Читать книгу Federal Agent Under Fire - Julie Anne Lindsey - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Blake slowed his truck at the national park entrance where a line of cars blocked the gate. A park ranger moved car to car, waving his hands and pointing toward the exit.

“What the hell?” Blake powered his window down and shoved an elbow over the frame. He tipped his head through the open window. “Hey, what’s going on?”

The ranger, still two cars away, shot him a dirty look and continued arguing with the driver of a rusted hatchback.

Blake shifted into Park and climbed down from the cab. He gave Marissa an authoritative stare. “Stay put.”

She released her seat belt and twisted on the seat, scanning the scene outside. A big white van with a satellite on top came into view, along with a cluster of people and cameras. “This day keeps getting worse.”

“What?” Blake peered over the crush of stalled vehicles. “The reporter?”

“I think the good Samaritan who drove me to the sheriff’s department is being interviewed by that news crew.”

“Sonofa—” Blake slammed his door and headed into the chaos. His FBI shield bounced against his chest on a beaded metal chain. “Hey,” he called again, “what’s this about?”

The ranger sagged in relief. He motioned to Blake’s badge. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were FBI. It’s pandemonium up here.”

“You want to fill me in?” Blake asked.

“Some guy showed up with a news crew an hour ago. He says a woman was attacked here this morning. They aired a live interview snippet, and people started pouring in to have a look at the crime scene. Campers are scared. Some are leaving. The phone won’t stop ringing.”

Blake could barely hear the phone inside the little guard booth. He climbed onto a massive tree stump painted with the park hours and strained for a better look at the crowd near the white van. A man in Dickies and flannel stood beside a woman Blake recognized from the Channel Six News team. If that man hadn’t saved Marissa, Blake would’ve been tempted to escort him out of the park violently.

The ranger fixed Blake with an expectant look. “What should we do?”

As if on cue, the sheriff’s cruiser rolled into view, bouncing through the grass alongside a line of waiting cars. Blake whistled and waved to his brothers as West angled between the guard gate and overcrowded lot. No other cars would get in until he moved.

Cole jumped out. “We’ve got this. You got her?” He flicked his gaze to Blake’s truck.

Blake nodded and shook the ranger’s hand, eager to get back to Marissa. “Sheriff and Deputy Garrett will take it from here.” He jogged back to the truck and climbed inside. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“Good.” He wrenched his truck free from the line and parked it in the grass beside the news van.

He pocketed the keys and turned for Marissa. “Ready?” The alarm in her eyes stunned him into silence. She’d put on a brave face at the station, but there was no confidence in her expression now. A distant part of him longed to comfort her somehow, but that wasn’t his place. She probably had a long line of people waiting to fold her into their arms and ease her fear. Blake’s job was to stop a madman.

She turned weary eyes on him. “Yes.”

“Don’t worry.” The statement was out before he’d thought better of it. Then, already heading downhill, he made it worse. “I won’t let him hurt you again.” The words soured on his tongue. How could he promise to protect her? He’d let Nash get away once already. Wasn’t it technically his fault that Nash had gotten ahold of her at all?

Marissa lifted her chin and rolled her shoulders back. “Thank you for saying so, but I’m not afraid.” The lie was evident in the lines gathered across her forehead, but Blake didn’t argue.

He climbed out and met Marissa on her side of the truck. “Why don’t you take me to where you left him?”

“Sure.” Marissa led the way down a gravel and mud path from Blake’s makeshift parking spot to the trailhead. “I started here around five thirty.”

“Miss?” A woman’s voice carried over the drone of the crowd. “Miss? Excuse me.” The Channel Six reporter hurried in Marissa’s direction waving a microphone. Her pink dress suit and pearls were sorely out of place in the park. Her pointy heels sank into the ground with each hurried step. Worse, she wasn’t alone. She was a mama duck, trailed by her cameraman, the guy who’d driven Marissa to the station and a row of nosy locals craning to get a look at the victim.

