Detective Danny Cavanaugh 01 - The Brink

back out in the living room in less than ten minutes. Except for the well-worn sneakers on her feet, she was still dressed in the guard’s outfit. Everything was folded back up the way it was given to her.
    A backpack and two canvas bags were on the kitchen table. Danny looked up from the backpack, his hands still buried inside it. “Let me guess, too small?”
    “Way too small. But the sneakers fit almost perfectly.”
    Danny held out a box of large Ziploc bags. “I found these underneath the sink. We can use one to protect the documents.”
    Sydney took out the papers that she had stuffed back in her waistband, put them in a bag, and sealed it up. She handed the bag to Danny, who put it in the backpack. She took another bag and stuffed it in her pocket. “Just in case.”
    “Good idea,” Danny said and dropped the box into the backpack.
    “Who are we seeing in Houston?” Sydney asked. “Your parents perhaps?”
    Danny stopped organizing their luggage and looked up. “My parents? No. Mom lives in Houston, but I don’t want to get her involved in any of this. My father … he’s deceased.”
    Sydney clutched her chest. “I’m sorry, Danny. Was it recent?”
    “No. It happened many years ago.” Danny tapped the floor where he stood. “In fact, it happened right here.”
    “Here? Was he killed?”
    Danny didn’t hesitate answering. “Sort of. Dad shot himself.”
    Sydney’s gut immediately ached with guilt. “Oh Danny, I’m so sorry for prying.”
    “No. It’s no big … like I said, it happened a while ago. I was sixteen at the time. A lot of time has passed, so it’s okay.” Danny paused and then smirked. “I guess my dad liked killing so much he had to do it to himself.”
    Once again, an uneasy silence hung in the room. Sydney felt incredibly small. How could she have said that about his family? She should have known better. Never assume about families. Especially after having the one you did, or rather didn’t have.
    “Danny, I am very sorry for saying—”
    Danny held up his hand. “Forget it. You didn’t know.” He checked his watch. “Come on. We need to pack the truck and get going. They may have found the passageway by now. They could be on to us.”
    “Right. May I use the bathroom?” Sydney asked.
    Danny pointed at the back door. “Do you know what an outhouse is?”
    “Out … house? No.”
    Danny explained it to her; Sydney cringed.
    “There should be a roll of toilet paper out there,” he added.
    Danny slung the backpack over one shoulder, grabbed the duffle bags, and headed for the front door. “One word of advice. Check the toilet before you sit down.”
    “Why?”
    “There are all sorts of animals around here. They’ll get into anything.”
    Sydney shuddered. She walked to the back door and peeked through the window. The outhouse was fifty feet from the cabin. The grimy white toilet glowed against the three walls that surrounded it. Wait. It doesn’t have a door!
    Sydney was about to say something just as gunshots ripped across the air.

Chapter 21
    The force of the bullet knocked Danny back through the cabin’s front door. Shaken, he was still able to roll out of the doorway, pull Sydney in behind him, and slam the door shut.
    Danny felt pain in his shoulder. He checked it. No gaping hole, no blood. The pain had been from landing on it. Then he felt the brunt of the bullet’s impact against his right hip. He checked it. Again, nothing. He looked at the duffle bag that was now lying on the floor next to him. He had filled it with the hunting rifles from the gun cabinet. The bag had a quarter-sized hole on one side. One of the rifles had stopped the bullet.
    He unzipped the bag and pulled out the Browning BAR Safari rifle, the only semi-automatic of the bunch. He had refilled its three-shot magazine, but three shots wouldn’t nearly be enough. He had to assume all five guards were out there. Judging from the fleeting glance he got of the assault rifles they were carrying back in the meeting room, he was severely out-gunned.
    Danny shifted around on the floor until he could look at the back door. Sydney was on her stomach. She was looking at him with the fear of God in her eyes. It was obvious that she had been in enough life-and-death situations for one day and one lifetime.
    He pointed toward the bedroom. Sydney nodded and began crawling for it.
    One of the windowpanes in the front door had been shattered. Danny got to his knees and leaned the