The Safest Lies. Debra Webb

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      The moment he’d been arrested he had shut down like a dying cell phone battery and hadn’t spoken since.

      Anything that might provide clues about a connection between the church and the gunrunning extremist prepper group was long gone. The tunnel between the church and the Winters home was set for demolition. Cecelia mentioned that she intended to sell the place the moment it was released from evidence. She wanted to wash her hands of that ugly past as soon as possible and who could blame her? Based on what Ross had told Sadie, the woman had already paid a high price for standing up against her family.

      Sadie followed the directions she’d been given to find the tunnel area. Mostly she was killing time. The longer she hung out in the area the more likely she was to run into what she was looking for. At least that was the hope. If she were really lucky things would happen as quickly as she hoped.

      Ross had given her a piece of information to use as leverage once she had infiltrated the group. His contact from the ATF insisted this would be immensely useful. She’d gone into missions with less, but this felt a little slim by any measure.

      The entrance to the tunnel was barricaded. Sadie turned and headed back in the direction she’d come. She took the stairs two at a time and returned to the church’s main sanctuary.

      There was nothing else to be done here. She turned for the front entrance and stalled. A man sat on the very back pew. His hair was gray—not the white gray, the silver gray. It poked from beneath a fedora. A full beard did a hell of a job of camouflaging his face. He wore overalls and a button-down, long-sleeved shirt, no matter that it was as hot as hell outside. It was difficult to assess if he was armed. Her view of him from the chest down was blocked by the back of the pew in front of him. From a merely visual perspective he appeared reasonably harmless.

      Sadie, however, was too smart to assume any such thing based on appearances.

      “You must be that missing fed.”

      Though he said this in a low, rusty-with-age voice, it seemed to echo in the hollow sanctuary. Not particularly threatening and yet with simmering power.

      “That’s me. Sadie Buchanan.”

      “I hear you and a fed friend of yours have been looking for me.”

      Obviously, he meant Deacon Ross. “I don’t know about anyone else and I definitely don’t have any friends around here, but I’ve been looking for someone. That’s a fact. Can’t say whether that someone is you.”

      She dared to walk toward him, one step at a time down that long center aisle. The rubber soles of her hiking boots were quiet on the wood floor.

      “What is it you think you’re looking for, Ms. Buchanan? Or should I call you Agent Buchanan?”

      Sadie sat down at the pew in front of him, turned in the hard seat to face him. “Sadie is fine. After yesterday, I doubt that anyone considers me an agent anymore—except maybe for the purposes of prosecution.”

      The story that she was an agent on the run was the best cover she could come up with given the circumstances and the shortness of time.

      “Nine years. Stellar record. Up for promotion,” he said, his gaze steady on hers, “the way I hear it. That’s a lot to give up for whatever it is that brought you here, Sadie.”

      So the man had friends in the right places. Only a handful of people in this town knew her name and none beyond the four with whom she had met in the sheriff’s conference room were aware of her background. She shrugged. “I should have gotten that promotion two years ago. And you’re right, nine years is a long time to watch men like my SAIC write his own definition of justice. Besides, my daddy was a firm believer in a man—or woman—having the right to live his life the way he wanted and to bear arms. I suppose I have him to thank for my hardheadedness.”

      The man’s gaze hardened. “As interesting as this conversation might prove to be, I don’t like wasting my time, Sadie. Why don’t you tell me what it is you think I need to hear?”

      “I appreciate that you looked me up, Mister...?”

      “Prentiss,” he said, “Rayford Prentiss.”

      “Mr. Prentiss,” she acknowledged. “The trouble is—and I mean no offense to you—I really need to speak with the man in charge. It’s urgent. We don’t have a lot of time.”

      He held her gaze for a long moment of thickening silence. “You don’t look like the sort with a death wish,” he finally said.

      Sadie smiled. “Not if I can help it. What I have, Mr. Prentiss, is some information about a joint task force mission that will prove more than a little devastating to the Resurrection. If you and your friends take me in, I’ll give you the heads-up you need to survive the storm that’s coming—assuming you know what I’m talking about and have the authority to take me where I need to go.”

      A crooked smile lifted one corner of his bearded mouth. “First, I know precisely what you mean and I have all the authority I need. The real question is, why on God’s green earth would I believe that foolish story?”

      “Well, my motive is somewhat personal, Mr. Prentiss. I will tell you that I’ve gotten myself into a bit of trouble and I don’t see any ready way out, so this looks like as good an option as any other. My daddy always said planning for the future was smart business. I need to disappear for a little while, Mr. Prentiss. I think you and your friends can make that happen. You do me a favor and I’ll do one for you.”

      Prentiss chuckled. “I really am flummoxed, Sadie. You appear quite sincere and yet I’m not certain I believe you. Be that as it may, we’ll play your little game. After all, it took considerable courage to start this thing.” His gaze settled heavily on her and this time there was no mistaking the promise there. “Rest assured, whatever this is, if you’re lying to me, you will not like how this ends.”

      “Great.” Sadie pushed a smile into place and sat up straight. “Then we have a deal.”

      Another of those long moments of silence elapsed with him staring at her. “It appears we do.”

      He raised a hand and people seemed to come out of the woodwork. Four men, all armed. “My friends will see to your transportation. Goodbye, Sadie.”

      When he stood and walked away, she couldn’t help wondering if this mission would end right here, right now. These guys could kill her and no one would ever know exactly what happened, much less who did the deed.

      Wasn’t that the way it always was?

      The door closed behind Prentiss and she stood, glanced from fierce face to fierce face. “So, who’s driving?”

      “Take off your clothes,” the one nearest her said.

      She laughed. “I never take off my clothes on the first date.”

      He aimed his weapon at her. “Take them off now.”

      One of his pals stepped forward and tossed a bag on the floor at the end of her pew.

      “There are clothes in the bag,” the one who appeared to be in charge and who held his aim steady on her announced.

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