Marissa made a soft squeaky noise and Blake’s hackles rose. He widened his stance and lifted a palm in the reporter’s direction. “Stop right there.”

“Absolutely.” She fluffed her hair and straightened her jacket. “I’m Linda Somers, Channel Six News. And you are?” She eyeballed the badge around his neck. A sugary-sweet smile curved her lips.

The cameraman positioned himself near a tree and hoisted the camera onto one shoulder, arranging his shot. A little red light blinked at the side of his lens. He gave Linda a thumbs-up.

Her smile widened. “Are you here to investigate this morning’s attack, Federal Agent...” She left the sentence hanging.

“That’s Blake Garrett,” someone called from the crowd. “He’s the sheriff’s brother.”

Damn small towns. Blake ground his teeth. “Please direct your questions to Sheriff Garrett.”

“Is this the victim?” she asked. Pencil-thin eyebrows rose behind her bangs.

The man who’d called this fiasco into action nodded. “Yeah. That’s her. I found her running along the county road, crying.”

“You’re certain?” the reporter asked.

“Positive. I wouldn’t forget picking up a lady dressed like that.”

Marissa wrapped both arms around her middle and glared at the man. Her outfit might not be camera ready, but she was dressed appropriately for a run, which was likely the only thing she’d expected to do before her shower.

Blake groaned. “She has no comment.” He moved between Marissa and the reporter.

The cameraman honed in on them.

“What’s your name, Miss?” Linda asked. “Are you from Cade County? Do you come here often? How long have you known Federal Agent Garrett?”

Heat from Marissa’s body warmed his side. Her fingers pressed against his back as she stepped into view of the mob forming along the trailhead. He should’ve guessed she’d refuse to stay behind him. Fire churned in his gut. The bigmouthed reporter had taken the only tactical advantage Blake had over Nash—surprise. Now, Nash would know Blake was there, and the games would begin again before Blake was ready.

Blake scanned the crowd for his enemy. What if seeing him with Marissa fueled Nash’s need to get his hands on her again? What if Blake’s presence put her in more danger? As if the fact she’d gotten away wasn’t reason enough for him to come at her again.

West and Cole arrived a moment later, waving their badges and hollering instructions at the crowd.

“That’s our cue.” Blake wound his fingers around Marissa’s wrist and tugged. “Let them take care of the crowd. Let’s get back to what we came for.”

* * *

MARISSA TOOK THE LEAD, but her stomach protested the trip, and her limbs strained against her. Instinct begged her never to return to the place where she’d nearly been abducted, but resolve pushed her forward. Whether she wanted to go or not was irrelevant. Who knew how many more women would be in danger if the man who grabbed her wasn’t caught? Images of the awful moments flooded her mind, lifting the fine hairs along the back of her neck, and resurrecting another memory. A shiver rolled through her.

“What’s wrong?” Blake’s voice was low and cautious.

She scrubbed a hand over her lips. “I’m not sure. Maybe nothing.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“There was a man who tossed bread crumbs into the lake this summer. He was always there when I came back from my morning runs. That guy had a black hoodie like the man I saw today at the lookout. I know it’s not much, and everyone owns a black hoodie, but it could be something, right?”

“Anything could be something. You saw him more than once?”

She squinted against the brilliant sunlight, desperate for a more useful memory or detail. “He was there every morning for a while. Then, one day he just wasn’t.”

“Did he see you?”

“I think so. I’m hard to miss after five miles up and down a mountain.” She heaved a sigh. “I probably looked a lot like this, except swinging my arms to cool down from the jog.” Marissa plucked stringy bangs off her forehead and groaned inwardly. For the first time since she’d arrived at the station, she was fiercely self-conscious. Why hadn’t she at least combed her hair or washed her face while she’d waited on Blake to arrive? It was bad enough she was bruised and dirty. She didn’t have to be a disheveled nightmare, too. “I’m a mess.”

