Secrets She Kept Page 7

  The man had his sights set on far more than this compound.

  * * *

  Smith ran hard, pushing for another mile. There were times when he left the compound for Council business but this was the only way he left the compound on a daily basis. He ran six miles every day. Did the rest of his workout in the rec center at the compound. But when he ran he needed the freedom he couldn’t get within the center running around and around a track. To find that freedom he ran through the woods. He had a route that took him through the areas where he was less likely to run into another human. Only once had he encountered another man and he’d been a hunter with no desire for small talk. He’d been on a mission that involved prey of the four-legged kind.

  Smith made his usual quick stops. Leaned against a tree in one location and pretended to check his right shoe. There was nothing on the ground at the base of the tree. Nothing tucked into the moss. Then he moved on. His next stop was the sparkling stream that bubbled out from the mountainside. He knelt on one knee and cupped his hand for a drink. The water was crystal clear and cool despite the heat of the late summer days. He scanned the rocky bottom of the stream as he drank. Nothing. He sipped the water and then moved on. There was one final stop, the rocky ridge where he stopped again. This time he tied his shoe. There was nothing tucked between the stones.

  No message.

  He had been certain there would be something. A warning of some trouble headed his way. Or of some planned rebel uprising. The one time that had happened had secured once and for all his position on the Council. This time, however, he’d expected news of Sadie Buchanan’s true mission. Some word of other trouble he should anticipate. But no message had been sent.

  There could be only one explanation. Buchanan’s mission was off the books, in all probability unsanctioned.

  She was on her own.

  Damn it. He couldn’t take care of a rogue federal agent and complete his own mission. He was already on thin ice with Prentiss.

  The memory of Avery Flynn carried a great deal of weight, as did his warning when a rebel faction had planned a takeover. But Prentiss remained more respected. If a choice had to be made between the two of them, Smith would not likely come out on top.

  There was one other thing he could do. He could go down to the church and find the most recent newspaper. A message went into the classifieds only if there was no other option. If his contact had felt he was being watched in the woods, he would not leave a message at any of the regular drops.

  Smith headed in that direction at a steady pace. His destination was just over three miles so less than half an hour was required to make the journey. He would have been able to go much faster if not for the winding, rocky paths through the woods. The paths were ones used by hunters and hikers, nothing made by anyone who belonged to the Resurrection.

  He and the others were careful not to make new paths and to stay on the ones made by others. Slowing as he approached the church, Smith surveyed the area to ensure no one was about. The church was now defunct. Marcus Winters and his sister Sierra had been outed by their sister, who had recently been released from prison.

  That was the way of secrets. They could only be kept for so long before they were found out.

  His secret wouldn’t keep much longer. He could not accommodate this unforeseen hitch. There was no leeway in his schedule for Sadie Buchanan and whatever trouble she had dragged in with her.

  The church was empty as he’d expected. He walked to the road and checked the paper box that hung beneath the official mailbox. With the local newspaper in hand, he strode back to the church and sat down on the front steps. He opened the paper and carefully skimmed the classifieds. Nothing.

  But the name Trenton Pollard had been a clear warning. He tossed the paper aside and stood. Something was happening and he needed to be able to prepare for whatever that something was.

  What if his contact had been compromised?

  There was no way to know.

  Smith heaved a breath and returned to the woods. He picked his way back to a familiar path and jogged for a couple of miles. In the two years since going undercover he had not been faced with a situation like this one. But he’d understood this time could come. His contact could be compromised. The man was older; he could very well have fallen ill or died. Time would be required for a replacement to be situated.

  The only question was whether or not Smith had the time.

  He slowed to a walk when he was within a mile of the compound. For now there was little he could do beyond moving forward as if Sadie Buchanan had not suddenly appeared.

  The Levi Winters issue had apparently been rectified. Prentiss had decided to use him as a breeder. Smith still found that abrupt decision strange. Had that been the beginning of whatever was happening? Perhaps Sadie Buchanan was not the real problem. Maybe it was Winters.

  His brother, Marcus, had been a reliable ally for many years. Levi had been an on-again, off-again dabbler. He had been involved with Jack Kemp—yet another reason Smith couldn’t understand Prentiss’s sudden decision to keep him for any purpose.

  Smith ensured he was not being followed as he ducked into the camouflaged pedestrian entrance to the compound. Whatever Prentiss was up to, he would keep it to himself until he was ready to move. He never shared a strategic move that involved security with any of the other Council members, much less Smith. He was far too paranoid.

  There was nothing to do but remain vigilant and see how the situation played out.

  Prentiss was a very astute man. He had not hung on to his position as leader of the Council by being naive or weak.

  Smith supposed he should be grateful he had managed to abide the man this long. Certainly he could claim at least one record.

  No one else had ever lived a lie right in front of Rayford Prentiss for this long.

  Chapter 7

  “Where are we going now?”

