When Tara told her father she planned to go someplace remote, she was serious. In a state park, they turned off the paved road onto a very rough, seldom used dirt path that led straight into the heart of some heavily forested, somewhat rough terrain. I held back as they crawled through the woods in his little Toyota truck, taking nearly an hour to go the six miles to their campsite. When I saw that the tracker had stopped, I moved forward in my Jeep.
Three miles out, I stopped and set up early warning sensors on trees that flanked the road, and a mile later I began placing a series of trail cams in quarter-mile intervals. A mile from their camp, I found a slight break in the trees where I could back my Wrangler a few hundred feet off the trail. I pulled my gear from the back and draped the vehicle with a camo net and some fallen branches. In a spot that was clear of overhead foliage, I set out my second-favorite toy, a quiet running drone with remarkable range, a kickass zoom and infrared ability. Already in my tactical clothing, I geared up with an ammo belt and mag holders, vest, helmet and tactical pack. I grabbed my rifle, my favorite toy, and headed out. Paralleling the trail but staying well away from it, I moved in on their campsite, stopping two hundred yards out.
For some time, I watched them, marveling at how my little Tara had grown up. Her silky, brunette hair was long and luxurious, a perfect match for her lovely, brown-eyed girl-next-door face. Toned and graceful, she was a joy to behold. Tara's C-cup breasts were pert and fabulously placed, with no discernible sag, and at only twenty years old she already had full, womanly hips and a gorgeous ass. Silently, I cussed myself for noticing, but how could any man not notice?
Setting up their tent seemed to be challenging, but they were determined to have a place to play in. By late afternoon the tent was up, fully stocked with their nighttime necessities, and the boyfriend actually set up a campfire worthy of photographing for a scouting handbook. I was already in my ghillie suit and had done system checks on the trail cams by the time they were cooking hot dogs over the fire.
I made a comfy spot to sit at the base of a tall cedar. Even without the directional mic I was using, I could hear them laughing and carrying on. Still, it proved useful. I learned that the boyfriend's name was Trevor, and that he suspected Tara's dad didn't like him, much. Not a total idiot, I suppose. With nearly an hour of sunlight left, I watched them enter the tent, giggling like a pair of middle-schoolers. They talked about where they had put the condoms, and when Tara told him she wanted to see his cock, well, that's when I aimed the mic back up the road in the opposite direction. I loved Tara dearly, and that was not something I wanted to listen to.
By midnight, the only sounds I could detect coming from the tent was that of someone snoring. I hoped it was Trevor. I heard an owl, and a raccoon scuttling about nearby. When a family of deer tripped the motion sensors on one of the trail cams, I watched on my phone as they cautiously went about their business. Around two a.m., I heard the distant huffing of a grizzly. It was probably a mile or more out, but I slid my rifle from its pouch and attached a thermal zoom optic into place. My.300 Win Mag AR was state of the art and would make short work of the bear if it got too close to the tent. I pulled the suppressor for the rifle from my pack and threaded it on. No sense in waking them up if the big predator needed to be dealt with.
It was quite a while before I heard the bear, again, this time sounding even further away. I let myself relax a bit, to breathe in the fresh night air and enjoy a swig of Kentucky bourbon from my flask. I was reflecting upon what a nice night it was when the three-mile sensors tripped. I pulled up the first trail cam on my phone, waited to see what was coming down the trail. More deer, perhaps? I waited. No, not deer this time. A dark SUV with several passengers was creeping down the trail, engine idling, lights off. A half-mile from Tara's camp, it stopped. I scoped them with my rifle and watched silently as three armed men got out and started toward the tent, one on the trail and one on either side, moving through the trees. A fourth man stayed behind, waiting in the driver's seat of the vehicle.
I remained perfectly still, watching as the three came on line with me, then passed by. I waited for them to get a hundred feet down the trail before I started moving forward, heading to a spot that was to their rear but did not put the tent in my line of fire. At the campsite, the two flankers emerged from the tree line and walked into the clearing, posting as security as the center man closed on the front of the tent, holding his rifle at the ready.
