Terror Stash (32 page)

She pulled the two overnights bags down from the overhead bins and climbed off. The bus pulled away, leaving them standing there, but as soon as the taillights had dimmed, Caden took a bag from her and scrambled down the ditch, heading into the forest.

“Did you get any sleep?” he asked.

“A little. Adrenaline will keep me going a while yet,” she assured him. “We’re cutting across to Steve’s farmhouse?”

“He finished his shift at eleven. We can get your car, my boots, swing over and pick up my gear and then....” He was silent for a few steps.

“What?”

“I don’t like to plan too far ahead. There are too many variables.”

“Let’s just get to Steve’s then. I wouldn’t mind a decent coffee.” She slung the straps of her carry bag over her shoulders, turning it into a makeshift backpack. It was about six miles to Steve’s from here. She mentally shrugged. It would be good exercise. It would also keep her awake.

* * * * *

Steve’s converted farmhouse sat in the middle of what were once tended farmer’s fields, but were now being reclaimed by the forest. It was five a.m. and fully light when they stopped at the edge of the tree line, peering at the farmhouse. Montana stretched her back and rolled her neck. Caden was still, staring ahead with focused intensity.

“I don’t like it,” he said at last.

Alerted, she studied the house. “His car is gone.”

Caden nodded a little. “The house doesn’t feel slept in.”

Montana considered that a moment. “Before you hauled me off my feet in the forest the other day, I ran on gut instinct for two whole days and the only time I got into trouble was when I didn’t listen to my instincts. I say we go with your gut.”

“Let’s circle it, see what we see.”

It took forty minutes to make a great loop around the house and establish that no one else hovered nearby. Caden lingered over tire tracks in the rough track that served as access to the house from the nearest official road. “Your big gas guzzler,” he said, pointing to the heavy tread marks of her four-wheel drive. “Steve’s Holden. These are strange and cross over the top of both sets.”

“Someone has been here since Steve left.”

He rubbed his chin. “I’m glad, now, we parked your car in that falling down barn.”

“It’s a shearing shed.”

“That explains the aroma.” He crossed over the track, back into the trees again. “Let’s not go into the house.”

“Gut, again?”

“Screaming at me, yeah.”

They worked their way back to the overgrown, barely visible track. It led to the dilapidated shed, tucked away amongst the trees, where Steve had suggested Montana park her car while they headed into the forest after Ghenghis Bob. The shed provided shelter from the rain and the sun. Sun damage to a car’s interior upholstery was a genuine problem in Australia, where the sun beat down from almost directly overhead throughout most of the summer. Despite the dusty scent of sheep manure, Montana had been pleased to accept the offer.

The shed
did
look like it was falling down—there was an acute lean to the walls, and the roof bowed sharply in the middle. The wood was warped and green with moss and mold on the lee side, and was cracked and flaking on the north side. Only a four-wheel drive vehicle could reach it anymore. She’d had to maneuver through the skewed doorway with care and had scraped the running board on the way through. They’d struggled to shut the doors, fighting against rusting hinges.

It was likely that whoever had visited Steve’s house had either missed the shed or dismissed it. But Caden still circled the building, examining the ground around it and the building itself minutely.

Montana didn’t rush him. Her own gut was starting to hammer at her now.

Finally, Caden approached the doors of the shed and hauled on one of them, forcing it open just enough for them to slip inside.

The black paintwork of her car glinted in the chink of light from the open door. Deep relief speared her and she opened the driver’s door to look inside. Steve had returned all their belongings to the car, including her handbag with its precious money, credit cards and more.

Caden opened the passenger door. “All here.” He picked up his Rolex and slid it on and pushed his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. He hefted the big knife that he’d been forced to leave behind, then stripped off the sweatshirt and began threading the knife onto his belt.

Montana forced herself to ignore the gleam of Caden’s bare shoulders and chest in the low light. “It’s good to be a real person again,” she said, digging through the contents of her bag.

“You’ll have to learn how to get by without all that crap,” Caden told her. “You’ve just been conditioned into thinking it’s essential.”

