The Rescue(68)

“My house is the only place within fifty miles where you can get a good cup of coffee.”

“I don’t want to stress out Anna and the kids,” said Decker. “I’m probably the last person they need to see right now.”

“They’d actually love to see you. But I sent them away as soon as I saw the news about Penkin. I figured a storm was brewing and that you’d show up eventually—possibly bringing it with you. I hope I was wrong.”

“You’re right about the storm, but I didn’t bring it here. Nobody followed me,” said Decker. “How did you know I’d take this route?”

“I didn’t,” said Pierce. “A retired gunnery sergeant owns the house at the end of Main Street, just past the retention pond. Vietnam vet. Crusty old guy with an even crustier wife. I’ve gotten to know them pretty well over the past year. He saw you stop in front of the fork in the road and pull out a laptop. Not many shiny new SUVs go left at that fork. ATVs and a few Jeeps, mostly. Especially at seven in the morning on a weekday. He called me right away and followed your dust trail.”

“Your place is like five miles from here.”

“Five point two miles over land. Eight point five miles over some hard-packed dirt roads that I know like the back of my hand,” said Pierce. “I got here two minutes before you arrived.”

“Sounds like good people.”

“Really good people,” said Pierce. “He has you covered with one of his hunting rifles right now.”

“Then I’ll keep this formal.” Decker extended a hand. “So I don’t get shot.”

Pierce grabbed his hand and yanked him in for a hug. “It’s great to see you, man!”

“I can’t even tell you how good it is to see you again,” said Decker, slapping his back a few times before ending the hug. He wanted to cry, letting some of the pent-up emotion flow, but he kept it together—sort of.

“Look at us,” said Pierce. “Two grown-ass men holding back the floodgates.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice. Opening those floodgates can get you killed in prison.”

“I can’t imagine. How the hell did you manage to get out early? I thought you got ten years. Five no matter what.”

“That’s all part of what I need to show you. A team of military contractor types tried to kill me less than an hour after I was released. They weren’t Russian.”

“I know I’m going to regret this,” said Pierce. “Follow the gunny out of here. He’ll bring you out to the county road and around the other side of this ridge. I’ll drive you the rest of the way.”

Pierce produced a handheld radio from one of his vest pockets.

“That reminds me,” said Decker. “I need to call off the cavalry.”

“Cavalry? I thought you said nobody followed you.”

“I have a helicopter team standing by in Denver. They were going to stage somewhere east of Aguilar by ten forty-five, in case you got the drop on me. So much for that plan.”

“Did you use one of our old contacts to arrange this?”

He understood why Pierce was worried. Any of World Recovery Group’s prior business contacts would be required by the Department of Justice to report the interaction. The helicopter that arrived would more than likely read FBI on the fuselage, followed closely by an armada of government SUVs.

“Negative. A friend set it up. No names involved. She’s the only one that knows the location of your house,” said Decker. “You can trust her. She saved me from the group that tried to kill me right after my phony prison release.”

“I don’t trust anyone,” said Pierce. “That’s why I live off the grid, homeschooling my kids and constantly explaining why we live in the middle of freaking nowhere.”

“She’d never betray us. I’d stake my life on that.”

“I’ll hold you to that if anyone uninvited shows up.”

“I can leave now. The last thing I want is to bring any trouble to your doorstep.”

Pierce stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “I’ll listen to whatever you have to say. But there’s something you need to know before we go anywhere.”

“Okay,” said Decker, intrigued by the last-moment confession.

“Someone else survived that night.”

“Not according to my research,” said Decker. “You were the only anomaly on the list. No death certificates. Everyone else had one. It’s the only reason I started to look into you. When I saw the house in the hills on recent satellite imagery, I knew it had to be you.”

“I guess it’s all a matter of perspective,” said Pierce. “I didn’t see myself as the biggest anomaly.”

“I don’t follow.”

“When I ran the same list, I saw a different name,” said Pierce. “Kurt Aleman and his family were killed inside the house they were renting in Tampico, Mexico. It’s on the Gulf of Mexico side, about two hundred miles from the Texas border.”

He’d heard the news from his attorney. Aleman, his wife, and their three elementary school–aged children were found chopped to pieces and thrown in the backyard hot tub. Decker had assumed that the Russians had reached out to the Gulf cartel for a favor. The Bratva had a long-standing alliance with them to smuggle cocaine into Europe and the US.