One, two, three... one, two, three...
ONE! TWO! THREE! The three men were down. I rushed toward the trail, found a clear line of sight to the SUV, braced against a friendly tree and took out the driver. Now, the suppressor on my AR helps reduce noise and muzzle flash a good deal, but it can only do so much with a supersonic round. Tara and Trevor were awake. I turned and ran for the camp, hoping to get there before the screaming started, but I got there too late. That Trevor was quite the screamer. The moon was nearly full and cast considerable light, and when Trevor saw me racing in their direction, a creepy forest monster in a ghillie suit, he ran screaming into the woods behind their camp. Tara looked like she would have followed him if she hadn't been paralyzed in terror.
Running into their camp, I pushed back the top of the suit, showing Tara it was me. She shook with disbelief, eyes wide.
"Uncle Gabe?" she questioned, still in shock from the dead bodies that littered the campsite. "Wha-what the..." she glanced around, again. "What the fuck is this!?!"
"
This
," I explained, "is why you should always listen to your father. Security teams exist for a reason, Tara, and this is the reason." I checked the three men for a pulse and found none. The two Hispanics I didn't recognize, but the Caucasian looked familiar. I motioned Tara over. "Hon, do you recognize any of these men?" When she looked at the Caucasian, her eyes lit up.
"That's John!" she exclaimed, startled. "John MacIntyre! He's on my security team! I, I... I don't understand! What's going on?"
"Tara, listen to me. I need you to calm down, take a few deep breaths and go gather up your boyfriend. Round him up and we'll talk, okay?" Tara nodded, then ran to find Trevor. I searched the bodies for IDs, found nothing. By the time I had finished taking photos and removed my ghillie suit, Tara returned with Trevor in tow. I told them to gather their shit quickly and secure it in the back of Trevor's pickup. "Get packed up, I need to check something and I'll be right back."
Back at my comfy tree, I picked up the drone controller and sent it up. Scanning with infrared, I sent it to follow the trail back as far as its range would allow. Nothing. I brought it back to land near my Jeep. Gathering my gear, I ran to the SUV, searched for anything that might be a clue as to who these guys were. Nothing, not even a phone. I yanked the dead driver out of the vehicle, got in and started the engine, then drove the vehicle down the trail. I parked it next to Trevor's pickup.
"Everything packed?" I asked as I got out. Tara nodded, Trevor looked like a man who suddenly realized there was shit in his britches. "Okay, good. Now, we don't have time for twenty questions, so just understand that some very bad people have some very bad plans for you. Trevor, you need to get someplace off the grid and hide for a few days. No electronics, or they'll find you. I'd leave all that shit here, if I was you." Trevor nodded and threw his phone into the woods. "Tara," I said firmly, "you're coming with me." Without argument, she kissed her boyfriend and followed me back to my Jeep.
* * *
"Are you certain it was John McIntyre?" Jason asked. Tara grabbed my phone, put it to her ear.
"Daddy, it was John," she confirmed. "What the hell was he doing, there, and who were those other guys?"
"Sweetheart, I don't know. I'm going to get an investigation going just as soon as I get off the phone. Until we know more, I want you to stay with Uncle Gabe, okay?"
"Okay, Daddy. I love you."
"I love you, too, Tara. I need to speak to Gabe, now."
* * *
It was late morning when we pulled up to the cabin, nestled in forest at the end of a long dirt driveway. Sunlight shone like glitter on the lake, just West of the property. We got out, stretched our legs, and Tara took it all in with her eyes. She grinned, turned to grab my arm as I came around the Jeep.
"Dang, Uncle Gabe," she beamed, "this is really nice. It's so peaceful. Why is this the first time I'm seeing it?" I drew her in for a long hug and kissed her forehead.
"Well, it's a bit of a drive and your dad never really takes time off."
