By the time the sun had set, Kathryn and Tim had come to an agreement on how to proceed the following day. First, they would hike back to the place they had designated as the exchange location and Tim would setup. He would keep watch while Kathryn returned to his car and drove it to the parking area they believed their fishermen friends hailed from at the nearest campsite. According to the park map, it was on the other side of the waterway across the road. While it might be difficult to cross, it would also provide them with much faster access to their vehicle when they needed to leave, and accessing it during the day would offer an opportunity for Kathryn to identify any additional players who might be involved.

They still weren't sure the exact time the truck would be coming through. Kathryn had assumed it would be closer to evening, but not too dark, since the road had no lights, and Tim agreed with her. That still left several hours and no way for them to narrow their timeframe any further. If they were right, hopefully Tim would have enough light to neatly take out any undesirable personnel, as well as provide them enough time to secure the contents of the truck before it was too dark. While Tim didn't like the idea of splitting up, Kathryn had made a convincing argument for moving the car from a both a security and contingency perspective. If they were wrong and no truck came, it would be a lot easier to hike 4 miles to their car than the more than 15 that currently separated them from their mode of transportation. And knowing whether there were other suspects nearby who might drop in could prove invaluable.

He was glad she had at least agreed there was no need to directly engage with any of their potential targets. Tim felt a lot better this time, knowing she'd be spotting for him and he could safely neutralize anyone who might be a threat. He disliked it when people put themselves needlessly in danger to prove a point.

Now that it was dark and their decisions made, they had settled next to their small fire to rest. It was chilly and Tim had thought himself very gentlemanly when he offered Kathryn his sweater, but she had turned him down emphatically. At least she didn't argue when he suggested they unzip the sleeping bag and use it as a blanket for both of them. They were nestled close against the rock outcropping, shoulder-to-shoulder under the bag, enjoying the radiating warmth of their fire. Tim was staring into the flames, letting his mind drift over tomorrow's itinerary over and over, when he noticed Kathryn had started humming beside him. He looked over and saw that she had pulled up one of her knees and was resting her chin against it as she watched the fire. The tune she was humming sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it.

"What's the word, hummingbird?"

Tim's words snapped her out of her thoughts. Kathryn ducked her head, looking bashful. "Sorry," she said, "I know you're not a fan." He didn't know what she meant, and his face must have said as much. "It's from that album I had on last night. I've had it in my head all day." Tim pitched his brain backward and tried to find the melody, but he couldn't. "I'm not used to silence," she admitted.

Tim wondered whether she often hummed to herself. He loved silence. Had always found peace in the absence of noise. "Sing it," he said, and she laughed at him.

"Not likely, Deputy."

Tim weighed his options and decided to change topics rather than coerce her into singing for him. "Then tell me about Ibsen. Nothing in the info you gave me about those four targets stood out about him at all. Unless you neglected to include some extensive rap sheet, I don't understand what he has to do with this."

Kathryn watched him closely, her head still resting on her knee. The light from the fire made her auburn hair look bright orange, and it threw half of her face into intense shadow, which made it difficult to read her expression. She waited so long to respond that Tim turned back toward the fire, irritated to not receive an answer, but used to her ignoring his questions.

"Ibsen is a groomer," she finally said. "His job is to find vulnerable children and gain their trust in order to prepare them for sex work." Tim looked at her and felt his jaw cement itself into a hard line. "Of all the men in that field, Ibsen is the worst because he's the only one who wasn't in it for power or money." She paused. "He's the only one who truly believes he has done nothing wrong."

Tim took in this information. While he'd had his suspicions following their visit to his house, it was different to know. And he was glad Kathryn hadn't told him earlier because he knew Ibsen would not have survived their encounter if he had. Tim's mind quickly extrapolated the implications of this regarding the truck they were intercepting the next day and let his anger swell and settle in his chest, knowing it would serve him well tomorrow. "What did you say? To Solkov?" he asked. Kathryn quirked an eyebrow and he clarified, "Before I took my first shot, while you were on your knees, you said something with a stupid grin on your face. You thought you were gonna die. What were your last words?"

Kathryn relaxed her leg, leaning back against the rock and letter her eyes focus once more on the fire. "I asked him if he really thought he could hurt so many people and not pay with his own life."

He felt a grin tug at his mouth. "Well, Ms. Kathryn, you really are a badass!"

"Especially since I said it in Russian," she said, and when they made eye contact again, they both laughed.

Tim wondered what his last words would have been any of the times he'd had a brush with death. Admittedly, there were more than a few scenarios to choose from, but he doubted he would have been as eloquent as Kathryn had, in Russian or any other language. He probably would have just shouted Fuck you! or Well, shit. Maybe, he thought, he wouldn't have said anything at all. He was glad none of those times had been his last. He thought perhaps he should consider making his last words really mean something, whenever the time came.

