Chase had left her alone after trying to reassure her and even offering a half apology for some of his comments. She lay on the bed still, staring at the sky through the window. If only her thoughts would permit some kind of organization – some kind of rational acceptance for her emotions. She heard some sounds from behind her, and rolling over, she saw Chase cleaning a wicked looking rifle.

"Where did you get that?" She sat up on one elbow.

"The owner here is a friend of a friend. I've done business with him before."

"Isn't that risky? I mean using people you know? Wouldn't my uncle have that information?"

He smiled at her. "Possibly, but I'm pretty sure we're clean here."

"Pretty sure?" She sat up, tugging her skirt down over her knees.

He set the gun aside and wiped his hands on the cloth he was using. "Doc will be doing the same thing he did before. City wide CCTV. Communications, Transportation, and manpower, all searching for us."

"They may have seen us already."

"I'm sure they did, but they lost us. Don't ask, just trust me." He deflected another objection. "I can't get to him on his turf, he's too well protected, especially since he knows I'm after him. So, I have to plan for him coming after us."

Paula's mouth dropped open and her eyes grew wide. "You mean you'd let that happen!"

"It's not a question of letting him, it's what he'll do."

"And where am I during all this- this planning?"

"With me - but that's your choice." He finished checking the weapon and then retrieved a phone from his pack.

"Who are you calling?"

"Your uncle."

******

Doc sat at his study desk, one hand still resting on the telephone receiver. The call had been brief and succinct. A smirk shaped his mouth as he thought back to all the sanctions he had relegated to Chase over the years, only to have the one on his niece be the dealbreaker. It might have been forgiven if he hadn't revealed his connection to the CIA – but that was on him – foolish, but at the time . . .

He shook off his regret and summoned his team for a meeting.

"He called you!" Corbette sank into a chair in front of the desk and traded a surprised glance with Deware. "This guy has some stones."

"Believe it." Doc laced his fingers on the desk in front of him and looked at his men. "He came back for one purpose, and he's just letting me know."

"What did he say? Did you get a trace?" Deware sat forward.

"It was from a burner. We have a location area, but that doesn't mean that's where he's hiding. Knowing Chase he made the call from a car or a bus or something moving, and the phone would be rubble the minute he hung up."

"But we're checking the location anyway." Corbett stated.

"Of course." Doc passed the information across the desk. "Both of you – and don't take anything for granted." He sat back with a deep sigh. "I'll focus sources on the area meanwhile."

Both men stood and turned to go, pausing at Doc's last words. "If you do find him . . . red pencil."

******

Paula sat on the only chair, in the corner of the room, watching Chase load the rifle and check the mechanism. How had she been such a blind fool getting mixed up with him again? Had she really been in danger, or was it all part of his plan to get her uncle for his own reasons. She frowned, shaking her head. No, why get her down there only to come back here, he could have come back any time? Was he really doing this to protect me? She suddenly remembered the news about Sanford, and a feeling of hopelessness came over her.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, setting the rifle aside.

She looked at him in disbelief. "How can you think of food?"

"Easy, what are you thinking of?"

"I--" She fumbled for a reply, failing and slumping, fingers of one hand over her eyes.

"I'll be back in half an hour. I'll bring a small selection." He grabbed his jacket and headed to the door.

"Wait! You can't just leave me here?"

"You'll be fine. Half an hour - stay put." The door closed behind him with a thunk.

The finality of that sound froze her in the chair, and she gripped the arm rests with white knuckles. Half an hour! What do I do? What if someone comes? Her eyes darted about the room, landing on the rifle, and she stood on shaky legs and made her way to the bed. She picked it up and put it right back down; it was heavy. She sat and studied the mechanism, recalling what he showed her about the hand gun. There was the trigger, she touched it lightly. That little thing must be the safety he described.

She sat back in disgust. "What am I thinking!" The bed bounced slightly as she flopped down, and bounced again as the room phone rang. Her instinct was to answer, but she began conjuring all kinds of dangerous scenarios and what ifs. Was it Chase? She could pick up and not say anything. Doubt kept her fixed to the bed. It kept ringing. I could *57 the call. Would a motel have that service? It rang again.

Gingerly, she picked it up and stayed silent. A moment later a voice said, "Hello, Paula, It's uncle Emile." Covering a small gasp, she dropped the phone as the door opened and Chase entered. Immediately he picked it up, listening. "Tell Chase I'm looking forward to meeting him very soon."

"Tell me yourself, Doc." He heard a curse as the call ended. "What did he say?" Chase squatted down in front of Paula, taking her hands.

"I didn't say a word, I just picked it up." She pleaded.

"What did he say?"

"He just said it was Uncle Emile . . . he said hello Paula, but I swear, I never spoke."

He stood up and went to the window, scanning the back property.

"Couldn't you trace the call with one of those phone codes? I was thinking of it when- just before--"

"We aren't dealing with scammers, Paula. His call would have been blocked before he even dialed. What bothers me, is how did he get the motel number?"

"Should we leave?"

He came back to the bed and opened the bag he'd brought. "There's a toasted everything bagel, some fries, an egg salad sandwich, or just coffee. You choose."

"Choose! You're going to just sit there and- and . . . picnic - while our lives are in danger!"

"Okay, I'll take the bagel." He left the rest on the bed for her and went back to the window, his mind rolling over all the possibilities for how Doc got the number.

Paula stood and stomped toward him. "Chase! This is not funny. What are we going to do?"

"Drink the coffee, eat the food, get a grip on our emotions, and then consider our options." He brushed past her and popped the cap off his coffee.