Seconds ticked by while I eyed Mac's ruddy features, squinting to try and see past his gruff exterior.

"Why don't I remember you?" I huffed, narrowing my eyes and gulping the last of my beer. "Seems like I should since you seem to know so much about my family?"

"Your mom didn't want to drudge up the past in front of you kids," Mac belched, watching the ferns wave as if this were no big deal.

He was lying, and we both knew it.

"Hold on," I scoffed and hiccupped at the same time. "You called me Ellie. You were secret besties with my mom. You apparently know about my stint in rehab. There's something you're not telling me, Mac."

"Wow, you're a regular Columbo, aren't you?"

"Dude, you are ancient," I moaned at the overcast sky. "You know, my dad used to say, secrets and lies make baby Jesus cry."

"Don't sass me," Mac warned with playful sarcasm.

I'd only had one beer, but I was already feeling the effects all over. Mac waved a second drink at me, which I should have refused.

"Speaking of secrets," I said, leaning over my knees to accept the libation. "Rishi told me something about my dad."

"More secrets for baby Jesus?" Mac eyed me as I cracked the lid and took a messy slurp.

"Rishi said," I paused for a rich burp. "That my dad's helicopter didn't crash on accident in Syria."

I'd been meaning to ask about this, but it wasn't exactly an easy subject to work into a conversation. Rishi's last words to me had been a garbled stream of conscious as if he knew he was about to die, and his panicked confession about my dad was particularly haunting. Mac's mouth twitched beneath the whiskers of his bushy beard as the rest of his expression went blank.

"Oh yeah?" He replied around a muffled gulp. "What else did he say?"

"Nothing, he looked too frightened to tell me," I recalled with an inebriated shiver. "Do you know what happened?"

"I'll bet Arnie didn't tell you because he didn't know," Mac snorted and arched his brow in disbelief. "I saw that chopper go down with my own eyes. Two other men died in that crash. It was gruesome."

I was slightly intoxicated, but I could tell that Mac didn't want to answer my question.

"Did Hamm order the crash?" I gasped.

"Hamm's reckless enough to approve that much collateral damage just to clean up his mess," Mac conceded, biting his lower lip. "Arnie was another loose end, I suppose."

"Rishi died helping me," I said glumly, looking down at my sneakers to study the grubby laces and hiccup into my chest.

"Arnie died trying to find atonement," Mac grumbled, rubbing his meaty hand through his hair.

"He was braver than you're giving him credit for," I replied.

"Arnie was Hamm's lapdog!" Mac's stern outburst startled me to shut up. "He had all that brainpower, and he was too scared to think for himself. His death wasn't your fault, don't you go blaming yourself for that guy."

I studied the expression etched into the folds around Mac's creased brow. Regret laced the tension hanging in the air and he was avoiding my gaze. His crooked nose had flushed a light mauve that blended into his wind-worn cheeks. Sad clowns have nothing on woeful lumberjacks.

"I've killed a lot of people," I whispered into the lip of my beer can before taking a drink.

"On accident or in self-defense," Mac corrected half-heartedly. "You're going to have to get used to moral ambiguity."

"Some of them, yeah," I winced at the painful admission. "I did something. Something bad, Mac. That plane crash in Taiwan, I was the only survivor, and..."

My voice dissolved in my throat and I gulped for air.

"Listen," Mac rumbled, gesturing to get my attention. "Hey! Listen to me! I've done a lot of very bad things in the service of my country. Things I'm not allowed to talk about, and I couldn't repeat half of them even if I wanted to, because that would mean admitting that I committed them. The only things you can worry about are the choices you are going to make today and in the future, Ella."

"Like what?" I asked with inebriated fervor. "What did you do?"

"You mean the unmentionable things I can't repeat?" He gave me a withering look. "Did you listen to a word I said?"

"I just told you my worst thing," I reasoned over a dainty burp.

"Our team, what we did, Ella, we were like independent contractors," Mac's eyes narrowed slightly. "We were hired to be the bad guy, so someone else didn't have to be."

"Is that why you," I searched for the right way to phrase my stupid question. "Don't do that stuff anymore?"

Mac met my stare solemnly. "No."

It would have been undetectable to anyone else, but Mac's emotions changed. Like me, he was about to dive behind the mental wall he'd maintained all these years.