Tim leaned his head back against the rock and closed his eyes. It certainly wasn't a comfortable place to catch a few hours of sleep, but Kathryn had agreed to take the first watch and he decided he'd better get to resting before he missed his chance.

At some point after he'd drifted off, Tim became aware of Kathryn's voice beside him. She was signing softly to herself, "Calm me and let me taste the salt you breathed while you were underneath..." He only caught it briefly; just a moment of consciousness behind closed eyelids, but he decided he liked her voice very much.

#

The evening had been uneventful as they had both hoped and expected, so they packed up early and began their sojourn as soon as there was sufficient light to keep them from breaking an ankle as they maneuvered through the underbrush. They made good time and Tim prowled the ridge three times before choosing a spot he thought gave them the best vantage for the day. Kathryn left him with food and a water bottle, but took his overnight bag and the empty rifle case. She cut an interesting silhouette carrying off three bags into the woods, and he was appreciative that his day didn't require as much hiking as hers did.

Tim was unsurprised when he saw two men dip out of the trees across the way and wade into the stream just after the sun was fully risen around 7:30. He hadn't been close enough the day before to tell whether they were the same men who had been there the day before. He was, however, surprised when he later received separate phone calls from Rachel and Art at almost the same time. Tim spared his phone only the most cursory of glances to make sure it wasn't Kathryn attempting to contact him, and he let both of them go to voicemail.

He was on vacation.

Tim checked his watch and figured Kathryn was probably just about back to his car now. He'd know within a few hours whether she had finally decided to ditch him. Maybe this had all been an elaborate scheme to frame him for the murder of some poor fisherman who was just really bad at his chosen hobby.

All things considered, this was one of the more comfortable days Tim could recall with a sniper rifle in his hands. It was pleasantly warm with a nice early autumn breeze, and his position didn't require any awkward craning of his neck or wedging of his legs in order to maintain a clear view. He wished he had some binoculars, but the scope also got the job done just fine. Even if the night would be bloody, he could appreciate the beautiful day.

Tim had learned a long time ago that it was important to savor the moment you were in. He reflected on that and whether that was part of what he'd enjoyed about his time with Kathryn. The little, stupid moments that had helped distract him from the ruthless and violent nature of that time. He hadn't been particularly drawn to her when she'd first appeared at his office, or even that first night when she'd briefed him. He knew why he'd gone against the orders she'd given him; he had realized a long time ago he knew better than a piece of paper when someone should live or die. But after that? Why had he gone with her, and stayed with her long after she'd told him he was no longer needed?

Why had he ever done a single thing he'd done? He'd enlisted half on a whim as way to get away from his shitty dad, he'd joined the Marshals because a buddy told him he was either gonna be in law enforcement or contract murder after the Rangers. He'd followed Kathryn because something in his gut told him he should. Maybe it was some deeply ingrained dedication to the mission leftover from his time overseas, or his dislike for a puzzle left uncompleted. Maybe it had just been her.

Or maybe there was some other reason he was never going to consider. Whatever the impetus, he was here now, and he was glad. He'd only known Kathryn a few days during which she had shown herself to be capable, single-minded, and even deceptive. He thought a little self-effacingly that he couldn't help if he found that charming, or if her commitment to her cause was infectious. She made him want to care as much as she did. He guessed maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

While Tim's mind skittered over his thoughts, his eyes remained singularly focused on the task at hand. He had not seen another person in the hours he'd been perched between the rocks he'd chosen as his cover, and he sat casually enjoying the sunshine while he watched the two men pretend to give a shit about the fish. Thankfully, Tim's time in the Rangers meant he was well acquainted with tedium and no stranger to the methods by which he could assuage his boredom while maintaining focus. Still, he was happy when he caught sight of Kathryn walking through the woods toward him.

By his estimate, Kathryn had walked more than 20 miles today, and most of that had been done with three bags. If so, she'd maintained a brutal pace for most of her hike. They'd left their campsite just before 5AM and she'd left him around 6:45. Now it was 3PM and she was back. She looked accordingly exhausted and sweaty. Tim thought she probably should have stayed with the car, but he knew she would never have agreed to that.

"You should have left your backpack in the car, too," he said. Kathryn sat down next to him and took the gas station backpack off. She pulled out a fresh t-shirt for herself and handed him a bottle of water and an energy drink.

"Thought you were broke," he said.

Kathryn shrugged. "You're welcome."

He was grateful, though her certainly wasn't going to say as much. That was another thing he liked about Kathryn now that he thought about it. Despite her brusque manner, she had always been thoughtful; grabbing him a muffin or handing him the doughnuts to eat the moment he was awake. Of course, all her thoughtfulness seemed to revolve around food, but he would never argue against baked goods or breakfast.

