Page 111 of In The Trenches (Owens Protective Services)

I shot him a berating look. “You made something of yourself. Like you said, trouble finds me.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “but once this is all over, we’ll get that evidence and blow up the governor’s life. Then you’ll be known as the woman who took down one of the most crooked politicians of our time.”

“I don’t want to be known at all. I just want to live a normal life where no one knows me.”

“This is it, right?” he asked, turning down the long driveway.

“I think so. It looks abandoned.”

“Maybe she doesn’t live here anymore.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if this was it. Aunt Amelia was living with some conspiracy theorist at the time. His name is Noah. He’s one of those preppers that thinks the world is about to end, zombies are real, and the government is bugging everyone’s homes and listening in.”

“You’d be surprised how much of that is true,” he muttered. “Are they still together?”

“As far as I know. When I sent Aunt Amelia that text, I think Noah did something with it. It’s off the cloud.”

We started slowing as we approached the house. “Wait, so you don’t know if they have it?”

“When I checked the cloud a few months after it all happened, the evidence was gone, but I can’t imagine they would get rid of something like that.”

“Eva, you talked to your aunt, right?”

I huffed out a laugh. “Well, no, not on the phone. When I escaped and she ran, the only way we could communicate with each other was through the cloud.”

He slammed on the brakes and faced me, his face urgent. “You said you talked to her this morning.”

“I sent her a picture, to let her know I was okay. And I included a message.”

“What kind of message?” he snapped.

I shook my head, confused as to why he was getting so upset. He glanced at the house, and then at our surroundings. “What do you—”

“Eva, this is fucking serious. Did you ever actually talk to her?”

“No, but I—”

“Then how do you know you were even talking to her?”

“Because we always shared pictures. It’s our form of communication.”

“And anyone could figure that out,” he snapped, pulling his gun from his holster. He shifted into reverse and started backing out just as the front door on the porch opened.

“Wait, that must be Noah.”

Cash hit the gas, spinning the wheel as he turned us in the other direction.

“Cash, what are you doing? My aunt is in there!”

He put the truck in drive and hit the gas. “It’s a fucking setup.”

“What are you talking about?” I shouted, about to call him crazy when bullets started pinging off the truck. I screamed as Cash grabbed me and yanked me down.

“Stay down!” he shouted, driving faster down the driveway.

“What’s going on?”

“You weren’t talking with your aunt. They must have figured out how you were talking to her. You said they knew about her.”

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