Tracked Through the Woods, page 10
“No, I wouldn’t.” He hesitated, then said, “My dad was an FBI agent, too. His father, my grandfather, was a cop. We have a long-standing history of working for the good guys. I guess that’s a big part of the reason I was so upset to be accused of being dirty. As if I’d betrayed your father by ratting him out to the Mancheses.”
“I don’t blame you.” She could only imagine how difficult that would be. “What does your father think?”
“He died last year of a heart attack.” Wyatt sighed. “My mother is seeing someone new, and I’m happy for her. I miss my father’s wise counsel, but honestly, I’m glad he’s not here to see this. My reputation being put in question would have been difficult for him.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. My mom died without me ever getting to know her.” She thought of Rachel, who hadn’t had the benefit of growing up with her father, either. “Sometimes it’s hard to understand why we lose the people we love. I guess we need to trust in God’s plan.”
“We do, but we are also human.” He shrugged. “Saying the words is easy, the hard part is to open your heart while listening to God’s word. And having faith that He knows what is best for us.”
She eyed him curiously. “You really believe that.”
“Yes.” His simple answer was touching. “I’ve been leaning on my faith since the night your father was almost killed. That’s when I knew that something was rotten in the organized crime division of the FBI.”
“And you set out to make things right,” she reminded him.
“I hope I can.” For the first time, he didn’t speak with his usual confidence.
“You will.” She tried to settle back in her seat, but it wasn’t easy to relax. Even though they didn’t have the tracker on their car, she worried the bad guys were still back there, following them.
Taking the detour to Chicago’s O’Hare airport would help. Wyatt chose to travel the back highways northwest to the large international airport. When they reached the travel hub, he headed to the long-term parking lot.
Her muscles tensed as he drove up and down each row, carefully searching for a suitable license plate. After a few minutes, he pulled into an empty spot.
“Wait here.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a pocketknife. He opened it to reveal a screwdriver attachment. “This won’t take long.”
“Okay.” She glanced around, taking note of the several security cameras dotting the lot. Wyatt must have noticed them, too, because he’d chosen a location halfway between the cameras. And he’d parked alongside a boxy van.
Hopefully, by the time the bad guys viewed the video footage, they’d have enough to bring them down.
Although she was worried, deep in her gut, that they would never find the proof they so desperately needed. Her father may have some insight to share, but did he have enough to point directly at Wyatt’s boss, Ethan Hawthorne?
Probably not.
The license plate swap did not take long. Wyatt returned to the driver’s seat and started the engine. “This should buy us some time. Once we get to Green Lake, we may be able to obtain a different vehicle.”
“I hope so.” Even with the incognito license plate, she again found it difficult to relax. As Wyatt headed north to the interstate that would take them to Wisconsin, she glanced over her shoulder at the traffic behind them, half expecting either the bad guys to show up, or the police to pull them over for stealing.
By the time they reached the Wisconsin state line, she was able to relax. They’d have a better chance of getting the state trooper or other local police to listen to their side of the story. And they could use Liam and Garrett’s names as law enforcement references if needed.
When Wyatt got off the interstate, she frowned. “What are you doing? This takes us all the way to Green Lake.”
“I know, but if we’re going to head back to the burned remains of the farmhouse, it’s better to approach from a different direction.” He glanced at her. “My plan is to head up the west side of the state, then turn back toward the center.”
Abby swallowed a groan. His proposed path would take far longer than going direct. “Okay. But we may need to grab something to eat from a fast-food restaurant. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m hungry.”
“Running from bad guys takes a lot of energy, so I can totally relate,” he said wryly. “We’ll grab something, soon.”
She stared out the window, thinking back to everything they’d been through. Despite all the close calls of nearly being caught by the guys stationed outside the law office, her mind kept returning to Wyatt’s kiss.
He’d mentioned his parents, but not a woman. Because he didn’t have someone special in his life? Or because he hadn’t bothered to mention her?
A little late to be thinking about the possibility that she’d kissed a man who was in a relationship. Although it would be better to know now, than later. “You live alone?”
“Yes.” He shot her a look of surprise, then understanding dawned. “I’m not married, engaged or in a relationship. At least, not anymore. I had a fiancée, but she wanted me to give up my career. I was going to do that for her, but then the Marchese crime family case began to heat up, and your father called and wanted to help provide information, so I stayed.” He grimaced. “Emma didn’t take it well. In hindsight, it was the right decision for her to move on. I have a feeling our relationship wouldn’t have lasted, anyway.”
“Really? Why not?”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Emma looked for happiness in the wrong places. Everything I tried to do for her wasn’t good enough. I think she thought getting married would make her happy, but her lack of happiness came from within her, not from me.” He waved a hand impatiently. “I’m not explaining this well, but the truth is, my former fiancée was looking for something I couldn’t give her. Something she had to discover within herself.”
