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  And Marie… She had created something that threatened Portman’s way of life, and apparently, there were other people who wanted her dead.

  “Did I hear him right? Is this about a solar panel?” Jake stared at Marie wide-eyed.

  David nodded. “It’s about more than a solar panel. It’s about money.”

  “What do we do now?” Marie’s voice trembled, her face pale.

  “I don’t know.” He had no idea what their next move should be.

  “In the meantime, you’re wanted for kidnapping me.” She slipped the back off Jake’s phone, removed the SIM card and the battery. She wiggled into the front, positioning herself between his legs. She avoided his gaze, concentrating on fastening her backpack.

  “What the hell are you doing?” David asked.

  “I’m stopping them from following Jake. We need to get out of this truck.” She delved into the purple backpack, retrieving a hat and a pair of mittens. Then she zipped her coat up so the collar was snug against her neck.

  David assessed the conditions. Snow whipped across the valley, driven by strong winds, creating whiteout conditions. Walking anywhere in this would be hell even if they were prepared for it, which they weren’t. “I know that was the original plan, but going out in this is suicide. We need better clothing, and we need provisions,” David stated, hoping she would see the logic of his words.

  “You’re right. At least Jake can clear your name and tell the police and the FBI you didn’t kidnap me.” Her voice was steady and strong as she stuffed her bottle of water and some chocolate bars into her bag.

  “I’m sure Jake will drop us off somewhere. Now give him back his phone. He probably can’t afford to replace it.”

  “But what if they trace this?” She passed the pieces to David. “They’ll kill him just like they killed the professor.”

  Thank God, he’d managed to talk her out of taking off. She was tense, her face pale. Undoubtedly it was a shock to discover someone wanted her dead, but these were unusual circumstances. In civilian life, if someone wanted to kill you, it was because they had reason to hate you. This seemed to be a question of greed and control rather than hate.

  He handed the phone and battery to Jake. “Don’t put this back together, buy a new SIM card. Better yet, I’ll keep the SIM card so you won’t be tempted.” He pocketed the small piece of plastic.

  Marie opened the passenger door, allowing a blast of cold air into the warm cab.

  “What the—”

  She jumped out of the truck before he could grab her and walked away.

  “She’s something else.” Jake shook his head. “I can see why you’re taken with her.”

  Taken with her. No. He was frustrated with her. She was the most unpredictable woman he had ever met. He had no idea what she was going to do next.

  He watched her in the side mirror as she marched in the direction of Granite City. They had driven westward for about twenty minutes. It would take her hours on foot to cover the distance they’d traveled so far, but still it was the wrong direction. She bent her head, shielding herself from the battering wind, and within seconds she was out of sight, obliterated by snow. “Listen, I—we need a favor. Call FBI Special Agent Finn Callaghan. He’s in Granite City.”

  “You’re going after her?”

  He shouldn’t. He was in no shape to provide the type of protection she needed, but he couldn’t just let her walk away, not in a storm. “I’m trained to survive, she isn’t. I know this stretch of road, and I can find us shelter. Now, repeat the agent’s name.”

  “Finn Callaghan.”

  “This is for Callaghan’s ears only. Do not leave a message, especially not with the police. Tell him everything you heard Portman say. Tell him that I want to come in, but I can’t go to the police.”

  “I will.”

  “Who are you going to give that message to?”

  “Callaghan.”

  “What are you going to tell your dispatcher?”

  “I’ll just tell him my phone was stolen.”

  “And the police?

  “My phone was stolen.”

  “Good man.”

  Soon the blizzard would hit. Then everything would shut down. Between the driving snow and the relentless wind, traveling would be impossible, not just for them, but also for their pursuers.

  “Do you know how long the storm is predicted to last?” he asked.

  “Overnight. The weather’s supposed to move on by noon tomorrow.”

  He grabbed the purple backpack that held their provisions, gave Jake a final wave. Then he tensed, bracing himself against the blast of icy wind and slipped out of the truck, following Marie.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Finn parked the SUV in front of the small, suburban, ranch-style house that Officer Rick Calder called home. He plucked his phone from his pocket and stared at it, willing it to ring. Whatever cellphone plan the FBI used sucked because his coverage was nonexistent. He could not afford to be unreachable, not if David was trying to phone. Maybe the weather had caused an interruption in service.

  The hammering wind piled snow against the houses on the east side of the street.

  Finn pulled up his collar as he climbed out of the car and strolled up the stone pathway to Officer Calder’s door. By the end of the day, there would be stranded motorists, downed power lines, highway closures and disruptions on all public services. In other words—chaos.

  The overhead door to the attached garage opened, and Calder walked to the back of an SUV parked in the driveway.

  “Rick,” Finn called, making his presence known.

  “I take it you heard?” He didn’t look surprised to see Finn. He opened the trunk of the SUV.

  Finn peeked inside, automatically checking for a weapon. There wasn’t one, just cans of food and bottled water.

  “I just came to see if you were all right.”

  “I’m fine.” He crossed his arms over his chest as he stared at the interior of the vehicle.

