Tess ended the call and got back in her SUV. Her thoughts drifted to Oliver. She hadn’t spoken to him that morning, which was unusual. Emotions conflicted, she didn’t want to argue, she didn’t want friction; she simply wanted to share her thoughts and plans with someone who would understand.

45

Ice left the hotel room cautiously, hoping to avoid contact with anyone. Makeup covered the mark on his cheek, he was clean-shaven, and he’d buzzed his hair very short. He needed to be a ghost now.

He relaxed a bit when he stepped into an empty hallway. Taking as deep a breath as possible while still avoiding pain, he strode toward the elevators. As he got closer to the elevator bay, he could hear a male voice talking. Slowing, Ice paused before stepping from the hallway into the vestibule that held the elevators. Last night, he remembered that there was some problem with them; maybe this was a technician.

Then he heard something that hit him like a brick and made him stand stock-still, straining to catch every bit of what the man was saying.

“Agent Bass gave me instructions to convince the girl that we can protect her better at a different locale.”

Then quiet; the man was listening. Ice held his breath and leaned forward slowly to peer into the vestibule. The man’s back was to him, phone to his ear.

“Hmm.” He nodded.

It was a Fed—the suit, the haircut, the shoes all gave him away—and Royal fought the urge to turn and flee down the stairs.

“Right, I spoke to the sheriff before you called. He says the girl is staying with some prepper. . . . Uh, what? . . . Yeah, apparently the woman lives on some sort of self-contained compound.”

He jammed the elevator button impatiently two or three times. “Well, I have to get out there before I can give you a full report on the situation, don’t I?”

Ice tried to figure out how this could work to his advantage. He could follow the Fed right to Chevy before eliminating him. Ice didn’t mind ridding the world of another Fed.

“There’s a liaison, a local pastor who can take me to the girl. Look, there’s a problem with the elevator here. I’m taking the stairs. I’ll call you back after I make contact with her.”

He shoved the phone into his pocket, and Royal turned, reaching the door to the stairwell first. He pulled the door open for the Fed.

Affecting a British accent, Ice said, “Shoddy elevators, yeah?”

The agent brushed past him, clearly in a hurry. “You said it.”

Ice stepped into the stairwell after him, and before the door closed behind him, he leaped forward and shoved, hitting the agent in the back as hard as he could.

The agent’s startled cry was drowned out by the sound of him and his briefcase falling down the metal and concrete stairs.