Travis glanced at Cavanaugh. She must have seen this coming; she remained calm. “For how long?”
“As long as necessary. It’s just a precautionary measure. After this all blows over, if we determine that there’s no continuing danger, she can come out of hiding. If she wants. Think of it as an extended vacation.”
Travis nodded. She would be safe until Mario got his dogs back in the kennel. But …
Cavanaugh seemed to be reading Travis’s mind. “Can I bring my friend Travis undercover with me?”
“Is he going to testify?” Henderson asked.
“Not if we can avoid it,” Blaisdell replied.
Cavanaugh stepped forward and took Henderson’s hand. “Please,” she said quietly.
“Well,” Henderson said, clearing his throat, “FBI policy wouldn’t permit you to bring a friend. But you could certainly bring your husband. …”
SATURDAY
June 29
77
6:45 P.M.
TRAVIS ARRANGED THE FIREWOOD, the leaves, and the scrap paper in a proper campfire formation, then waited patiently. The instant Cavanaugh turned her back, he whipped out a lighter and started the fire.
Cheating? True. But despite being a Boy Scout for five years, he had never managed to get the hang of that rubbing-two-sticks-together routine. Working with a flint was even more difficult. It had been such a pleasant, peaceful four days out at Robbers’ Cave; he didn’t want to spoil it with petty aggravations.
“Hey, you got the fire started,” Cavanaugh said. She sat down and snuggled next to him. “Congratulations.”
“It was nothing.” At least he couldn’t be called a liar.
She grinned. “You’re my hero.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s easy, Cav—” He closed his eyes. “I mean, Daisy.”
“Takes some getting used to, doesn’t it? Harvey,” she added.
“Yeah. But I’ll get it down.”
“No rush. We have lots of time.” She put her arms around him.
“I feel great. My blood pressure and ulcer are under control, and I’ve dropped ten pounds. Despite your cooking.” He smiled. “You miss your job?”
“Nah. You?”
“Not much. Miss your friends?”
She hugged him tightly. “Not when I’m with you.”
He returned her embrace. “Ditto.”
“Is Mary Jo still fishing?” she asked.
“I certainly hope so. This fire is ready to cook, and I for one am tired of canned beans.” He pulled Cavanaugh to her feet. “Let’s check on her.”
They walked hand in hand to the bank of the lake, only a few hundred feet from their campsite. Staci was standing near the edge, bracing herself against a tree. Both hands were clenched tightly to her fishing pole.
“Look!” Travis said. “I think she’s actually caught something this time!”
“Of course I’ve caught something!” Staci shouted. “He’s a gigantic rainbow trout—the biggest I’ve ever seen. I’ve been trying to reel him in for ten minutes.”
Travis ran up behind her. “You should have called for help.”
“I’ve been yelling for help, but you two were probably too busy making moony eyes at each other to notice.”
“Is that so?” Travis waved his hands dramatically over the edge of the bank. “Now watch this. I’m going to make the fish jump into my lap.”
“No more magic tricks!” Cavanaugh and Staci shouted in unison.
Cowed, Travis braced himself behind Staci and grabbed the fishing pole. Cavanaugh stood behind him, reaching under his arms to add her support. As the sun dipped below the horizon, they were all pulling together, laughing and shouting, a newborn family frolicking under assumed names.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ONCE AGAIN, I WANT to thank those who have made me seem much more knowledgeable than I really am: Trey Matheny, for his extensive telecommunications background and the first-person tour of WilTel switching facilities; Arlene Joplin, for everything you ever wanted to know about federal criminal law but felt stupid asking; Dave Johnson, for his insights on police procedure and the criminal community; Gail Benedict, for whipping my manuscripts into shape and putting up with endless confusing revisions; F.W. “Steve” Stephenson, for his unwavering support; and my wife, Kirsten, for virtually everything else.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
copyright © 1995 by William Bernhardt
cover design by Jason Gabbert
978-1-4532-7721-8
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