“You’ve gone over ten miles on foot today and fought off a man twice your size. I think you get a pass.”

So, he agreed. She was a mess. She pulled her ponytail down and shook her hair out, raking fingers through the tangles. She stopped moving when the lake came into view.

Shadow Valley Lake was nearly eighteen square miles of water, much of it surrounded by tall grasses, angry geese and a well-beaten path courtesy of Cade County fishermen. Her apple, now covered in ants, lay in the grass near a massive oak tree. “I was there. Eating that apple.” She regretted leaving the trash behind. “I’ll take that with me when I leave this time.”

Blake examined the ground near her apple. “The apple’s evidence now. Look.” He pushed the grass back and forth with his shoe, revealing two sets of imprints. Her Nikes and a pair of boots. He hovered his foot near the larger print. He fished his cell phone from one pocket and took pictures of the discovery.

Emotion coiled in Marissa’s gut. Her eyes stung, and her bottom lip trembled. She sipped cool air and forced her mind away from the vivid memories clawing at her heart. “The man with the bread crumbs was always right there.” She pointed to a crescent of mud and rock at the massive lake’s edge.

They moved toward the spot. Boot imprints striped the soft earth, as if he’d been pacing. “Do you see those?” she asked.

“Yep.” He snapped another picture. “Same tread pattern as the prints by your apple.”

Marissa bit into her thumbnail. No one had been at the lake on her predawn trip up the mountain, and she hadn’t seen anyone when she sat under the tree to enjoy her apple.

Blake scanned the area with sharp, trained eyes. He mumbled something under his breath and raised his phone again, this time for a picture of the lake.

Marissa followed his icy stare to a sprinkling of white flecks on the glassy surface. “Is that bread?”

“No.” Blake turned his phone over and tapped the screen. “Those are white rose petals.”

Marissa wrinkled her nose. “There aren’t any white roses in the park.”

“Hey,” Blake growled into the phone, now pressed to his ear. “Get me a cast kit. We’ve got pattern evidence at the lake.” He disconnected and gripped the cell phone in his palm. “Any chance the man you saw here a few months ago could’ve been tossing these onto the water instead of bread crumbs?”

“Maybe. Why? What do they mean?” She tried to hide the fear settling in her bones.

Blake rubbed the back of his neck. “The fugitive I’ve been chasing left white rose petals on the doorstep of his victims’ homes.”

“I’m guessing you don’t think these petals are a coincidence.” Marissa’s stomach sank as she watched the little white boats skating across the serene water.

Blake snapped more pictures of the petals. “I don’t believe in coincidence.”

Well, they had that in common. She turned away and closed her eyes, engaging painful memories. “He was singing ‘Going to the Chapel’ and leaves roses. Does he have a fantasy about marrying his victims?”

“I don’t know. He wasn’t very forthcoming when I tried to haul him in, and we never found the women, but I assume this is all part of some sick fetish. He lost a girlfriend to suicide about a year before he took his first victim.”

Marissa opened her eyes and headed back to her fallen apple. She worked methodically around the grass, parting the blades with her shoe like Blake had. Maybe she could find a clue, too. Something Blake could send to the crime lab where his science and tech people worked.

Something moved in the distance. A few seconds later, Cole appeared with a backpack.

“How well do you know Cole?” Blake asked. He stopped a few feet ahead of her and waved to his brother. “You went to school together. Anything else?”

“Not really.” She tented her brows. Was she being accused of something? “We live in a small town and went to the same high school. We ran into each other from time to time. West and Ryder, too.”

Blake turned at the waist and narrowed his eyes on her. She knew all three of his little brothers, but he hadn’t met her until today? A nagging sense of injustice registered at the back of his mind.

“What?” She bounced her toe against something hard, and a little navy pouch flipped into view. “Hey, look at this.” Marissa crouched over the object. Recognition swept through her like a hurricane, sucking air from her lungs and pushing her attention in a new direction. She stood on wooden legs and stared at the tranquil lake behind them.

