“They’re lining up in front of the tiny houses.” Boone’s voice was rough. “Montague is going to do some kind of synchronized demolition, isn’t he? Is Fulsom in on this? I bet he is. I bet he planned this ending all along. Maybe he kidnapped Avery—”
“I don’t think so.” Someone with a lot of money and the desire for a lot more set this up. Fulsom was a billionaire and a real piece of work sometimes, but Walker thought he genuinely wanted to leave things better when he was gone.
“This is Marla Stone, reporting from Base Camp in Chance Creek, Montana,” a familiar voice said on-screen.
“Is that Star News?” Walker asked in surprise.
“You got it.”
“How the hell did they end up at Base Camp?”
“They’re working with Montague—they have to be. He must have lured them out there.” Boone swore again.
“They can’t start demolishing anything until after midnight.”
“Tell that to Montague.”
Marla was still talking. “Viewers around the world have watched this group of deluded men and women try to block progress by taking on the clothing of our ancestors and living like prisoners in barely habitable tiny houses.”
“For the love of all that’s holy,” Boone growled.
“Led by Boone Rudman, who has been accused of having a God complex more than once by viewers,” the woman went on. “It’s his wife, Riley, who I’m really sorry for, though. Did you know this property should have been hers? Stolen out from under her by the ruthless leftist agitator Martin Fulsom, this ranch has been in her family for generations. When Fulsom’s henchman, Boone, arrived to kick her out of her home, Riley had no choice but to marry him. It’s obvious she’s been miserable ever since.”
“She’s not miserable!” Boone exclaimed. “Is she miserable?” He turned to Walker.
“Now this miscreant of a husband is going to lose her property and her heart. It’s the final hour of the last day of their chance to win this ranch and all the buildings on it, and where is everyone? Gallivanting around the countryside from what we’ve heard. Base Camp’s inhabitants have one task left to achieve their goal: get Walker Norton to the altar with the woman of his choice. But there’s no wedding happening here. No wedding happening anywhere, as far as we can tell. Which means on the strike of midnight, Montague’s bulldozers will start their engines, and Base Camp will be toast.”
“Walker,” Boone said, and Walker knew exactly what his friend was thinking. They were about to lose their homes, everything they’d built, everything Riley loved—and Boone would do anything for Riley.
But Walker had to think of Avery now. He had to put her first. He never had before, and now it was almost too late.
The blonde announcer gave a shriek, capturing Walker’s attention again as Riley appeared on-screen and grabbed the microphone off her lapel.
“What the hell is Riley doing there?” Boone sputtered.
“Walker, Boone,” Riley said into the microphone. “We got a head’s up about Montague’s plans. We’re here, but don’t worry—no ranch is worth anything compared to the life of my friend. You bring Avery home. We’ll stop Montague.”
The show cut quickly to a commercial break. Walker spared a glance at Boone as he pulled into the parking lot of the Evergreen Motel.
“We’re going to have to go door to door.”
“Right. Yeah.” Boone was still staring at his screen. He shook his head, lifted the phone and tapped it. “Cab? Boone here. There are bulldozers at Base Camp—” He cut off. Listened. “Okay, thanks, glad you’re on it. We think Avery’s somewhere near the Dancing Boot. We’re going door to door. You sure you searched the motel?” He listened. “Okay, we’ll cross the street and start there.” He cut the call. “Cab’s got men on the way to Base Camp. The rest of them will meet us.”
“Let’s go.”
“We’re fine,” Owen said. “We’re going to be fine. No one’s going to listen to all that wishy-washy crap. Those senators know which side their bread is buttered on.”
“Shut up,” Mr. Smith said. “We’re fucked no matter what. We need a plan.”
Owen drew his Glock and pointed it at Avery. “I say our plan should be to put a cap in this one. More trouble than she’s worth.”
Avery drew back against the bedframe and braced herself, but Mr. Smith knocked Owen’s hand aside. “Put that away, shut the fuck up and start using your head. She’s our ticket to safety. We’ll use her to get across the border. Lay low for a while in Mexico.”
“Hell, I don’t want to go to Mexico.”
“I don’t really care.”
Mr. Smith flipped the channel on the television. During a lull in the proceedings, he’d found the Base Camp live feed on Star News. Ever since, he’d been switching back and forth between the two. “What the hell is that?” Avery saw a line of bulldozers lined up in front of the tiny houses on-screen. Mr. Smith laughed. “Gotta hand it to these guys; they know how to put on a show.” He turned to Avery. “They tell you ahead of time they were going to do this?”
She shook her head. She wasn’t sure she could speak if she tried. Where had all those bulldozers come from?
“This is a surprising turn of events.” The announcer seemed to be wrestling with Riley and finally yanked what looked like a tiny clip-on microphone out of her hands. “The women of Base Camp, who’ve been searching for their missing friend, Avery Lightfoot, have just arrived back.”
Someone off-camera yelled. Avery thought it was Savannah. Riley whirled to see and then darted out of view.
Marla, the Star News announcer, watched her go. “They’re linking their arms and standing in front of the tiny houses. They’re actually going to try and stop the bulldozers.” The camera moved to follow her pointed finger.
“No!” Avery cried. “Riley, get out of there!”
What if the bulldozers didn’t stop?
She cried out again when Mr. Smith switched back to C-SPAN. “The presentation’s over. They’re fucking