Her heart ached for him at the same time she was deeply relieved he wasn’t involved with Emma any longer. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“I’m not.” He flashed a smile. “It was all part of God’s plan, remember?”
She couldn’t help smiling back. “Very true.” Her mood turned serious. “I’m grateful God brought you here, Wyatt. I know I didn’t trust you at first, and I’m sorry I tossed that log at you. I know I wouldn’t have made it this long without your help.”
“You’re a smart woman. I have no doubt you’d have done fine flying under the radar.” He reached over to take her hand. “We’ll get through this, Abby. You’ll see.”
“I know we will.” She felt a renewed sense of hope. Swapping the license plates had worked so far. She was confident they’d get to the farmhouse on Duncan Lane without the bad guys finding them.
Wyatt drove into the parking lot of a local fast-food restaurant. “We should head inside to use the facilities and place our order.”
“Agree.” She didn’t mind having the opportunity to stretch her legs. They’d been in a car for what seemed like forever.
Soon they were seated at a small table near the doorway. This time, she reached for his hand.
“I’d like to say grace,” she whispered, conscious of the other patrons in the restaurant. She lowered her head and said, “Dear Lord, we thank You for this food and for the way You have graciously kept us safe in Your care. Amen.”
“Amen,” Wyatt echoed. He held her hand for a long moment, until she met his gaze. “That was beautiful, Abby.”
She blushed. “I only reiterated what I learned from you.”
He surprised her by lifting her hand and brushing a chaste kiss across her knuckles. “God is always listening,” he murmured before releasing her.
Her skin tingled from his touch. She popped a French fry into her mouth as a distraction. “How far away are we from Green Lake?”
“Less than an hour.” He dug into his meal with gusto. “I noticed dark clouds moving in, though, so we should expect rain at some point later this evening.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I hope it holds off until after we check the farmhouse.”
“Me, too.”
Eating their meals didn’t take long. Back on the road, she took a moment to study the landmarks, in case she needed to come this way, again.
After an hour, Wyatt pulled off the road, parking beneath several large trees with leaves a dazzling yellow color. “We’ll walk from here.”
“Okay.” She wasn’t about to complain. The air was heavy with moisture as they cut through a large field to approach the house from the back. The overgrown weeds proved no one had farmed the acreage recently.
Soon the charred walls of the farmhouse came into view. Wyatt put a hand on her arm, drawing her to a crouch. He didn’t say anything but she understood he wanted to watch the area before getting too close.
As she knelt there, she lifted her heart in prayer. Please, Lord, please help us find my dad!
* * *
Wyatt didn’t see any sign of recent activity near the farmhouse, but he waited anyway, determined not to be drawn into a trap.
The near miss outside the Dettmer office building still haunted him. He almost considered calling his partner, Allan, for additional help. It was only his concern that Allan wouldn’t believe their boss was dirty that had held him back from making the call.
Soon, though, he may not have a choice. He’d have to trust someone within the Chicago office. But not yet.
He really wanted to find Abby’s father first.
They stayed hidden in the weeds for another few minutes before he took Abby’s hand and rose to his feet. “Slowly,” he cautioned as they began their approach.
She nodded without saying anything. He gave her credit for not rushing forward in her haste to locate her father. If the situation were reversed, he’d have found it difficult to wait as patiently as she had.
He listened intently as the crossed the field. The jagged edges of the walls looked the same as the last time he’d seen them.
“This way,” he whispered, lightly steering her to the right, so they could head around the building to reach the front. He paused at the corner, though, and took a moment to make sure there weren’t any vehicles in the driveway.
He didn’t see anything, or anyone. Which was both good and bad.
How was Peter Miller traveling? On foot? Motorcycle? Car?
There was no way to know for sure. If Abby’s dad was on foot, though, he could very well be hiding someplace nearby.
Or he may have already moved on to another place.
The thought of Abby’s father watching from afar made him pause. Peter wouldn’t know he could trust Wyatt, the way Abby did. If her father saw the two of them together, he may just remain out of sight.
“You should go first,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll stay here.”
She shot him a questioning look. “Are you sure?”
No, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t like the idea of putting her in danger. “Yeah, but don’t go too far down the driveway toward the road. We haven’t been able to clear it.”
“Okay.” She waited a beat, then stood and made her way around the corner. Wyatt rested his hand on his weapon, watching for any sign of movement, either from the bad guys or from Abby’s father.
Hopefully, Abby’s father. He had no idea where they’d go next if they didn’t find him here.
Abby’s progress was slow as she carefully stepped through the ruins. She sent several glances toward the driveway, as if expecting the bad guys to come flying up toward the house, guns blazing. After several minutes, she seemed to focus her attention on what was left of the farmhouse.
When she disappeared from his line of sight, though, he panicked. Rather than calling out to her, he eased around the corner to get a better view.
