The Revenge of Dead Horse Canyon

She skewered him with an unflinching look. "What do you want from me?"

He closed the laptop and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"As you're certainly aware, there are people out there who want you dead. I know who they are and they're willing to pay. A lot."

Her eyes narrowed. "So it's about money."

He paused as if he hadn't thought about that before, then eventually nodded. "Pretty much."

"So it doesn't matter where it comes from? Them? Or me?"

He held her gaze. "Yes and no. It's simpler if I kill you and collect on the contract. That way you can't identify me. With a seven-figure bounty on your pretty head, there would be plenty of suspects."

Her breaths came rapid and shallow as a renewed wave of fear fell upon her as phantom in the dark of night. His cool demeanor was somehow more frightening than when Johannsen and his band of Rambo wannabes rushed her cabin. Then again, at that time she wasn't alone and her legs hadn't abandoned their post.

“What if, uh, what if I promise not to identify you? Pay my own ransom?"

"That's why you're still alive."

The glimmer of hope was short lived, disappearing as sparks spewing from an open fire. "How do I know you won’t kill me anyway?”

He leaned back in his chair and laughed. "You'll have to trust me."

"Yeah, right," she said, rolling her eyes. "That's a classic line if I ever heard one."

He took out his phone, swiped the screen a few times, then got up and handed it to her. “Here. Check this out.”

Her heart seized up.

A photo of her on the patio at her father's, sitting in her mother's old wheelchair. Taken from an elevated vantage point.

How?

A drone?

He loomed beside her. “Just so you know. I had you in the sights of my .308. I just want the money, Sara. Either from the people who have a price on your head or directly from you.”

Her hand shook as she handed it back, any composure she'd displayed so far stolen. She'd been the proverbial sitting duck, blissfully unaware of mortal danger. She swallowed hard, heart racing, defying her best efforts to suppress her reaction.

"Maybe you plan to collect both," she said, voice tremulous.

He exhaled through his nose. "Tempting, true. But too much trouble. I don't even know if they'd pay up."

"Who's they? And who are you?"

He pulled over the footrest from his chair and sat beside her. "I can't tell you that."

"Why not? Don't I have the right to know who wants me dead?"

He wore a condescending look that implied she was dumb as a rock. "What would you do if I told you? Call the FBI? You're public enemy number one with just about everyone in D.C. I guarantee absolutely no one there would help you."

"So they hired you?"

"No. They hired Keller. But he didn't finish the job. He's locked up on conspiracy charges. He's heading back to prison real soon."

She cocked her head, confused. "Who's Keller? I thought the guy trying to kill me was Eddie Johannsen."

"He worked for Keller."

"Oh." She exhaled slowly. "So who are you?"

"Right now?" He smiled. "I'm your best friend and worst enemy."

"Haha. Don't you have a name?" She shot him another sour look.

He laughed so hard he snorted. "Several, actually. An entire Rolodex full. Which one would you like?"

"Your real one." Her eyes narrowed. "Are you Keller's handler?"

He paused, eyes steady. "Actually, yes. Helped out a few times. Bunch of over-confident amateurs."

"Huh. Exactly what my father said."

"When they got outside their skill set, I provided the necessary resources."

"Nice. So where'd they get the poison? From what I heard it was pretty exotic stuff."

"Designer poison dated back to the Cold War. Years ago, some KGB agent needed money to defect. Got it cheap. Been sitting in a CIA warehouse in Maryland."

A volatile mix of fury and outrage fired through her like the IEDs Bryan told her about when he was on active duty. Too much to contain, she spat out the words, fingernails impaling the wheelchair's padded armrests.

"You? They got it from you? Oh, my God! You did this to me? You rotten beast!"

He held up his hands. "Listen. I just gave it to Johannsen. Told him how to use it. Apparently, he messed up—again—or you'd be dead."

"Lucky me," she snarled.

"It was nothing personal, Sara."

"Yeah, yeah. Just doing your job." She ground her teeth.

"Exactly."

"What is wrong with you, doing this to people?" she yelled, fury accelerating like pure oxygen feeding a fire. "What kind of horrible person does stuff like that? People like you are what's wrong with this planet!"

He stood there a moment before answering. "I don't know, Sara. At some point we get too far down the rabbit hole. It's a tight place to turn around."