Suddenly, the air near his truck erupted into orange ripples that made my jaw unhinge.

"Oh, no," I moaned, leaning over to get a better look.

"Oh no, what?" Mac straightened up.

I opened and closed my mouth like a dummy. "Do me a favor," I whispered through tight lips, raising a finger to point. "Look over there."

Mac turned his girth as the lean frame and overly dilated eyes of my mysterious stalker appeared in the low twilight. He was still clad in the calf-length trench coat and dark boots from weeks ago.

As usual, the masked man said nothing.

"Mac?"

"Yeah?" Mac was trying to drunkenly hide his shock.

"Please tell me you see that guy?" I murmured.

"You mean the demonic-looking gentleman standing by my truck in a lady's jacket?" He asked.

"Mac, meet David Copperfield," I kept my stare fixed on the gnarled gash lining the man in black's forehead.

The interloper cocked his head of raven hair to study us.

"Hi, I'm Mac. You've met Ella, so I don't think I have to apologize for her, right?" Mac pulled himself up to his full height, rolling his shoulders back to flex his bulk. "I didn't catch your name, friend?"

He lumbered toward our visitor with the lax stature of a man that was too intoxicated to realize he might be in danger.

"What are you doing?" I hissed as Mac extended his hand to offer a shake.

The stranger did not move.

"Did you even try introducing yourself to him?" Mac asked, wheeling around to look me in the face with a knowing smirk. "Maybe he didn't tell you his name because you weren't polite enough to ask."

"The Colonel is less than ten minutes away." The man's facial disguise slightly obscured his raspy tenor.

His voice was as hollow as a reed. I could feel the tingle of sudden danger tickling my arm hairs to stand on end. My stomach plummeted into my butt, taking hunks of beer-soaked beef and grease with it.

"Why should we believe you?" I sneered.

The man sighed heavily, squinting his eyes to regard me for a second longer before dropping his head into a shake.

"Are you always like this?" He asked.

"Yes," Mac answered, bobbing his head up and down. "Yes, she really is."

"Do you always follow women you don't know?" I retorted.

The man raised his hand to touch his index and middle finger to the middle of his palm.

"What the dickens?" Mac marveled as the stranger evaporated into thin amber swirls. "There's more-"

I nearly stumbled over the log I'd been using as a stool when Mac whirled around, his eyes wild.

"We have to go," he ordered. "Now."

"What are you talking about?" I cried, trailing behind as Mac hustled for the trailer. "Go where? We don't even know if we can trust that guy!"

"Do you want to wait and find out?" Mac called over his shoulder, heaving the flimsy door open. "Get inside!"

"This is the opposite of going somewhere!" I complained.

"Get the door!" Mac yowled.

He was already on the floor, rifling under the benches of the breakfast nook until he came up with a musty backpack. I grasped the handle of the door to swing it shut while Mac made a bunch of loud thumping noises. When I looked up, he had somehow yanked the dining table up from the carpeting to expose a large trap door beneath. Strapped to his expansive breastbone was his grubby canvas pack.

Mac tossed me a flashlight and I grabbed the closest sweater I could find for extra warmth.

"You first," he instructed, pointing at the hole.

"OK, but I am warning you," I told him, approaching the hatch with trepidation. "Cramped, underground tunnels kind of freak me out."

"I don't care," Mac replied, taking my hand to help me drop into the musty hole.

Something tickled my skin as I wriggled into the crawl space and I fought to keep my breathing even.

Mac's feet were already coming down the hole, so I scrambled out of the way. The tunnel was big enough for Mac to stoop and for me to stand, but before we could take off he had to replace the table. As the remaining light was sealed off, a rumbling shook the earth around us.

Hamm was already there, and it sounded like he'd brought a bunch of really big friends.

"Go!" Mac hissed, clicking on his flashlight. "I'm right behind you."

Huh, so Mac had a GO BAG ready and a secret tunnel for escaping at the last second?!? If anyone out there guessed that Mac was going to have a LOT to do with this story, you were right! And it looks like the Man in Black is still following Ella, so, we haven't seen the last of that guy. Well, at least Ella doesn't have to deal with Mac's smelly old camper any more...