Rob’s truck crawled up the road, and he swung into a gravel turnout. “I’m gonna check it out. Stay in the truck.”
Rob dragged his weapon from beneath his seat and holstered it as he got out of the vehicle.
He’d pulled up behind the wrecked car at a crazy angle off the road, so Libby released her seat belt and scooted up in her seat to peer over the dashboard. A feather of fear whispered across the back of her neck as she watched him cautiously approach the damaged vehicle.
He’d left his headlights on to illuminate the scene, and Libby’s gaze traveled from Rob to the car—an old white sedan, Wildcats sticker on the back window. Just like Troy’s car.
Gasping, she braced her hands against the dashboard. It was Troy’s car. She grabbed the door handle and scrambled out of the truck, her feet slipping on the gravel below.
She stalked toward Rob, now leaning forward, his face at the window—the shattered window. Her heart pounded, the blood ringing in her ears. “Rob!”
He spun around, his face white against the black backdrop of the desert night. “Stay back, Libby.”
Her adrenaline spurred her forward, her feet barely able to keep pace with her intent. She rushed to the car and loomed over Rob’s shoulder, gawking at the sight of Troy Paulsen—dead in the front seat, a bullet wound in his head.
Chapter Eighteen
Libby choked behind him, and Rob turned and grabbed her by the shoulders. “You don’t need to see this, Libby. Go back to the truck. Hurry.”
He looked around the scene, the desert floor cloaked in darkness. They could still be here. They could be anywhere.
He shook Libby’s rigid frame. “Wait in the truck. I’m gonna check things out, and then I’m going to call it in. If the highway patrol can’t get here fast enough, we’re not going to wait. We’re getting out of here.”
Her head snapped up. “It was them, wasn’t it? The same people who are after me, the people trying to protect EGV, killed Troy.”
“Probably. That’s why you have to get out of here. Duck down and lock the doors. The keys are still in the ignition. If anything happens out here, take off.”
“And leave you? I’ll mow them over with the truck first.”
He landed a kiss on her forehead. “Not if they’re shooting at you. Go.”
She shuffled her feet and then turned and ran back to the truck.
Troy’s door had been left ajar, so Rob nudged it open with his foot. They probably didn’t want to make the same mistake they’d made with Libby. They wanted to make sure they killed their target this time.
He leaned into the car across Troy’s body and studied the center console. A coffee cup occupied one of the cup holders and some loose change the other. Rob snatched up some receipts and scraps of paper. He didn’t want to dismiss anything and possibly ignore any potential evidence.
He eased the door back into position and went around to the passenger side, shading his eyes and glancing back at the truck. No silhouette of Libby in the window, so she’d taken his advice and slumped in the seat.
Using his T-shirt to cover his hand, he opened the passenger door and ducked his head inside the car, his nose wrinkling at the smell of blood and death. He couldn’t say he’d gotten accustomed to the smell, but at least he no longer puked like he had the first time he’d seen a headless body at the border. That body had been Libby’s mother.
His gut knotted but he continued his search of the car. It wasn’t here. They’d taken Troy’s phone.
He dug his own phone from his pocket and called 911, the only call he could make out here. “I want to report a single-car accident about a mile and a half north of mile marker nine. The driver is dead.”
After making the call, Rob stalked back to the truck and slid behind the wheel. He handed Libby the papers he’d retrieved from Troy’s console. “Can you make any sense out of these?”
“Let me see.” She hit the dome light button with her knuckle and dropped the slips of paper in her lap. “Did you find out anything?”
“I found out they took Troy’s phone.”
Libby’s hands froze and one of Troy’s receipts floated to the floor. “Then they know he texted me, and they saw my response that I picked up my phone. You were right. I should’ve never answered him.”
“If Troy’s even the one who texted you. It could’ve been one of them, testing the waters.” He picked up her phone in the cup holder and handed it to her. “What time did you get that text from Troy’s phone?”
She grabbed her phone and tapped the display. “At seven thirty.”
He glanced at the time glowing on his dashboard. “It’s almost nine o’clock now. We’ve been on the road for about forty-five minutes, which means we left the campsite around eight fifteen.”
“It could’ve been Troy.” Libby held out her hand and ticked off each finger. “Troy texts me at seven thirty, gets killed ten minutes later, and then Zeke sees the accident at seven forty and hits the campsite thirty minutes later?”
“He must’ve been driving awfully fast.”
“He was on a motorcycle. He knows the lay of the land.”
Rob placed a hand on Libby’s bouncing knee. “Who are you trying to convince? It doesn’t matter whether they sent the text or not. Even if Troy had sent it, they have his phone and they’ve seen the text exchange.”
She held the phone in her lap. “Should I text him again? Play along like I haven’t seen the accident, don’t know Troy’s dead?”
He didn’t like the idea of Libby texting with a bunch of killers. “What would you text?”
“I would text him that the phone contains no information, no pictures, no names, no nothing. That it’s useless and I remember nothing.”
Rob expelled a ragged
