Page 66 of Colton First Responder (Coltons of Mustang Valley)

He looked around the parking lot but didn’t see anything that made him suspicious, so he followed.

The stuff they picked up after quickly strolling the narrow aisles of the store was the usual—a few sandwiches, more water, some chips and dip, and sweet rolls for the morning. Not a lot of the latter, but enough that they both would have an adequate amount if he did wind up staying the night, and Grayson was sure Savannah recognized that. But neither of them mentioned it.

He paid, of course. The young woman a

t the cash register didn’t pay much attention to them, a good thing. Then, with Grayson holding the paper bag, they returned to the car and he began driving again.

On the route back, he did a few more twists and turns just in case but still saw no indication of anyone following or otherwise showing any interest in them. He finally headed his SUV toward his bunker.

“So everything’s okay?” Savannah asked from beside him. Of course she would have noticed his weaving around local roads even after their small shopping expedition and understood why—smart lady that she was.

He aimed a smile at her before turning onto the street that would take him to the dirt road toward the bunker. “Yep, but we can’t be too careful, can we?”

“No,” she said, then added, “I’m learning so much from you, Grayson. And I’ll never be able to thank you enough for all you’re doing for me.”

“Sure you can,” he said teasingly. “I’ll always be glad to hear it. First responders always are.”

Once more he glanced at her—and wished he could just pull over and put his arms around the woman who was smiling so sadly at him. A pretty woman despite her disguise, including those silly glasses.

A sexy woman—and he definitely knew that about her, thanks to experience. Not that he dared to anticipate much more, if any.

But he had to keep his eyes on the semblance of a road through the forest beyond his family ranch, so he turned back to look out the windshield. Soon, they got to the area where he always parked and he put his car in its secluded spot.

She waited for him to go first as they approached the opening to the former mineshaft, though. Inside the cave, he again used the light from his phone to illuminate their path, and they quickly reached the rear part and entered the bunker area.

He lit the lanterns, then walked quickly to where he had stored the generator in an area off to the side and picked up the large container of gasoline he always left there, poured it into the machine, then turned it on.

Savannah had apparently been watching. “That’s so cool,” she said. “This place could turn into quite a home if you ever wanted to live here.”

“That was the point,” Grayson responded.

He couldn’t resist. The last time they were there, the previous night, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her, and he wanted to touch her now. Which he did. But he limited himself to giving her a quick kiss. For now. And was delighted that she returned it.

Then he plugged the recorder into the generator while Savannah went into the bathroom to change back to looking like Savannah. They soon sat down on two folding chairs in the middle of the room and used a third to hold the recorder. Grayson looked the machine over, then pushed the buttons he thought would get the audio started, hopefully from the beginning.

It took a little more effort, though, since what they heard at first included some static and telephone sounds like a busy signal. But soon Grayson had it working just fine.

And from what he could tell, they were initially listening to telephone conversations Zane Oliver had had some time ago, maybe a few months. Most seemed to be with business associates, though not all of them.

Grayson was sometimes captivated, sometimes amused, by the conversations they heard, though nothing was particularly helpful when Zane talked with, chided, and even threatened people who apparently were mostly customers of his. Grayson was disappointed that he heard nothing from Zane admitting anything incriminating. Even the threats were fairly inconsequential.

Grayson only hoped there would be some other, more helpful conversations to come.

* * *

It felt so weird to Savannah to be listening to these phone conversations. Listening to Zane being Zane, encouraging business associates to invest lots and lots of money in his bank.

Before sitting down, she had removed her disguise. That felt better, but it also felt good to know her trick had worked.

The folding chairs Grayson had in this attractively decorated cave were surprisingly comfortable, with cushioning on the seats and back, a good thing because Grayson and she might be there for quite a while hearing the recorded conversations. Grayson had given Savannah yet another pad of paper to write on, this time so she could make notes about whose voices they heard, if she recognized them or figured out who they were from what they or Zane said.

Savannah was able to identify quite a few people, even those who didn’t live in Mustang Valley. Zane had had a lot of contacts all over; at parties and other occasions many people attempted to get to know him better, impress him, so he would not only do business with them but would also provide information and support for them and their companies.

Some of the names she heard included Rex Affler, owner of a local brewery, and Miranda Borden, from a national clothing manufacturer. All businesspeople who undoubtedly had appreciated having a contact at a successful investment bank like Zane’s.

All people who apparently wanted something from him.

Which Zane clearly knew, sometimes stringing them along, sometimes telling them to call back the next day when he was at work. Sometimes insulting them. Sometimes insinuating threats if they didn’t invest money through his bank’s services. And sometimes even telling them he was sorry, but he couldn’t help them.

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