Again, he studied the fresh tracks in damp earth, leading from the site into the forest. He knew the direction Yacine had taken and reasoned that he couldn’t be that far away. Reaching deep inside, clawing for whatever he had left, Fortin did what he was trained to do.

He pursued his prisoner.

-Chapter 47-

Jade Falls, Washington

For Yacine, the pine-scented mountain air was almost as sweet as freedom. Moving fast over the rugged high country, he embraced the whip crack of needled branches against his pale skin.

Anything was better than his cage in Saskatchewan.

But he had to stop.

Again.

Disciplined, regimented bodybuilding did not make him a long-distance runner. He doubled over, gulping air and thinking. His sources on the outside had tipped him to what the patriots in the U.S. justice system had planned for him in Seattle. Through the convict network they’d gotten word to him that the FBI had a special witness who was going to make some kind of deathbed ID of Yacine.

Yacine laughed at his incredible luck.

That was not going to happen.

In just a few days, there would be nothing connecting him to any of his contract work in Seattle, or D.C., or London, or Madrid, or Athens, or anywhere else.

They thought they had this old boy nailed.

They thought wrong.

Yacine was strong and the strong survived.

He caught his breath at a clearing that offered a sweeping view. He scanned it, calculating that all he needed was to get to a highway, get into a vehicle, and he was gone.

In the distance, rolling over the undulating foothills he heard the faint echoing whump-whump-whump of the helicopters.

He smiled to himself.

The odds were on his side.

Yacine kept moving.

-Chapter 48-

Ice Lake, Washington

After Eileen’s call from the hospital, several long moments passed as Ren processed what was happening.

I can’t lose Lee. I just can’t.

She couldn’t waste time.

Come on, get moving! Get moving!

She began packing as fast as she could, debating, as she loaded clothes and toiletries into her suitcase, on whether to bring Tipper with her. Fighting tears she reasoned that, given the circumstances, it might be good to have him at Lee’s house for the kids.

It could be therapeutic, and I need him with me because I don’t want to make this drive alone.

After gathering some food and items for Tipper, Ren set her suitcase and Tipper’s things in the back of her Jeep. Tipper took his spot in the passenger seat, happily panting. He liked going for drives. Ren stroked his head, closed the door, then got behind the wheel.

She drove a short distance to the driveway next door, the one with the mailbox fastened to the post with a U.S. flag fluttering in the breeze.

The name on the box read B. Gafferty.