Page 52 of Peril in Piney Woods

The voice—the one that had always had the power to steady her—shook her now. She hesitated. Focused on calming the pounding in her chest. She wrestled the emotions aside. “Agent 16578 reporting in”

“Eleanor?”

“No one else has that number,” she pointed out. “And I’m reasonably confident not too many people have your private cell number.”

“Where the hell are you? We thought you were dead.”

“It doesn’t matter where I am right now.” She watched the time. “What matters is that we have a situation. Our comrade Kase Ridley is working for the other side.”

“What? That’s impossible. Eleanor, you need to come in. We’ve ironed out the issues from that day. You have been exonerated completely. There is nothing to fear.”

She refused to be swayed by the words that a year ago she would have given her right arm to hear. “I don’t have a lot of time. You need to call Ridley back in. He’s working for Lorenzo.”

“Just tell me where you are, Eleanor. Let me help you.”

His continued evasion of her statement set her further on edge.

“Don’t ignore my warning,” she reiterated. Then she ended the call. She struggled to slow her pounding heart. Forced her respiration to steady.

Then, for a bit, she replayed the brief conversation. The surprise in his voice had been real enough. He hadn’t expected to hear from her. He really had thought she was dead. And he insisted it was impossible that Ridley had gone to the dark side.

This was not good, she decided. On second thought, she decided the surprise wasn’t real in terms of her being alive; it was about her calling him. She had been trained far too well, had never failed in an assignment. She wouldn’t be taken down so easily. So the surprise was that he hadn’t expected her to call him. Which might mean that he was aware of what Ridley was doing. Was that an indication that Ridley was acting with the sanction of the chain of command?

Her gut said yes.

Deputy Director Arthur Wisting would know if he’d lost an operative to the other side. He was far too astute to be caught off guard so easily.

Which meant she was screwed.

If she couldn’t trust her old boss—certainly couldn’t trust Ridley—then who could she trust? How far up the chain did this go?

Worse—sadly, it did get worse—this meant that she could not be allowed to survive under any circumstances.

She started to pace. This was why Ridley was involved. He knew her better than anyone. He would be the best option for eliminating her.

If Wisting had known she was alive all this time and didn’t actively attempt to find her, then maybe he’d been willing to let her go, but now that had changed. She knew their secret. Ridley, perhaps with Wisting’s blessing, was no longer on the right side.

Okay, all she had to do was disappear before they found her. No problem. She’d done it before, she could do it again. Though it was true that Ridley knew her better than anyone else save perhaps Wisting himself, she also knew Ridley. He was as vulnerable as she was.

Determination filled her. She wasn’t going down easy.

The water in the shower stopped. She glanced in the direction of the bathroom. The one glitch in her plan was Griff. How did she protect him? Ridley would use Griff against her to manipulate her. It was Undercover 101. Learn the enemy’s weaknesses and use them against him.

At this very moment, Ernie, Jodie and Dottie were in danger as well. But Griff would be the one Ridley zeroed in on. Meg knew how he thought. Going after Griff was the step she would take, if the circumstances were reversed. Ridley would quickly determine which of those people around her were the highest-value target. The fact that Griff was on the run with her would elevate his worth many times over.

A good friend would listen to your sob story, your issues, your mistakes, but a best friend—the closest friend—would show up with a shovel to help bury the problem.

She had to find a way to take Griff out of the line of fire.

GRIFF RUBBED THE towel over his skin. He hadn’t heard much of Meg’s conversation, but what little he had didn’t sound good. She was in real trouble. He desperately wished he could make her understand that she had friends here. The past didn’t matter. Ernie would help. Sheriff Norwood would go with whatever Ernie suggested. Loads of other people would be more than glad to throw in their support.

But Meg wouldn’t take the risk.

It wasn’t for her own safety that she ignored this option. She was doing it to protect him and the people she considered friends.

How did he convince her that she was looking at this all wrong?

He swiped his palm over the foggy mirror and then finger-combed his hair. Rubbing a hand over his jaw, he realized he needed a shave far more badly than he’d realized. But grooming had been the furthest thing from his mind for the past twenty-four or so hours. Staying alive and making sure Meg stayed that way too was priority one.

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