"You hear anything?"

Kathryn shook her head. "All good here?"

Tim nodded. "You mind takin' over for a minute? Gotta take a leak."

Kathryn moved over so she could see across the road unimpeded, and he left to relieve himself. By the time he returned, Kathryn was wearing a fresh dry shirt and had already opened the energy drink which he realized now was for the two of them to share. Maybe he was giving her too much credit on the thoughtful aspects of her personality.

#

Kathryn said only one car in the sparsely populated campground parking lot had out of state plates, and she had only seen one other man at the adjoining campsite. That gave Tim some hope that things would go smoothly. As the sun began to lower, it splashed vibrant reds and oranges across the sky that he would have admired if he hadn't been nursing a growing concern that it was getting too late.

"Maybe I was wrong," he said, wondering why he'd been so sure the day before; why he hadn't insisted they still venture to the third location he'd considered.

"Relax Deputy. I trust your judgement."

"Why?" he asked.

"You've proven yourself to be of sound mind and good judgement previously."

Tim fidgeted with his baseball cap, turning it backward since he no longer needed it to shield his eyes from the sun. This was making him anxious.

Kathryn yawned, tapping at her face firmly in an attempt to wake herself up. It was a good thing Tim was handling the firearms tonight because she looked too exhausted to safely operate one. He checked his watch again; it was creeping toward 7PM, and he didn't like their odds if the night progressed much further.

"Listen," Kathryn said, tilting her head toward the road. Tim heard it too; the sound of a truck coming from the west. He looked across at the two men just as they stood and made their way from their fishing spot to wait by the side of the road.

Tim grabbed the rifle carefully and pressed himself into a position more conducive to shooting. Kathryn pulled her backpack on and checked her firearm. She was still using the 9MM she'd lifted from Melnik and Tim wondered how many rounds remained in the clip. She seemed satisfied when she tucked it into her waistband, and Tim hoped whatever she had was sufficient in case it was needed.

He didn't like that their target was coming in from the west. The road ran between the ridge they were on and a wide bend in the river north of their location. It was slow enough here to make for a good fishing spot, but it also meant there was almost no cover once you were off the ridge until you made it to the other side and could use the trees. They had an excellent view of the road and the water until the tree line, but the truck was coming in from their left, meaning the driver's side faced away from them. Tim had hoped he'd have a clear shot of the driver and whoever walked up next to the vehicle to speak with him.

Tim said nothing to Kathryn because he was afraid she'd use his hesitation as an excuse to leap into action and put herself in more danger than necessary. He would just have to hope that when he fired the first shot, everyone would jump out of the truck. Here's hoping.

Tim's fears were justified when the truck pulled up next to the two men and they sidled up to the side of the truck he could not see.

"Fuck," Kathryn said softly to his left.

"I know. I'll figure it out."

"Not that," she said, and he saw that she was pointing toward the east.

Headlights. After an entire day with no more than a park ranger on a 4-wheeler, there were now headlights breaking through the soft twilight of the park. They were still far away that the men below wouldn't yet see, but from up here Tim could tell they were closing in quickly. He swung the rifle in that direction to make use of the scope.

"It's a fucking minivan." He brought the scope back to the truck just as a man stepped out of the back and took point at the rear. He could hear Kathryn moving frantically next to him and he glanced over to see that she was rubbing dirt across her face and into her hair; her jeans and arms were already patchily covered in the stuff.

She looked at him, "I trust you, Deputy."

And then she was gone, running west against the dwindling light.

"Shit," Tim muttered under his breath. He should have known better than to think any part of this would go smoothly. When was the last time any case or mission he'd worked had gone smoothly?

Tim waited with his eye pressed to the scope. His stomach clenched more tightly with each passing second as he waited to see what exactly Kathryn had planned.

And then he heard it, faint but distinct.

"Hello? Hello? Is anyone there? Please... I need... I need help."

Tim watched the man at the back of the truck raise his gun as he peered down the road toward the source of the noise.

"Hello? Oh, thank god! Can you help me?"

Kathryn was stumbling down the road, covered in dirt and leaves, and she had produced a rather convincing number of tears.

"Please, my boyfriend! He... fell... I'm so glad I found... Ahh!" Kathryn shot her hands up next to her head as though she was only realizing the man three feet in front of her was holding a weapon. "Please… please don't hurt me..." Tim was impressed by the refreshed supply of tears, "I'm just looking for help."

Tim noticed that one of the fishermen had peaked his head out from the back corner of the truck with his gun at the read.

