Page 32 of Her Faithful Protector

10

JACK

Sam and I meet at the Red Mark headquarters while his wife Cass stays with Ava at the safe house. Although I’ve heard about the facilities here, I’ve only seen a small part of the complex. The meeting room we’re in is impressive, with a large glass table and luxurious leather chairs. It’s equipped with electronic boards and teleconference gadgets that would make the military green with envy. Red Mark is backed by two wealthy investors—the very people Sam and his business partner, Mark Connor, protected when they still worked as bodyguards in New York. But beyond the finances, my brother has done well.

Sam brings up a map on the screen and starts marking a few locations digitally.

“What am I looking at?” I ask.

“I checked the rental car company. The car had been returned to their depot in L.A. And these are the places where the bearded man refueled.” Sam’s finger glides across the glassy surface of the screen.

I look at his tired eyes and ask, “You found all this by yourself?”

“Of course!” Sam responds with confidence. “Although I wish Cora-Lee was here. It’s been like working with one arm tied behind my back without her.”

“Where’s she?”

“She’s in the hospital for sinus surgery.”

“I hope she’s okay,” I express my worry. Cora-Lee is a tech genius who can locate anything as long as it’s stored digitally.

Sam refocuses on the map and adds, “All these places are en route between L.A. and Helena. Except this one.” He puts a red circle on Townsend, a town about thirty miles southeast of Helena.

I praise him with a pat on his shoulder. “I’m gonna check it out.”

“Be careful, and keep your distance.”

“As far as our enemies are concerned, I’m Jack Benedict. I don’t know Ava, I don’t know you.”

“Good.” Sam nods, gesturing for me to go.

I ask, “Do you have men on standby in case Quinton is there?”

“I’ve got your back, Jack. Call me when you find something.”

Grabbing my jacket, I leave the meeting room. I make my way toward the basement exit, the same way I entered earlier today. This exit leads to an adjacent building where I parked my car, trying to preserve my dissociation with Red Mark for as long as I can. As I drive out cautiously, my eyes dart around, constantly on the lookout for any signs of someone following me. Satisfied, I head straight to Townsend.

Upon arriving, I question my enemy’s choice of this hiding place. Townsend seems more like a holiday destination than a suitable location to conceal a baby. The Big Belt Mountains envelop the town on its west side, and the Missouri River flowsnearby. Nonetheless, just like a lot of spots in Montana, the isolation of a place can make it an advantage for criminals.

I decide to stop by the town center to fill up with gas. The old man behind the counter has a boat-captain look that reminds me of a face from cruise advertisements back in Oahu. He quotes the price, “Thirty-five fifty.” Then he makes eye contact. “Visiting today?”

“Um…yeah. Actually, I’m not really sure where I’m going. I’m looking for my sister, she’s just moved here. But we lost contact, and I don’t really know her address.”

“Hmm. We’re a small community, and there aren’t that many newcomers here.”

I show him a photo and ask, “Have you seen her? She would be with a baby.”

“I’m sorry, young man, I can’t remember.” He glances at me as he puts away the cash I just handed to him.

Deciding that the man at the store was unlikely to cooperate, I leave without asking any more questions. I keep driving around, and eventually, I come across a bookstore that also sells toys. If Quinton is here, maybe the babysitter bought something from this store.

As I gaze at the friendly face of the cashier from outside, an idea springs to mind.

Before entering the store, I create a new contact on my phone using the photo of the babysitter that Ava helped me find. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about her. Greta Hall is a twenty-five-year-old college dropout who has spent her whole life in L.A. Her primary source of income has been babysitting, supplemented by occasional work at supermarkets and hotels.

The bookshop lady greets me with a wide smile. When she offers assistance, I politely decline, stating that I’m just browsing. I peruse the shelves, but none of the books catch myattention. However, determined not to leave empty-handed, I pick up a plush toy from a basket.

“Isn’t it adorable?” the lady says. “It’s your lucky day. This is the last one!”

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