-dozen chairs and a small sink and counter at one end of the room. He saw a bucket of ice, some soft drinks and a couple of uneaten doughnuts under a plastic cover. He made himself a cold drink, grabbed a doughnut and then moved toward the computer screens set up at one end of the table.

“Glad to have you back,” Tate said as Cameron walked up behind him.

“Good to be here. What’s going on?”

Wade pointed to the photos spread out across the table as Tate hit Pause and stopped the security footage.

“We had a visit from Inman,” Wade said.

Cameron jerked, almost spilling his drink.

“Here? He came here?”

“Long enough to drop those off,” Tate said. “Those were taken of us at one of the kill sites yesterday morning. We got him on the hotel security cameras paying a bellhop to bring them to the front desk that afternoon. The cameras caught him coming to the front door and leaving around back, but we didn’t get a look at what he was driving. So we confiscated video from as many businesses in the immediate area as we could get in the hopes of spotting him in one of the vehicles passing by. No luck so far.”

“Wow,” Cameron said. “He’s right under our noses again, and we still can’t get our hands on him.”

“Yes, and once again the media is having a field day with that,” Wade grumbled.

Cameron knew how he felt. They’d been making excuses for a year as to how he got away.

Tate’s phone signaled an incoming text.

“The Director sent us an email,” he said, and went to get his laptop. He pulled up the message, then read it aloud.

“I’m adding Agent Jolene Luckett to your team. She’s been studying all the files for the past two days. Use her as you see fit. If you’re planning to move locations, wait for her before you leave. She arrives tomorrow at 10:30 a.m. at Tulsa International Airport.”

Tate had gone numb right after the first sentence, and was trying to figure out what possessed the Director to do something like this. Granted Jo was a whiz at tracking down people through the internet, but Wade didn’t deserve this.

Tate wouldn’t look at Wade, and he could see Cameron doing the same as he went to refill his soft drink.

Wade took a deep breath, walked to the windows and shoved his hands in his pockets. He had an overwhelming urge to hit something.

“I never knew the Director had such a sense of humor,” he drawled. “I can handle working with my ex-wife. Either one of you have a problem with it?”

“Not me,” Tate muttered.

“I’m good,” Cameron added.

“Fine. Then that settles that,” Wade said. “I hope the Director knows he’s just upped the team’s traveling costs. She doesn’t snore, but I’m damn sure not sharing a room with her.”

Tate laughed and Cameron grinned.

Wade grinned, but inside he was screaming. There was no way in hell this was going to work. And at the same time he thought that, he wondered what her reaction had been when she got her orders. He would lay odds she wasn’t any happier about this than he was. Still, if she didn’t make waves, he wouldn’t, either.

“So what are we doing for dinner?” Cameron asked.

Wade turned around. “I don’t know about you, but I think after that piece of news, the Director just bought us some fine dining.”

Tate was inclined to agree. “I say we check out the hotel restaurant.”

“Do we need a reservation?” Cameron asked.

“I’ll find out,” Tate said.

Wade heard them talking, but the words were all running together. Except for seeing her a few weeks ago at the cemetery, he hadn’t come face-to-face with her in over a year and a half. She was so angry, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why she was angry with him. He hadn’t shot her, nor was he responsible for the death of the baby she’d been carrying. He’d never been so scared, never prayed as hard as he had that day. Losing the baby had been terrible. But losing her would have been unthinkable. Or so he thought, until she turned into someone he didn’t know and walked away. He had yet to wrap his head around why. Hell, maybe working with her would be good after all. Maybe he would finally get some long-overdue answers.

* * *

Jo had already packed except for the small stuff. Now all she had to do was run a few errands and catch a very early flight tomorrow. According to her info, one of the team would pick her up at the airport. She hoped to God they didn’t send Wade. She didn’t want one-on-one time with him right off the bat.

The more she thought about what she was going to be doing, the more anxious she got. She’d been gone for almost a week on another case and home only two days when she’d gotten this call. There were bills due, a prescription to get refilled, some toilet articles to replace, before she headed out again. Unfortunately there was nothing she could buy to protect her from the inevitable gut reaction to seeing Wade. It was such a bitch still being in love with the man she’d divorced. This wasn’t the first time she’d second-guessed her reason for doing it, but she had been slightly insane from her guilt and grief at the time, and it was too late to explain all that now.

She sighed. Whatever would be, would be. Either they would get through it or they would wind up killing each other. One way or another, this day had been a long time coming.

* * *

It had been five days, maybe six, since this killing spree began. Hershel had actually lost count, but it didn’t matter. He felt safe and sheltered at the campground at Keystone Lake.

The first thing he did after he woke up that morning was turn on the laptop to see what was happening, and the first thing he saw was his own picture. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it on-air, because it was being aired daily in conjunction with the murders, and he feared it was only a matter of time before someone took a closer look at him camping out here.

He’d spent over an hour last night watching the Weather Channel, trying to second-guess where the next serious storm threat might hit. There were a couple of places he could go and wait for it, but he couldn’t go home—not ever again. Once he would have just grown a beard, changed cars and locations, and disappeared under another name like he’d done after the Louisiana floods. But he had healed with severe facial scars, and the ability to grow a full, healthy beard was gone. He could always go to Mexico and disappear, but that felt too much like running away. If he did that, it would mean they’d won, and that didn’t set well.