“I’m just getting my phone,” Nancy says as she slowly pulls it out of her. “I tracked Damien with my app, and it led me here.”
“Explain,” I say.
“I tracked his phone,” Sylvia says.
“He was held captive. He doesn’t have it,” I say.
“I have it,” Sylvia says. She walks over to where she had been sleeping and pulls it from her purse. “I turned it on earlier to check the time.”
Harding approaches Nancy. “Put your hands in front of you.”
She does, and Harding quickly zip-ties them together.
“What the hell?” Nancy says.
“I don’t know you, which means I can’t trust you,” Harding says as she pats Nancy down. Then Harding inspects her car. “No weapons.”
Harding grabs Damien’s phone out of Sylvia’s hand. “We need to get the hell out of here. Now,” she says. “If she tracked him, someone else may have as well.” She throws the device on the ground and crushes it. There really wasn’t a point to that except to let Sylvia know how pissed she is. If it is being tracked, it’s too late to stop it now.
“I need to use the bathroom before we go,” Sylvia says.
“I’ll come with you,” Harding says.
“No, I’ll just go behind the trees over there.” She walks away before Harding can say no.
“I got her,” Moose says as he joins Sylvia and walks into the woods.
“I gotta go, too,” Damien says.
I follow Damien.
He goes around a tree and glances at me. “You going to watch?”
I turn my back to him. “Make it fast.”
A shot rings out. I spin around and grab Damien, taking him to the ground with me.
“Shit!” Moose yells.
“What’s going on?” I yell back.
“I fell into some kind of trap,” he says. “Fuck!”
I sit up just a little to inspect Damien. That’s when I see it. He’s been shot in the head, and he’s dead.
Sylvia runs over and sees Damien. “They shot him! Those bastards shot him!” she screams.
I grab her and carry her to the other side of the tree.
“Durango! Where are you?” Harding yells.
“I’m here,” I shout back. “Damien is dead.”
Harding runs through the trees into view.
I nod to the other side of the tree. “We were over there.”
“Where’s Moose?” she asks.
