“The news is overrated anyway,” Emerson said. “We tried listening to the news on the radio this morning and it was depressing.”
Riley was pacing in the RV, trying to get some exercise without going out and showing her face. They didn’t have any immediate neighbors, but she thought the campground might have security cameras. She was freaked out enough. She didn’t want the Grunwald goon squad breaking her door down in the middle of the night.
“I don’t see how this is going to end well for us,” Riley said.
“I have a plan.”
“Does it involve fleeing to a foreign country and surrounding ourselves with bodyguards?”
“I’m going to find the stolen gold and expose the Grunwalds. They’ll be put in jail and we’ll be heroes.”
“How are you going to do this?”
“I haven’t got the details worked out.”
“You have no clue.”
“Not at the moment, but I’m sure it will come to me.”
“You think the gold is hidden on the air force base.”
“Yes. Or in the vicinity.”
“Are you familiar with the air force base? Do you have a map? Aerial photographs? Inside information?”
“No, no, no, and no.”
“That’s not the answer I wanted to hear.”
“I’ve made arrangements for a guide,” Emerson said.
Riley nodded. “I guess that could work. It’s someone reliable, right? Knows the area in and out?”
“I really don’t know. Vernon made the arrangements.”
“Oh boy.”
“You grew up in Texas,” Emerson said. “Groom Lake was practically in your backyard. You must have some familiarity with it.”
“Nope. Just the usual urban legend. When we took a vacation we opted for Six Flags. Groo
m Lake wasn’t in the running. It’s actually about a twelve-hour drive.”
—
Riley was back on the road after another restless night. The sky was a brilliant blue and the air was crisp. Emerson was silent in the seat next to her. Her second cup of coffee of the day was in the cup holder. She was on Interstate 40 and in six hours they’d reach Amarillo. If she took loop 335 she’d be home in Bishop Hills.
Ten years ago she’d been the country girl going off on a great adventure, anxious to leave Texas. She loved her family but she’d wanted independence. She’d wanted to experience a larger world, to make her mark. And now here she was heading back to Texas under strange circumstances. Not the triumphant return she’d hoped for. And she wouldn’t be taking the loop road this trip either. Too dangerous.
“I need to find a way to contact my parents and tell them I’m okay,” Riley said.
“Understood. I’m sure I can find a way to make an untraceable contact when we get to Vegas.”
He’s on the hunt, Riley thought. He’s stimulated by this. She could see it in his eyes and in his posture. She could feel the energy radiating off him. He wasn’t the hunted. He was the hunter. And that’s where they differed. She felt hunted. She was numb with disbelief that her life had taken this turn. She was going through the motions of putting one foot in front of the other and moving forward, but her heart wasn’t in it. She was in survival mode, and Emerson had become the Caped Crusader. Okay, she admitted to herself, Emerson has probably always been the Caped Crusader. The man has no fear. It’s all like a game to him.
The ache in her chest started an hour before they reached Amarillo. She was homesick. The road and the landscape were familiar and she could feel the pull of family. She hadn’t been home since Christmas. Too long, she thought. If she somehow made it through this she’d visit more often.
They motored along without speaking, Emerson lost in his own thoughts, Riley not trusting her voice. They were on the outskirts of Amarillo, and Riley felt the ache begin to lift. The road was forcing her to look forward. They were approaching the no-man’s-land between Amarillo and Tucumcari, New Mexico, now. One of those stretches where it seemed like the white lane lines went on forever and never seemed to reach human habitation.