Duquesne was silenced by the invocation of family. At length, he said heavily, “If we were to make the trade, I would need a full battle plan for how we make the handoff and how we track and rescue both Caldwell and Tate.”

“Yes, sir,” Cal said briskly. “When we got the call, I asked a few guys to get to work on that very thing.”

“Who?” Griffin and Duquesne demanded together.

“Ray Peevy will be coordinating it,” Cal answered.

Thank God. With Ray’s capable hands on the wheel, he and Sherri might just make it home from this op alive.

Chapter 22

Sherri emerged cautiously from her little hole in the ground. Twilight made the sky the same dark blue as Griffin’s eyes, and she had to force back a sob at the thought.

She could do this. All she had to do was run back to him. If she’d survived Hell Week, she could survive this. Although immediately on the heels of Hell Week, a grueling desert trek without food, adequate water, and fitful dozing at best was a lot to ask of her body and mind.

Not that she had any choice. She sighed, packed up her meager gear, drank her water because she remembered Griffin saying the best place to carry water was inside your body, and headed out. She’d noted a bump on the horizon due west of her this morning, and she aimed for that silhouette now. When the stars came out, she would use the North Star to keep herself pointed west.

She stopped after an hour or so and dropped to one knee to stretch out a nasty Charley horse in her left calf. It felt like a dehydration cramp, but there wasn’t much she could do about it except grit her teeth and stretch until it passed.

As she straightened to continue on her way, she noticed a tiny blip in the distance, off to the north, that hadn’t been there before she stopped. The blip gradually turned into a tiny tube.

That’s the dust trail of a motorized vehicle.

Did she dare try to wave it down, or was it her captors out looking for her? Undecided, she stared at the gray puff as it grew larger. It dawned on her the vehicle was heading toward her.

Crap, crap, crap. She dropped to the ground, searching frantically for a hiding place. A bush, a rock, anything that would give her cover. Nada. She was out in the open and a sitting duck.

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