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As she cleaned the last bit, a familiar-looking object became visible. Small, metallic. A chip.
“Garrett? Were you ever fitted with a tracking device?”
“Hell, no. If the bad guys caught the frequency...” His head whipped around. “Is one back there?”
“Yes.”
“Get it out. Now.”
“It’s implanted in your back. You need a doctor to cut it out.”
“Hand me my backpack.”
She dug into her duffel. He tugged out the nylon pack and retrieved a small medical kit, complete with a small scalpel and forceps.
“Yank it out,” he said. “We don’t have any time to lose. They could be closing in now.”
Laurel blinked, staring at the tracking device. She could do this. Her hand shook, and she sucked in a deep breath.
“It’s easy. You said there was an incision? Just follow the scar and pull the thing out.
“I don’t suppose you have pain medicine in your bag of tricks?”
Molly stuck her head over the seat. She gasped. “Sheriff Garrett, you have lots of boo-boos. You can use all my princess Band-Aids if you need them.”
“Laurel, just do it.” Garrett smiled up at Molly. “Why don’t you find me those Band-Aids, sugar?”
Molly ducked behind the backseat.
“Now,” he said tightly.
“Brace yourself.”
He gripped the passenger seat. She leaned over him. Taking a deep breath, Laurel pushed the knife into his back and sliced the skin, revealing the entire chip. He didn’t say a word, but when she grabbed it with the medical tweezers, his back tightened. Blood flowed from the wound.
She dabbed at it. “Got it.”
“Oh, yuck. That’s a really bad boo-boo.”
“Not so bad, sugar. Maybe you’ll be a doctor when you grow up so you can fix people.”
Molly’s smile brightened. “I want to fix people.” She hugged her lion tight.
“Laurel, clean the wound with the Betadine. Put some antibiotic ointment on it and use the butterfly strips to close it,” he ordered.
Molly insisted on adding several of her own bandages. When they’d finished, Garrett turned to Laurel. His face had gone pale.
“There’s a clinic in Trouble,” she repeated.
“We can’t go back there. Where is the chip?”
She picked up the small device with the forceps. He took it from her and turned it over in his hand. His jawline throbbed. “Damn him.”
“Who?”
He lifted his gaze and met hers.
“Your father requested these chips. As far as I knew, they were never used, but he had one put into me. He would have been the only one to know the frequency.”
* * *
MIKE STRICKLAND GROANED and pressed his hand to his head. It came away bloody and sticky. He rolled over. His entire body hurt. He tested each limb. Nothing broken, though his head might explode at any moment. Slowly he sat up.
Krauss lay next to him, his neck obviously broken.
He’d been the weak link anyway. A lot like Derek Bradley. The guy was a fool. If it had been him, he’d have put a bullet in both men’s brains...just to be sure.
Strickland struggled to his feet and glared up the steep incline. “I gotta find that guy.”
He searched around. No tracking device. “Damn.” He hoped Bradley didn’t have it.
A phone sounded a few feet from Strickland. His head pounding as if he had an ice pick stabbed in his ear, he followed the sound and bent down, nearly crying out in pain.
The name on the screen caused his stomach to roil. He vomited all over the ground. He should ignore it.
The ringing stopped, then started again.
“Strickland.”
“Don’t ignore me again, Strickland.”
He wiped his mouth.
“Bradley was moving toward Trouble, Texas, and now his signal has vanished. You failed. Again.”
“We have a plan,” Strickland lied.
“Oh, really? Now that we can no longer track Derek Bradley, he’s an even greater threat. Neutralize him.”
“I understand.”
“Do you, Strickland? Do you really? Because this is your second mistake in as many days. That’s one more than anyone else under my command has made—and still lived.”
The phone call ended.
He needed a plan. First to get back to his SUV, and then to find Bradley.
Strickland sank to his knees and emptied the rest of the contents of his stomach next to Krauss’s body.
He’d never find Bradley this way.
If he couldn’t chase after Bradley, he’d just have to find bait that would attract him.
Trouble, Texas, was the way to do it.
Chapter Nine (#u9efcc841-fcab-552b-8d99-3836b8e73c47)
Laurel wrenched open the door of the SUV. The destroyed chip lay on the ground, along with her shredded heart. “You’re wrong about my father,” she said, her face hot with anger. “He would never hurt you like that.”
“I know what I saw,” Garrett said. “First your sister’s evidence pointing to James, and now this.”
She scooted into the front seat and gripped the steering wheel. It couldn’t be. “He might not have been the perfect father or even around much, but he’s a patriot through and through. And he’s definitely no traitor.”
“Well, neither am I,” Garrett snapped. “Yet I’m being hunted. He told lies about me, acted like the heartbroken, betrayed mentor, supposedly to save my life. But now I have to wonder. What better way to hide your true leanings than to throw someone close to you to the wolves and mourn the treason?”
She didn’t want to admit the plan sounded good—just simple enough and brilliant enough to have her father’s name attached to it. But she wouldn’t—couldn’t—believe James McCallister would do that to Garrett.
“Why did he save your life, then?” Laurel shot back, desperate to convince him—and herself—that her father hadn’t betrayed both of them.
“I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“If my dad really were responsible for all of this, he wouldn’t have kept you alive. He wouldn’t have given you your new identity.” Laurel put her arm on the back of the seat and faced him. “And Dad sure wouldn’t have—” she glanced back at Molly “—caused the explosion in Virginia,” she said under her breath.
The little girl’s wide eyes went back and forth between them, her lip trembling.
“You’re making me cry. I don’t like fighting.”
Garrett’s eyes softened. “Sorry, sugar. Your aunt and I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Molly hunkered back in the seat, hugging Mr. Houdini close. “Mommy and Daddy fighted about her job all the time.”
Laurel twisted in the car. “I didn’t know that. What did they say?”
“Daddy wanted Mommy to stay at home with me. I wanted her to stay home, too. Now she’ll never stay with me.” Molly hugged the stuffed animal and picked at its neck. “She said she was doing something ’portant and couldn’t stop them.”
“I’m sorry, Molly.” Laurel shot Garrett a glare. “We won’t fight anymore. Will we?”
He shook his head. “I’m not lying to Molly, because we’re going to disagree about this.” He gave Molly a small smile. “But, sugar, we’ll promise to discuss things more quietly next time. Okay?”
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