  There was something about Calder’s body language that didn’t fit with the video. If Marie Wilson had been taken, he might have been angry, or maybe guilty over the fact she’d been kidnapped while in his custody. His lack of eye contact, the way his lips pressed into a thin line, and his mannerisms suggested he was ashamed.

  “Why don’t you tell me what happened?” Finn said.

  “I pulled a gun on the victim, that’s what happened. They’ll have my badge for this. Being a policeman is all I ever wanted to do, and now…” He grabbed a flat of water from the car, walked through the garage, and placed it on the steps leading to the house.

  If all of Finn’s suspects were as forthright as Officer Calder, then his job would be a lot easier. “Why don’t you start from the beginning? Why did you take Dr. Wilson to the PDE building?”

  “I was just her escort. I was supposed to take her to the airport, but she wanted to see Portman. She said she didn’t have an appointment so she was going to leave a message.” He paced to a woodpile in the corner of the garage.

  Finn followed. “And if she got to see him?

  “I don’t know. I guess I would’ve left her there. I couldn’t hang out all day.”

  “Then what happened?”

  Calder stacked the logs, moving the pile a few feet closer to the door, still not looking Finn in the eye. “We’d reached the door of the building when this guy with a long beard comes flying out. He shoves me. I go flying down the steps. He grabs Dr. Wilson—”

  “Did she seem scared?”

  Rick straightened, his brow crinkling as he recalled the event. “No, but she didn’t want to go. Then this PDE guy with a broken nose starts shooting at them.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, I pulled my gun, but then realized there was a good chance of hitting the victim. I screamed at the guy to stop, but he kept on. I aimed my weapon at him and forced him to relinquish his sidearm.”

  “Sorry, who did you scream at, the guy from PDE or
Quinn?”

  “The PDE guy. His name is Harper.”

  Finn took his notebook out and jotted down the name.

  “By the time I managed to disarm him, Quinn had taken Dr. Wilson and driven away.” Rick waved a log as he talked.

  “Was Harper charged?”

  “I don’t know. I called it in.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Chief Notley arrived. Harper was talking about kidnapping and named Quinn as the perpetrator. The chief took my statement and sent me home. Told me there’d be an enquiry into my conduct.”

  “Notley’s looking into your conduct?” Maybe there was justification, maybe not. To Finn, it sounded like a ruse to keep the young officer out of the picture.

  Calder shrugged. “Yes.”

  “But you didn’t actually shoot at the victim.”

  “No.” He threw the wood into a heap, seeming to have given up on making a neat stack.

  “What kind of vehicle was Quinn driving?”

  “An old black Ford pickup. It was pretty rusted. I gave the chief the plate number. Do you need it?”

  “No, he’ll have dumped it by now.” Finn should contact his head office in Utah and tell them about this development. But he’d wait until he had more than a hunch and the accusation of a wanted man. He needed something concrete if he was going to accuse the chief of the Granite City-Elkhead County Police department of corruption. Warning Finn off didn’t mean anything. Sometimes police got territorial about their cases. It happened, not as much as was portrayed on TV, but it did happen. Had Portman bribed Notley? Finn had probable cause to get a warrant for their financial records, but this was the chief. He would have to tread lightly.

  Calder finally turned and looked Finn in the eye. “Do you think I’ll lose my job?”

  “Not if I can help it. We need honest policemen like you,” Finn said as he backed away, heading to his car. It was snowing hard, and the wind was so strong he had to fight to stand upright. He struggled to close the driver’s door.

  The jazz tune played on his phone. He answered before the jingle finished. “Agent Callaghan.”

  “This is Sinclair. What’s going on?”

  “David’s been accused of kidnapping a scientist.”

  “What? You know he’d never hurt a civilian.”

  For some reason, he found her certainty in her brother reassuring. “What can you tell me about his relationship with Marshall Portman?”

  “Portman? What’s he—”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “Portman rescued us from the street when we were sixteen.”

  “How did David get along at Marshall House?”

  “At first, he didn’t want to be there. He didn’t trust Portman. He said do-gooders always wanted something in return, but you just didn’t know what.”

  “Why’d he go?”

  “I couldn’t live on the street anymore. I had pneumonia. And Tim wanted a future that didn’t involve stealing food.”

  “What about Michael?”

  “He’d already left. He wasn’t like us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We were runaways. We had nowhere else to go. Michael had a home and a family.”

  “Then how’d he end up living on the street?”

  “Michael graduated high school at fifteen. I think he wanted to see the world before heading to university. You know, experience how the other half lived.”

  Finn understood. Michael was the smartest man he had ever met.

  “David never trusted Portman?”

  “I didn’t say that. For some reason, Marshall took an interest in my brother. Gave him books to read and stuff like that. He talked to David, encouraged him to go into the service and get a degree. They grew to be friends. At Least, David considered him a friend.”