  Sadie felt grateful for the bath and the clean clothes and in particular for the salve and the bandages on her hands. But she still had a mission to attempt completing. She needed to find Levi Winters. Obviously he was still alive if Prentiss had planned his marriage to one of his daughters. Sadie decided not to try to figure out if the woman was his biological child. The idea that the old man could have dozens of children by different women made her feel ill, especially if the women had not been willing participants in the endeavors.

  “The cafeteria.”

  Her attention slid back to the man at her side. The rumble in her stomach warned that it had been way too long since she had fueled up. No question. But maybe the trip to the cafeteria was about a new job for her. Just because she was being taken there didn’t mean she would be allowed to eat.

  “To work?” she asked since her guard seemed a bit more receptive to answering questions now.

  “To eat.”

  This time her stomach growled loud enough for him to hear, too.

  He grunted. She supposed that was as close to a laugh as he would permit, but she didn’t miss the glint of humor in his eyes.

  They entered the detention center. This time their journey took them to the left when they reached the connecting corridor that led to the cells on the right. At the end of the left corridor a set of double doors stood, the word Cafeteria emblazoned across the pair.

  At the doors he hesitated. “Go to the serving line. Get your food and sit down. Eat and don’t get into trouble. I’ll be back for you in fifteen minutes.”

  She nodded her understanding and walked through the doors. Her guard didn’t follow. There was probably a separate cafeteria for the people who belonged. There were maybe a dozen people, all wearing the same attire as she did, seated around the four tables. When she stepped up to the serving line, the man behind the counter grabbed a plastic tray and dumped beans, bread and something not readily identifiable but green in color onto the tray.


  Sadie accepted the tray and walked toward the tables. Stainless steel water pitchers and cups sat on each table. The other prisoners were male. Not surprising since the number of females she had met were few and far between. The other prisoners eyed her suspiciously as she passed. She caught snatches of conversation about working in the fields or the laundry facility. There was one who sat alone at the table farthest from the serving line. He stared at his plate, visibly forcing his spoon to his mouth, chewing and then repeating.

  Relief swam through Sadie. It was Levi Winters. Even in the baggy sweats and with his head bowed, she recognized him. She headed for his table, pulled out a chair and sat. Before she spoke, she reached for the pitcher and poured herself a glass of what appeared to be water. Just plain water, she hoped. Hopefully not laced with some drug to keep them under control. She still believed the man—Flynn—who had come into her room in the middle of the night had only been able to do so without her knowledge because she had been drugged with a mild sedative.

  When she had downed a bite of bland-tasting beans and dry bread, she glanced at her tablemate. “You okay, Levi?”

  He glanced up at the use of his name, stared at her for a moment. “Do I know you?”

  She shook her head. “My name is Sadie. Your sister Cece sent me.”

  Hope lit in his eyes. “Is she okay?”

  Sadie smiled. “She’s doing great. Her name has been cleared and they’ve sorted the truth about what really happened when your father was murdered.”

  Cece had given Sadie a specific message for Levi. “Cece wanted you to know that everything is fine and none of what happened was your fault. She just wants you safe and back home.”

  His hopeful expression fell, and he stared at his plate once more. “They’ll never let me go.”

  “Do you want to marry the girl?”

  His head came up, his fearful gaze colliding with Sadie’s. “I don’t even know her. Prentiss said when I was a kid my father promised me to him for one of his daughters. He said if I didn’t do exactly what was expected of me they’d put me in the tunnels.” He shook his head, shuddered visibly. “I’ve heard about what happens to the folks who end up down there.”

  Nothing good. Sadie knew this firsthand. She glanced around. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of here. Just stay calm and trust me.”

  A frown furrowed his brow. “I don’t know who you are but you’re crazy if you think we’ll get out of here alive. No one does. You either do what they say, or you’re never seen again.”

  Sadie gave him a reassuring smile. “Like I said, just stay calm. Do as you’re told until I tell you different.”

  His eyes rounded, his attention shifting over her shoulder.

  Sadie glanced back just in time to see a man coming toward her. He didn’t look happy. In fact, he looked angry. She stood, putting herself between Levi and the threat. “You have a problem, pal?”

  The man stopped, evidently surprised that she stood up and faced him. He glared at her. “I’m going into the tunnels, because of you.” He stabbed a finger into her chest. “You’re damn right I have a problem.”

  He called her one of those truly ugly names that no woman ever wanted to be called and then he spit in her face.

  Sadie swiped away the spittle with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “I hate to hear that, but I didn’t make the decision. Mr. Prentiss probably did. Why don’t you take it up with him?”

  His face blanched at the mention of Prentiss’s name. Sadie gave herself a mental pat on the back for the quick thinking.

  The man glared at her a moment longer, then walked back to his table. Sadie dragged her chair around to the end of the table and sat where she could see the rest of the people in the room. She snagged her tray and pulled it down to where she sat and forced herself to eat. Food was necessary to survival. She tasted the water—it seemed okay so she drank it down, quenching the thirst that had been dogging her since she arrived.

