Callum took a quick glance at his rearview mirror as he maneuvered his SUV down the narrow two-lane road that wound around Prescott Mountain. Had there been another car back there at the last curve? Had someone been in the parking lot and saw what was happening? Or was it just the sun casting shadows through the trees?
“Slow down,” Quintero warned.
Her pistol was still pushing against his seat. Barely enough to feel the pressure against his back, but enough to remind him it was there.
“If we end up in a ditch, I swear I’ll shoot you.” Her voice was as shaky as her hands had been on her gun earlier.
She probably would shoot him if he wrecked, whether she meant to or not. She didn’t have the sense to keep her finger on the gun’s frame instead of the trigger to avoid accidentally firing the pistol. That was the first thing he’d noticed when she’d stood in his open door. It was the only reason he hadn’t immediately tackled her.
“I mean it.” She jabbed the pistol harder. “Be careful.”
“I’ll slow down when you quit digging your gun into my back. And while we’re at it, unless you plan on shooting me while I’m driving, move your finger from the trigger to the gun frame. It’s safer that way. For both of us.”
In the rearview mirror he caught her look of surprise. She glanced down, presumably at her gun. The pressure on his back eased. He hoped that meant she’d moved her finger off the trigger too. She was obviously a novice around guns, which only made her more dangerous.
As they passed the turnoff he’d have taken to go home, he eased his foot off the accelerator, slowing down as she’d requested. It wasn’t necessary. He knew every curve of this mountain and how fast he could safely go without skidding into a guardrail. Wherever she lived there must not be any mountains, as skittish as she seemed.
“Better?” He gentled his voice, wanting her to feel less threatened, less anxious, even though he intended to take that gun away from her at the first viable opportunity.
She wiped some sweat from her brow. “Better.” Her striking green eyes met his in the rearview mirror. “Thank you,” she added grudgingly, as if she couldn’t help herself.
He nodded, noting that her hand had still been shaking when she’d wiped her brow. Abducting people wasn’t something she was comfortable with. He wished he’d researched her after their brief discussion earlier this morning. If he had, he’d at least have some background information. Maybe he could have used that to his advantage. But he’d forgotten about her when he’d stepped inside and fellow investigator Asher Whitfield had pulled him into a meeting about the serial killer cold case they were working together.
Given her brother’s history, it was surprising that there was nothing about Raine that screamed criminal. In his experience, when one sibling was a murderer, the other was often intimately familiar with the wrong side of the law as well. And yet, he was willing to bet the most serious offense on her record before today was speeding.
In spite of his anger over her putting him in this situation, he couldn’t help admiring her loyalty to her family and her willingness to risk everything to try to save her brother. Too bad for her that saving him was probably impossible.
Thirteen years on death row meant he’d likely exhausted most, if not all, of his appeals. His last resort would be a grant of clemency from the governor—assuming the governor of Georgia had that authority. Callum wasn’t familiar with Georgia’s laws regarding overturning convictions or granting stays of execution. As a cop, his focus had always been on putting the bad guys away, not getting them out.
That’s what lawyers did.
He didn’t know why she believed he might be able to even speak to anyone with authority over her brother’s situation. Politicians weren’t part of his social circle. And he didn’t know the governor of any state.
His friend Noah Reid might have some pull with the governor of Georgia. He held an executive position in their Department of Corrections. But was Reid in a position to influence the fate of a death row inmate? Callum rather doubted it.
His boss, Grayson Prescott, had a handful of governors on speed dial and no doubt held considerable sway. But any hope that he’d speak on Raine’s brother’s behalf had ended the second she’d pulled a gun on one of his investigators.
Regret gnawed at Callum as he glanced at her in the mirror. Her shoulder-length dark hair accentuated her pale complexion. She was obviously scared, even though she was the one with the gun. She must have felt like she had no choice after he’d refused to give her one hour of his time. That’s all she’d requested. And he’d been too busy to bother. Maybe this was his wake-up call to pay more attention to the pain of those around him instead of immersing himself in his work. Too bad it had come too late to save Raine Quintero from the consequences of her rather drastic actions.
They were getting close to the bottom of the mountain. Soon, the road would end and he’d have to turn. Left, toward town, where the tourists were no doubt clogging River Road, frequenting the little shops and restaurants. Or they could turn right toward the more rural part of the area without the kinds of attractions that drew hordes of out-of-towners.
To Callum’s thinking, the rural part was the most beautiful and worth seeing. But if that’s where she wanted to go, it meant driving farther away from the possibility of someone noticing them and realizing he was in trouble.
Unless the shadow on the road earlier wasn’t a shadow.
He checked the rearview mirror again. No one behind them. Raine’s reflection showed her frowning, then glancing over her shoulder.
“What are you looking at?” she asked.
“You. We’re going to come to a stop sign soon. It would be easier for me to drive if I know where to go.”
Her frown eased. “West. Turn right at the sign.”
He nodded, unsurprised but disappointed. Without the sights and sounds of traffic and people around, it would be harder to catch her off guard. Then again, it also meant less risk to innocent bystanders, so it was probably for the best. He’d bide his time, do what he could to keep her calm and thinking she was completely in control of the situation.
Then he’d take her gun.
His cell phone beeped in his pocket.
She sat up straighter. “What’s that?”
He sighed and pulled out the phone. “Someone’s calling from the office. If I don’t answer, they’ll get suspicious.”
She chewed her bottom lip, then pressed the gun into the back of the seat again. “Remember what I said. Your life, and the life of anyone you try to warn, is at risk. Put the call on speaker and get off as quickly as possible, without pulling any stunts.”
Being on speaker would make it difficult to alert anyone. He’d have to wing it and see if there was anything he could do to let them know he was in trouble and where he was. He pressed the speaker button on the phone and held it up in the air beside him.
“Callum. You’re on speaker.”
“Hey, it’s Thomas. Everything okay? I thought we were going to review those files at your house, but you’re either not home or ignoring the doorbell.”
He glanced at Raine before answering. “Sorry, forgot I had another appointment out of town.”
The gun shoved harder against the seat at his out of town reference. She was smart. He’d have to remember that.
“I won’t be back for a while,” he said. “You might as well head to your house and start without me.” Which would take him in the same direction that she’d just told Callum to go.
“Do you have an ETA on when I can expect you?” Thomas asked.
Raine shook her head, her hair bouncing on her shoulders.
“Hard to say. I really couldn’t guess,” Callum answered.
She made a rolling motion with her right hand, letting him know to hurry. They’d just reached the stop sign so he braked and made sure no one was coming before pulling out.
“I’ve got to go, Thomas. Again, sorry for the mix-up. Talk to you later.” He pressed a button on the side of the phone and set it in the console, facedown.
She let out a deep breath, an expression of relief on her face.
“Where to now, Ms. Quintero? Or should I call you Raine? If you’re trusting me to help your brother, we should be on a first-name basis.”
“We’re not friends. Ms. Quintero is fine.” She motioned toward the road. “Just keep going straight. I’ll let you know when to turn again.”
“Can you at least give me a guesstimate on mileage? I’ve got less than a quarter tank of gas.”
She leaned over, peering at the dash. “What kind of miles-per-gallon does this thing get?”
“I’ve probably got enough fuel to go about seventy miles, give or take. Half that if this is a round trip. Less if we climb up into the mountains.”
“We should be okay. We’ve only got about twelve more miles to go and we’re staying in the valley.”
When she sat back, he glanced toward his phone to double-check that the screen wasn’t visible. He didn’t want her to realize that all he’d done was press the button to silence the ringer. He hadn’t ended the call.
And he didn’t work with anyone named Thomas.