“It would have helped us a lot the last twenty-four hours.”

“We managed fine without it. Cash will get you anywhere.”

She made a face at him and pulled out her cell phone and checked it. “Fifteen calls!” She scrolled through the Caller ID screen. “My god!”

“What?”

“I know this number. They’re all Nelson.”

“All?”

“No, wait. This one is a text message...from
0426-234-044
. Isn’t that Steve’s cell phone?”

“Yes.”

She selected the call and the text screen popped up.
Ligurio
.

“Ligurio?” she repeated aloud.

The cell phone began to ring and vibrate in her hand and she nearly dropped it. Caden leaned against the top sill of the door, watching her through the car. She glanced at the caller ID. “Nelson, again.” She looked at him in question.

“If you don’t stay on long, they can’t trace back through the satellite. If he’s asking lots of questions, you know he’s trying to keep you on.”

“Easier not to answer.”

“Answer it. We may learn something that’ll help us. If you don’t answer, we can’t learn. Let’s play the odds.”

She answered the phone. “Nelson?”

“Jesus Christ!” Nelson took a gasping, shocked breath. “I’d got used to the idea you’d never answer the damn thing. Have you checked your voicemail?”

“No.”

“Then, well, I guess I’m going to have to do it right over the phone.”

“Do what, Nelson? Fire me? I figured that was coming.”

“Good lord, why would I want to fire you?” He sounded genuinely shocked.

“Excuse me?” She rubbed between her brows. “Why have you been phoning me so often, then?”

“Because, oh dear, because your friend Steve Scarborough. Montana, there was a police report filed on him. He’s missing, presumed dead.”

She pressed her temple, as her heart went cold and her head tried to explode. “That’s not possible.” Her throat scraped painfully over the words.

She felt Caden climb into the passenger seat, moving closer, as she leaned onto the seat, propping herself up. She didn’t have the energy to stand by herself.

“The report says they have reason to believe he fell off the cliffs south of the river mouth. It doesn’t say why, only that they’re investigating the matter. It’s a police report, Montana. You know how it goes.”

There was a dry note to his tone that made Montana reply: “You said ‘
They say.’
You don’t believe it, do you?”

Nelson sighed. “So close on the heels of the story you told me yesterday? You were right, Montana. I’d already sentenced you before you opened your mouth. But this... I’m not going to ask where you are and I’m going to hang up in less than a minute, but I wanted to make sure you knew this. I believe you’re mixed up in something. Whether it’s what you think or not doesn’t matter. You have to be careful now, especially if you’re where I think you are. Be careful, but do what you must.”

“Help us,” she said instantly.

“I can’t.” He hesitated. “I only have my career. I have to hold onto it.”

No click sounded when he hung up. There was no warning. Just silence. Then, a second later, the monotonous dial tone.

Montana dropped the phone and covered her eyes.

“It’s Steve,” Caden said.

She nodded.

“Dead?” he asked softly.

“I got him killed.” The words pushed out of her. “I killed him.” She pressed the ends of her fingers into her temples, trying to squeeze harder and harder against the pain exploding there.

Abruptly, she was hauled by her arms up into the car, up until her head knocked against the roof, then her knees were slammed onto the seat, the car keys digging painfully into a kneecap. But she barely noticed the pain, for Caden’s black eyes were inches from her and radiated fury. His hands were wrapped around her upper arms, squeezing hard.

“
It was
not
your fault
. You hear me?”

“But he’s dead! He wouldn’t be if he—”

Caden shook her, not gently, and her teeth clattered together, clipping her tongue and bringing tears to her eyes. Then his eyes were boring into her again. “Yes, he’s dead, but if you want to blame someone for it, you blame the fuckers that killed him. He made his own choices, Montana. You didn’t force him into anything and you damn well know it.” He gave her another shake. “Now, do I have to slap you around like a hysterical little girl, or are you going to snap out of this?”

The tears surged then, each of them hot hard bullets of pain that oozed from her eyes. Her vision swam. Caden’s grip on her arms loosened and he pulled her into his arms, properly, to hold her. She was wrapped in warm flesh and enveloped in his scent. His hand buried in her hair. “That’s better.” His voice was rough.