  One by one the other prisoners in the cafeteria got up, tray in hand, and readied to leave. On their way to the tray drop, they passed Sadie, flinging whatever food they hadn’t eaten at her.

  She ignored them, kept shoving beans and bread into her mouth. From time to time when the food hit her in the face she flinched, but otherwise she showed no outward sign of discomfort or fear. They were all ticked off at her now. She had been pulled back from the tunnels and one of them was going in. They likely believed it was only because she was a woman. The truth of the matter was, Sadie had no idea why she’d been pulled out of the tunnels. Luck? Not likely.

  “I wish I was as brave as you.”

  Sadie glanced at Levi. She gave him a reassuring smile. “You’re doing pretty damned good, Levi. Cut yourself some slack. And don’t worry, we’ll be out of here before you know it.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

  Judging by his defeated expression he was more worried than relieved to know she was here. “What is it that I don’t understand? I came here to find you and get you out. I will make it happen.”

  He swallowed hard, his throat seizing with the effort. “They’re listening. I couldn’t tell you. I had to do what I was told.” He stood, picked up his tray. “I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

  As Levi walked away Sadie wondered how she had allowed her defenses and her instincts to fail her so thoroughly. She’d made an elementary mistake. One that would likely carry a heavy cost—like her life. She should have considered that Winters would have been brainwashed or indoctrinated to some degree by now.

  “Well, hell.”

  She stood to take her tray to the drop zone but her guard appeared. “Leave it,” he said, his expression as unreadable as his tone.

  Sadie deposited the tray back on the table and followed the guard out of the cafeteria. The corridor was empty. The prisoners who had thrown food at her had either returned to their cells or were back at work. The guard led her back to her cell. He held her gaze a moment before he closed and locked the door. She could swear she saw a glimmer of regret in his eyes.

  If the guard was feeling sorry for her, she was definitely screwed.

  * * *

  Smith stepped out of the shower and dried his body. There had to be a reason he hadn’t been given additional intelligence about Sadie Buchanan via his contact. The name she had tossed out, Trenton Pollard, was a code phrase warning that trouble was headed Smith’s way. But there was nothing else. No message at any of the usual drop sites.

  He pulled on clean jeans and a freshly laundered shirt. The dress code was fairly simple for Council members. They wore whatever they liked. Most moved back and forth between the compound and the outside community. But not Smith. He stayed here. Didn’t take chances by lingering in the community.

  The guards wore the camo while the workers were issued the sweats. Only those in supervisory positions or who served on the Council were allowed to wear civilian attire. The clear distinction was one of the things Flynn hated most about this place...this life.

  No one should be made to feel inferior to others. One’s way of life should be based on choice, not a dictatorship led by one insane, self-centered man. How the hell had so many been drawn into this life? Then again, the world was changing, and those interested numbers were dwindling.

  A knock at his door drew his attention there. He finished lacing his boots and stood. “Enter.”

  The door opened and one of Prentiss’s personal bodyguards, this one named Mitchell, stepped inside.

  “Mr. Prentiss would like to see you in his private quarters.”

  The old man rarely summoned Smith unless there was a Council meeting...or trouble. Smith’s gut said this was the latter.

  “Tell him I’ll be there shortly.”

  Mitchell gave a quick nod, then left, closing the door behind him.

  Smith walked to his desk and ch
ecked the monitor on his laptop. Buchanan was in her cell. Her bandaged hands and clean sweats told him she’d behaved herself during her cleanup. There were no posted complaints of trouble involving her.

  She presented a conundrum. Did he tell her who he was or did he wait for her to admit why she was really here? Her provided story wasn’t cutting it for him. There was something more she was hiding.

  Prentiss hadn’t swallowed it, either. Smith’s move this morning had bought Buchanan a little more time, but he couldn’t be certain how long that time would last. He had hoped to receive word from his contact this morning to give him some sense of direction. His best course of action at this point was to hold out for any intelligence that filtered in over the next few days, assuming the trouble he worried was coming didn’t show first.

  Taking his time, he walked to the final cabin on Council Row and knocked on the door. When his father had been alive, he had lived in cabin one. Prentiss didn’t like the idea of being that available. He wanted the rest of the Council in front of him, like a wall, protecting him from any danger that forced its way into the compound.

  The bastard was a coward.

  “Come in.”

  Smith went inside. The old man sat at his table, a steaming cup of tea in front of him.

  “Join me,” he offered with a wave of his hand.

  Smith pulled out the chair opposite him and settled into it. “I’m good, thanks,” he said, declining the tea.

  Prentiss sipped his tea for a half a minute before saying, “The Council has had a change of heart.”

  Smith remained still, his face clean of tells. “Has there been a vote I wasn’t informed about?”

  Of course there had been. This was how Prentiss conducted business when he wanted something his way. He didn’t bother arguing his point, he simply left out the people he felt would vote against him.

  “It was an emergency and you weren’t available.” His gaze locked with Smith’s. “Apparently you were on a run or a hike. Some communing with nature.”