Chapter 24 - Bloodlines Written in Salt
The crack of a twig twenty yards behind them shattered the silence.
"They're tracking the scent dogs," Daniel hissed, gripping Emily’s arm. "We can't stay in these woods."
He hoisted Mason onto his shoulders. They sprinted through the dense brush toward the old access road running along the edge of the abandoned quarry. Daniel’s mind raced through every tactical contingency. Arthur was behind bars, Vanessa was in county jail, and Victoria was awaiting federal arraignment.
Who was commanding the tactical team in the black SUV?
They reached the rusted chain-link fence of the old quarry service station. Parked behind a row of rusted shipping containers was a faded blue pickup truck—an old utility vehicle Daniel had left there two years ago as emergency storage. He reached under the front bumper, feeling along the greasy frame until his fingers hit the magnetic key box.
"Get in," he ordered, throwing the passenger door open.
Emily climbed in, pulling Mason onto her lap. The boy wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her torn dress, breathing in the faint, lingering scent of lavender and cedar that still clung to her skin despite three years of antiseptic hospital rooms.
Daniel turned the ignition. The old V8 engine coughed, sputtered, and roared to life with a cloud of gray exhaust. He threw the gear into reverse, slammed on the gas, and tore through the gravel access road toward Highway 9.
In the rearview mirror, three black SUVs burst through the tree line, red and blue strobe lights flashing behind their tinted windshield grilles.
"They have government plates!" Emily screamed, clutching Mason tightly. "Daniel, they're not mercenaries! They're Marshals!"
"No," Daniel gritted his teeth, shifting hard into third gear as the truck fish-tailed onto the asphalt. "Marshals don't throw tear gas into a house with a six-year-old child. Arthur’s payroll reached all the way to the state capital. These are dirty badges."
Daniel reached into the glove compartment, his hand closing around his spare weapon—a rugged .45 caliber 1911 pistol he had hidden away before his marriage to Vanessa. He racked the slide, chambering a heavy round.
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"Hold on to him, Emily," Daniel growled, staring into the side mirror as the lead SUV accelerated, matching their speed bumper-to-bumper. "We’re going to give them a reason to back off."
***