“No, it’s not,” she said, forcing the words past the spiked, burning lump in her chest and throat. “It hurts.”

“Yes, it does,” he agreed. “It’s supposed to.” He push hair away from her face. “It tells you you’re still human. When it doesn’t hurt any more you’ll know you’ve become a monster.”

“Is this the price people get to pay for trying to change things? How can I ever call on friendship for anything if it might lead to this?”

“It doesn’t always demand this price.”

“But how do you know?”

“You don’t. All you can do is the best you can with the time you have.”

She shook her head. “I’ve achieved nothing and Steve is dead. I was better off as a non-person, hiding in my cubicle at the consulate.”

Caden was silent for long moments. When he spoke, he sounded amazed. “
You don’t admire Nicollo because she changed the world. You admire her because she changed her world and didn’t have to confront anyone to do it. You think she did it behind the scenes and didn’t have to risk anything.”

Montana blinked away the acid tears so she could see him properly. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, but she couldn’t. Even though she hadn’t known this about herself until this moment, she was honest enough to acknowledge the truth.

Caden shook his head. “You can’t go through life that way. It’s not living, Montana. It’s nothing. It’s avoiding life.”

“I know. I’m a coward,” she confessed. “I always have been.”

“No, you’re not. I don’t know what you are, but you’re not a coward.” He said it with complete certainty. “Steve didn’t think you were, either.”

The mention of his name speared her chest and her vision swam as new tears gathered, stinging.

Caden’s arms tightened. “Hey,” he said, so softly that she could barely hear him. She looked up, trying to blink away the moisture. His hand cupped her face. “Three days ago, you’d have sooner shoved Bob’s knife in my gullet than let yourself cry in front of me.”

“Hell, yeah.” It was a croak.

“You’re not afraid of me anymore.” It was a statement.

She shook her head slowly, as she explored her own feelings. “No, I’m not.” She smiled a little. “I guess I can change my spots, after all.”

He kissed her, and it was a warm, caring, soft expression of thanks and a pleasure devoid of sexual meaning. It contained everything he couldn’t or wouldn’t speak of.

Montana curled her hand around the nape of his neck. “You’re a complex man, Caden Rawn. You keep surprising me.”

“Good.” It was a rough growl.

“I thought you
liked
keeping people afraid of you.”

He hesitated. “Except you,” he said, at last. Then he looked away.

His telling movement made her eyes widen. “You mean there is no one else in the world that you trust?”

“Trust? Sure. I trusted Steve immediately. There’s others. Not many. But enough.”

“You know what I mean,” she said softly.

This time, he picked her up and dumped her gently on the driver’s seat. “We need to get going,” he said. “We’ll take care of whoever took care of Steve later, okay?”

Montana hitched up her hip and picked up the car keys and swiveled to face the steering wheel. Her heart was racing, as if she had come very close to an abyss and only just managed to pull herself back from the brink.

She
wiped her eyes and took Caden’s cue. “They made it look like he’d fallen over the cliffs. Steve couldn’t swim. How many people would know that?”

“Not many,” Caden said slowly. “But his employers would.”

“The police are in on this?” She was appalled.

“Probably not all of them but it would explain how they managed to stay undetected for so long. The police were protecting them, covering up for them.” Caden rested his head against the headrest for a moment.

She wiped uselessly at her eyes again. “If they know about Steve...”

“But how?” Caden swiveled in his seat. “No one saw us in the caves or saw us come out of them. We were just three people walking along the beach.”

“It doesn’t matter for right now,” she said. “They knew about Steve, somehow. We have to assume they know about us, too.” She climbed up into her seat. “We get your gear, we pick a spot on the map that has no connection to either of us and we leave town. We need breathing room, Caden. We need to marshal strength and get information.”

“Are you okay to drive?” he asked.

“I’ll manage.” She backed out of the shed, pushing the doors open with the tailgate of the car, then turned it around to face the path to the gate. “Where to?” she asked him.