  Finn recalled the video of Quinn supposedly kidnapping Marie. He’d talked to David at Christmas dinner. He had been a shadow of his former self. Gone was the vibrant man of action. The new David was quiet and withdrawn. He’d worn a long shaggy beard and had been pale with dark circles under his eyes. The only time he’d shown any enthusiasm was when he talked about his bees. “He looks haggard and disheveled. How’s he been since he left the army?”

  “Not good. Something happened that forced him to leave.”

  “He never mentioned anything. What happened?” Finn asked.

  “I don’t know. I asked, but he said it was classified.”

  “He was Special Forces. His sneezes were classified.”

  “He doesn’t sleep.”

  Damn. Sleep deprivation was known to impair cognitive function, and mess with a person’s ability to make decisions.

  “He was drinking, but that stopped about six months ago,” Sinclair added.

  “What changed?”

  “I told him he had to straighten himself out and get help. I threatened to kick his butt, and I reminded him of all the drunks we’d known when we were on the street. I don’t know if that’s why he turned things around, or if there were other factors, but he seemed to get better. He purchased some beehives and got into beekeeping in a big way. Talked about planting wildflowers and clover.”

  “Yeah, he mentioned the bees.”

  “He said they were peaceful and were helping him. Anyway, he had a business plan. Apparently, there’s a market for honey products, and renting beehives out for pollination is big business.”

  “He was organized?”

  “Yes, as far as I can tell the only thing he doesn’t have is a house to live in.”

  “You mentioned a camper.”

  “It’s about thirty years old, with no washroom or shower. David named it the Shithole.”

  “Delightful. Do you think he’s mentally unstable?”

  “No. Are you sure he kidnapped this scientist?”

  “No.”

  “What has this got to do with Portman?”

  He ignored her question. He didn’t have any answers, and even if he did, he couldn’t discuss the details of an ongoing investigation. “Where are you now? I may need you to help negotiate with David.”

  “I’m in Washington DC. All the flights to Granite City are canceled due to the blizzard, so I’m flying into Billings and renting an all-wheel-drive from there. I should arrive by tomorrow morning.”

  “Okay, call me when you get here.”

  “I will, and Finn…”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll want some answers by tomorrow.” She hung up.

  This kidnapping was not premeditated, at least not on David’s part. None of this made sense. The man Finn knew was disciplined, loyal, and honest, but he was also a man in crisis. Up to six months ago, Quinn had been drinking, and his sister said he had insomnia. These were points that called into question his mental stability.

  But whatever his psychological state, he had rescued Dr. Wilson from a home invasion and had brought her to see Finn. That was a fact, so whether he was having difficulties or not, something was still going on. His gut told him that Portman had chief Notley on the payroll, but it wasn’t enough. All he had was Quinn’s word. He needed proof.

  He dialed Kennedy. She picked up on the first ring. “Where are you?”

  “Heading back. You?”

  “I’m at the office. The roads are getting nasty.”

  “I’m only a few blocks away. I’ll be there soon. How did it go at the airport?”

  “You’ll never believe this, but the security cameras were out.”

  “What?”

  “I know. Granite City is a small airport, but they have international flights. You’d think in these times of terrorism and drug smuggling they’d make sure their cameras were working. It’s basic stuff.”

  “I doubt it’s a coincidence.”

  “Good luck proving that.”

  Finn closed his eyes as he imagined what David would do when faced with an enemy like Marshall Portman. Where would he go? He was a trained Green Beret. He probably knew
how to survive anywhere, in any conditions, and they were in Montana. There were forests and mountains. These were places where a survival specialist could hide indefinitely, but what about Marie Wilson? She didn’t strike him as particularly athletic. He doubted she could survive outside in a blizzard. Wherever Quinn and Wilson were, he hoped they’d found a warm place where they could shelter the storm.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Marie had never been so miserable in her life. By her estimate, they had been marching for twenty minutes, wading through piles of shifting snow. David had directed them into some sort of valley. A line of trees lay to her left, protecting them from the merciless wind. Occasionally an errant gust would cause ice pellets to hammer her skin like shards of glass. Her cheeks and nose prickled with pain. She curled her free hand into a fist inside her mitt in order to protect her fingers.

  She prayed David wouldn’t release his grip on her hand. If he did, she would never find him again. He seemed to know where he was going as if guided by some inner compass.

  He yanked on her hand, altering their direction so the bursts of wind hit the back of her neck. She tugged at her collar and hunched her shoulders in a futile attempt to shield her skin.

  He pushed her against the eave of a building. How he’d known it was there was a mystery. A white swirl of snow had obliterated it from view. She’d been oblivious of its existence until her back touched the wall. To her right was a door, and to her left a window. From what little she could see, she guessed this was the back of a house, and they were at the kitchen door.

  “If there’s no one home, I’ll break in,” David shouted, straining to be heard above the roar of the storm.

  He pummeled on the door. When there was no response, he drew a combat knife from a holster on his ankle and used it to attack the lock.

  In any other circumstances, she might be surprised by the knife, or even by the break-in, but right now none of that mattered. If they didn’t get inside, they would perish. That was all there was to it.