Retribution

As with most days, William Parker rose and left the lodge well before dawn.

Unlike other days, however, this time he wasn’t coming back. Nor was he packing for a normal trip. In fact, in his top dresser drawer he left his watch, wallet, and all of his other personal possessions.

This should be interesting, Parker thought as he drove away from the darkened lodge. The thought of some state trooper stopping him and his explaining that he didn’t have a lick of identification amused him as he descended the mountain.

Clark has Stidham’s number.

Comforting as far as her safety went, though no emotional consolation for either of them. He thought of her, still in bed, pretending to be asleep, and he began to regret his decision. They hadn’t said anything about it the night before. She didn’t want him to go, but she also knew it would be a mistake to do anything but let him complete the mission.

Parker shook his head and reminded himself it was too late to rethink the situation. No, all that mattered now was that if Clark needed help, Shane Stidham would move heaven and earth to assist her.

Parker pulled his truck out onto the highway, heading north. A deep ache began to throb in his shoulder. He squeezed his fist, again, and then a third time.

Like all wounded, Parker knew when the barometer was dropping.

North to Atlanta. Leave the truck there in long-term parking. He laughed. Maybe very long-term.

Parker didn’t want anything that could be trailed back to the lodge. A flight with his twin airplane might leave a record on the several Internet sites that tracked the movement of aircraft. From Atlanta, Scott would have a Gulfstream waiting at the FBO.

No trace, no trail.

Every move involved some level of risk. Parker knew that. It didn’t bother him. William Parker wasn’t a fearful man.

He rubbed his face and the stubble of his new, growing beard with one hand as he drove past the Chevron station in Cusseta. Pickups had stopped at each of the pumps, coughing up clouds of exhaust in the cold, predawn morning. Several had trailers with four-wheelers, all heading toward the woods, all trying to get to their deer stands well before the first light.

And Sadik Zabara? Parker thought as he headed north.