Page 212 of On a Fault Line

“I’m done talking about this.”

“And at some point you’re going to have to quit avoiding the conversation.”

“Let me know when Nic and I can get on a plane to get to Penny.”

After several long seconds of silence, I sigh. “Okay.” Then I end the call.

Gripping the steering wheel tightly, I take a sharp right onto a side road. I’ve run through this entire route and scenario every day in my head since the plan was set.

But something seems off.

I can’t tell if I’m about to be the hero in this story or suffer as the victim.

I’m just hoping that I’ll be alive to share my side regardless of what goes down here tonight.

* * *

I cut the engine to the rental, glancing at the GPS on my burner phone just to make sure the transport vehicle is stopped in the exact location that was previously agreed upon during the initial discussions.

Grabbing my mask, I pull it over my head, concealing my hair and any distinguishable facial features.

I roll on my leather gloves and wiggle my fingers to increase dexterity in their movements.

I’m sweaty and my nerves are getting to me.

With my gun loaded and ready to go, I get out of the car and take off running in the direction of Mark Tanner.

I arrive in three minutes. Nestled between tall trees is a little dirt road where the transport vehicle idles. This particular path is used for service vehicles coming and going from a landfill.

But there will be no one showing up at this hour of the evening.

I make my way closer to the van, seeing the driver leaning against the window with his head turned from me.

I knock on the glass to get his attention, but he doesn’t budge.

“Hey, you hear me?”

Pulling on the handle, I watch in shock as his body falls to my feet.

Turning him, I see the knife sticking out of his chest and fresh blood soaking into the fabric of his shirt.

Fuck.

What the hell happened?

Extending my gun out in front of me, I carefully move around to the back of the vehicle where Mark Tanner’s body should be bleeding and in need of medical attention.

Pulling open the heavy doors, I choke on the heavy pungent smell first. Then my eyes search for the body of Mark Tanner, who is sprawled out on the metal floor face-down, covered in bodily fluids.

Hopping into the van, I flip him over.

But it isn’t Mark Tanner that I find without a pulse.

It’s a fucking imposter.

42

PENNY

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