And when he still couldn’t hear her, he ground his teeth together and made his way closer still. There was a gaping hole where the front door would have been located, so he assumed she went inside.
Most of the roof was missing, so lumber falling on her head wasn’t a risk, but the walls were half gone. As if on cue, the wind picked up, bringing more dark clouds overhead.
He wanted to trust her instincts, but didn’t like the idea of Abby poking around and exploring too far inside the remains, especially considering the dim lighting. He edged closer to the open doorway, glancing once more over his shoulder to see if anyone else was around.
The fact that Abby’s father hadn’t shown up yet made him worry they’d missed him. Or maybe he’d never been there at all.
He’d stressed that Abby should remain positive, but he knew there was a chance her father had already been taken out of the picture.
Glancing down, he noticed there were soft spots on the wooden porch, evidence of wood rotting from beneath. He stayed close to the more solid edges as he made his way through the opening, wrinkling his nose at the scent of charred wood intermingled with smoke.
“Abby?”
“I’m okay, but you might want to stay back. The floor is not in good shape.”
“No kidding, which means you shouldn’t be in here, either.” He halted his progress, knowing he weighed far more than she did. “Find anything?”
“Not yet.”
Based on the condition of the floor, Wyatt didn’t think it likely that Abby’s father would have risked coming inside. He was about to tell Abby that, urging her to come back, when he heard a creaking noise.
“No!” Abby cried out as he heard a thudding sound.
“Abby? What happened? Where are you?” He peered through the blackened walls.
“I’m okay, just broke through the floor.” Her voice sounded strained, as if she might be injured.
“Where are you?” He tested the floor with one foot before moving forward.
“Hold on, I’m okay.” He heard scuffling sounds. “Thankfully, I didn’t fall all the way through to the basement.”
He drew in a harsh breath, but then let it out slowly. Yelling wouldn’t do any good. “You need to make your way back here, Abby. Don’t go any further.”
“Okay, I won’t.”
He still wasn’t satisfied and took another step into the room. Then one more. Imagining the open basement below them wasn’t at all reassuring. But he couldn’t just leave her to manage on her own, either. “Abby, listen, you might want to crawl out on your hands and knees. That will distribute your weight over a larger area. It may help prevent you from falling through another rotten part of the floor.”
“I will, but you need to stay back, Wyatt. It won’t help me if you fall through, too.”
Staying back wasn’t easy, but he forced himself to do just that. After a few minutes he heard her gasp.
“What is it?”
“My dad was here, Wyatt. And recently.”
He frowned. “How do you know?”
“Someone used charcoal from the charred wood to write the word safe on the bedroom wall.”
“How do you know that your father wrote that?” He wished he could see it for himself.
“I know he did.” She sounded breathless now, as if she’d run a marathon. “This was my bedroom when we stayed here all those years ago. I think he came here looking for me. And when I wasn’t here, he left a message only I would find.”
He wanted to believe her, but it seemed strange that her father would only write one word.
Safe.
Did that mean he was safe? Or that he should keep Abby safe? Maybe both?
Either way, twenty-four hours had passed and they were still no closer to finding him.
TEN
“We need to get out of here, before you fall through more rotted flooring.”
She knew Wyatt was right, but was reluctant to leave. Her dad had been in these ruins. He’d written the word safe. She lightly touched the wall where the word had been scrawled, as if she could connect with her father. Then she scanned the area, searching for more clues that he may have left for her.
There was nothing. If her dad had time to write the word safe, why hadn’t he written more?
Because he’d feared that he’d been followed?
A chill snaked down her spine.
“Abby?” Wyatt sounded impatient.
“Coming.” Suppressing a sigh, she retraced her steps to the main area. She gave the area where she’d fallen through a wide berth, testing the flooring before moving forward. Her ankle and knee throbbed a bit from her partial fall but she ignored the pain.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Right behind you.” With Wyatt preceding her, they made their way carefully around the burned wreckage, the word safe embedded in her mind.
Abby knew her father had written the note, but she wished he’d added more clarity. She felt certain he had been telling her that he was safe, but why hadn’t he given her an indication of where he was? Or even better, call her on their disposable phones?
Even if he’d lost his old phone, they’d always made it a practice to memorize the numbers so they could simply get a replacement. But her dad hadn’t done that. Or if he had, he hadn’t reached out to her. Which was highly unusual.
Wyatt paused near a trio of trees sporting colorful leaves. “I guess it’s good to know your father was here.”
“Yes, but we still don’t know where he is now.” She huddled beside him, chilled by the wind. “I have no idea where to search next. This farmhouse was our first safehouse after leaving the Amish. The cabin in the woods, where you found me, was our second.” As soon as she said the words, an idea formed in her mind. “Wait a minute, we need to check the abandoned cabin where the Marchese men had stashed Rachel. Maybe my dad knows about that place, too.”
Wyatt frowned. “What are you talking about? What cabin?”