"Please!" came Kathryn's voice again and he watched as the first man walked uncomfortably close to her and said something he couldn't hear. Kathryn's still had her hands up in surrender, and her body shook with fabricated sobs.

It happened more quickly than Tim was prepared for.

Kathryn used a downward sweep of her right arm to knock the man's gun from his hand as her left elbow slammed into his jaw. In what felt like the same motion, she had drawn her gun from her waistband and put two efficient bullets into the chest of the man still wearing his fishing gear.

Tim took out the second fisherman the moment he peaked around the back of the truck, leaving Kathryn free to finish off the man standing next to her with two bullets in his chest as well.

Tim didn't have a moment to take the scene in before another man climbed out of the passenger's side of the truck's cab. Tim ensured he was dead before he'd closed the door. Kathryn walked along the south-facing side of the truck. She came around the front and aimed her gun directly down the road ahead of her. Tim didn't know what she was doing at first. Then he realized the minivan had just rounded a corner and was now in full view of the truck. He heard the brakes squeal as the car came to an abrupt stop, but his eyes stayed fixed on the truck, searching for any signs of movement.

"Turn around!" He heard Kathryn's clear, firm voice. "Turn your vehicle around!"

He assumed the sounds of a tire screeching and a thud indicated that the driver of the vehicle had heeded her warning and was heading as quickly as possible the opposite direction. Then, shots rang out from the driver's side of the cab and Tim cursed because he couldn't see the person responsible. He watched as Kathryn narrowly avoided getting hit and she stepped to duck behind the wheel well on the passenger side. Tim still couldn't get a clear shot, so he made the decision to move.

The hill on the other side of the ridge was steep, and it took him too long to get down it. He was painfully aware of how exposed he was the entire time he was running down, and he hoped the driver was the only foe left standing. He could hear more gunfire as he finally made it to the road. A cursory glance to his right proved that Kathryn was still in position returning fire. He watched as she pulled on the trigger again and nothing happened. She was finally out. Tim raced across the back of the truck and took a single breath. He rounded the back corner and brought the scope to his eye at the same moment, aiming down the length of the vehicle. He pulled the trigger before his brain had the chance to fully acknowledge what was happening. The man from the driver's seat was dead in an instant.

"Deputy!" Kathryn shouted from the opposite end.

"I'm good. Let me clear the cab."

Tim raced toward the front of the truck and pointed his rifle inside the cabin. There was no one inside, but the truck was still running, which at least meant they had the benefit of its lights against the increasing darkness surrounding them. When Tim came around the front of the truck, he had expected to meet Kathryn, but she wasn't there. For a moment, he thought he had neglected to account for another person, but then he heard the back door of the truck sliding open.

As Tim walked carefully toward the back of the truck, he heard Kathryn's voice from inside. "Yes. Five confirmed. ETA?" He realized belatedly that she must be on the phone.

When he rounded the rear of the vehicle, he felt like someone was pouring cement onto his insides.

The truck was full of young women and children who looked out at him like he imagined Gollum had looked up at Bilbo in the dark of his cave. He felt sick.

Kathryn was crouched next to one of the older looking girls—Tim guessed she was maybe 17—and pressing the phone into her hands. The girl was crying. It looked like she had been for a long time. He was astounded and disgusted by the range of ages he saw. It made him even angrier that he hadn't put a bullet between Ibsen's eyes himself. He hoped Kathryn might give him the details of whatever this organization was and let him find and dispose of each and every member.

"Deputy Gutterson." Kathryn was standing at the edge of the truck bed, looking down at him. "Time to go."

Tim was taken aback as she jumped out of the truck and landed next to him. "What?"

"We have to leave."

Tim sputtered. "Shouldn't we wait for your guys to arrive? Or at least the park rangers?"

"State PD will be here in 10 minutes. We cannot be here when they arrive."

"What are you talking about?"

"You are not authorized to be here. We have to go."

Tim looked back up into the truck; at the teenagers and children huddled together, terrified. The thought of leaving them out here in the dark made beckoned the taste of bile in the back of his throat.

"Deputy!" Tim nearly had a flashback. There was Kathryn, standing against a wooded backdrop, pointing a gun at him.

"I know you're empty," he said.

"Then don't make me look like an idiot. We have to leave."

Tim was about to protest again when he heard it, faintly, in the distance, the sound of sirens. When Kathryn tucked the empty handgun into the back of her waistband, he slung his rifle over his left shoulder and followed her up the road. About a half mile up, she ducked into the trees and they waded through a shallow part of the river. On the other bank, she reached back and grabbed his hand. The sun was gone, now, and all they had to work with was the light of the moon. While it offered some light, it was barely sufficient. "Stay close," she said, and he followed behind her as the sound of the sirens rolled closer through the park.