Page 37 of Master of Chaos
“Washington coast,” she said. “About fifteen miles north of Cray’s Cove and ten miles inland. No place for a helicopter to land around here. Maybe up on the plateau, near the cabin. I’ll send coordinates once we’re up there.”
I relayed that to Ethan. “Can you do this for her?” I asked. “Are you sure?”
“For you,” he said. “I’ll do it for you, Shane. If you want me to.”
“Okay,” I said. “Do it for me. I owe this girl.”
“Fine, but I can’t believe this. I keep thinking I’m being pranked.”
“Me too,” I said. “I gotta go. Tell us what happens with the kid.”
“Will do. Get me those coordinates. The first second that you can.”
“Yeah. Uh… thanks for picking up the phone.”
He let out a sharp laugh. “Thanks for still being alive,” he said. “Now stay that way, goddammit. Or else.”
“I’ll do my best. Later, Ethan.” I closed the call. My hand shook as I held the phone out to her. “There you go,” I said. “I kept my side of your imaginary bargain.”
Red’s eyes glittered with tears. “You called them,” she whispered brokenly. “You didn’t have to. Thank you. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” I said. “Thank them, after it’s done. I’m not the one putting my life and my freedom on the line by attacking Halliwell’s people. You had better not be fucking with me, Red. Because if my brother or sister or any of my friends get hurt because of this, we are going to have a serious problem.”
“I understand, but thank you anyway,” she said stubbornly.
“When it’s done,” I insisted grimly. “It’s bad luck before.”
Silence fell. Birds sang outside, and the sound that pierced my ears was high and thin and pure, and intensely sweet warble. I focused on her outrageous dress. The big skirt. It was heavily spattered with blood, I realized.
“Are you hurt?” I demanded. “There’s blood on your dress.”
“Not mine,” she said. “It’s yours. Your throat, when you were flailing around. After I injected you with the stimulant.”
I looked down. Sure enough, my chest was covered with sticky blood. So what else was new. “Bummer about the dress,” I told her. “I liked that dress.”
She let out a soggy little laugh. “Yeah, this is my life now. On the run in a strapless ball gown.” She plucked at the skirt. “This thing was Halliwell’s choice.”
“He has good taste in ball gowns,” I said. “And that is the first, last, and only good thing I will ever say about that perverted, conniving piece of shit.”
“No arguments from me,” she said swiftly.
“So are you winging this? Or have you got a plan?”
“I don’t know if you could call it a plan, but I have a mouse-hole,” she said.
I squinted at her, bemused. “A what?”
She looked embarrassed. “Sorry. That’s what my mom and I called them. A safe house. She had good reasons to be paranoid, and she liked organizing off-the-grid places we could retreat to. Kind of like mice skittering into a hole in the wall. She went to great lengths so that the paperwork never had her name on it.”
“Did you ever use them?”
“No, but they made her sleep better. After she died, I kept them stocked and ready. When Halliwell blackmailed me into this, I organized one nearby. Just in case.”
“How far?”
“About ten more miles on the highway, then eight more on a rough mountain road. It’s way up in the hills.”
“What’s there?” I demanded.