“What is that?” Blake crouched where she had been a moment before.

Marissa pressed a palm to her roiling stomach. She owned several pouches just like that one. “It’s a one-pound weight. They’re used on scuba belts.”

Cole settled in beside Blake and handed him the backpack.

Marissa pushed windblown hair from her eyes while the men bagged their evidence. Blades of ice seemed to wedge in her chest. “I know where he might’ve hidden those women’s bodies. I’d planned to do a photo shoot there soon.”

“Where?” the Garretts asked in near unison.

She lifted a finger toward the lake. The rose petals. The creepy song. “I think they’re in Shadow Valley.” Cade County’s historic lake town, submerged long ago in the name of flood control.

* * *

BLAKE MADE THE necessary calls to rouse a dive crew and the remainder of his team from Louisville. The agents arrived in just over an hour. The divers were another story, being parceled together from approved volunteers across the state, policemen, game wardens, anyone trained and available to thoroughly explore the remnants of an entire underwater town, door by door if necessary, while preserving as much potential evidence as possible. He’d also called in a favor with a local private security firm for additional help clearing the park and tending the curious crowd, which had been pushed outside the gates.

The space around the normally tranquil lake bustled with speculation and activity. Once all the divers arrived, things would get worse, and if Marissa’s hunch was right, more gruesome.

Her hunch. Not his.

Blake mentally kicked himself for never considering Shadow Valley Lake as a place to hide four bodies. If memory served, the Shadow Valley Chapel was one of the buildings swallowed by the lake. Finding victims in the underwater chapel would raise the stakes impossibly higher. That kind of discovery would suggest Nash was smarter and more resourceful than Blake had given him credit for. He’d always assumed Nash was the impulsive type, more likely to hide his crimes in a hurry than with careful planning and scuba gear. In fact, he’d considered Nash lucky for getting away at all. He’d blamed his own rookie hesitation.

Blake pressed the heels of his hands against closed eyes. What if Blake had been wrong all these years? What if the real mistake he’d made was underestimating Nash? The possibility came with all sorts of ugly thoughts. Blake had linked him to four missing women, but what if there were more? How many cases hadn’t he connected? What had Nash been doing these last five years while Blake chased his tail? Blake had assumed Nash was hiding, but what if Nash was still killing and Blake had missed it?

He scrubbed open palms over his face and forehead. How long had Nash been planning to take Marissa?

His attention cut through the collection of lawmen to where she rested her head against an oak tree not far from the lake. Her swollen eyes were shut. Her cheeks were red. The bruises from her attack had grown more pronounced as the day wore on, making Blake angrier with each passing second. He couldn’t seem to find it in himself to be thankful she was safe. He could only grow more infuriated that she’d been hurt.

She opened her eyes as he approached, a look of shock and panic on her face.

He lifted a hand and crouched beside her. “It’s only me. How are you holding up?”

“Fine.” Her knees bobbed with misplaced adrenaline. “Anything new?”

“The rest of the divers should be here soon, but it’s a big lake. It’s going to take them some time to search an entire town.”

She sat forward, hugging bent knees to her chest. “I have street maps for the town under the lake at my place. I could go get them. I’d hoped to take photos for a magazine interested in doing a spread on lake towns. The maps could save the divers time.”

Blake rested his forearms across his thighs, dangling both hands between his knees. “We have the town blueprint. Right now, the divers are fighting daylight to get here, and they haven’t got much left.” He stretched onto his feet and extended a hand to hoist her up. “How do you feel about taking a walk while we wait?”

She accepted his hand. “Where are we going?”

“You said you saw a man at the lookout. We should get up there while the park’s closed to visitors.” He motioned for her to lead the way.

Marissa stopped at the base of Sunrise Trail. She cocked a hip and stared up the dirt path. Uncertainty flashed in her eyes. “I didn’t get a good look at the guy up there, but he smelled like cigarette smoke.” She braced a hand to her forehead like a visor and squinted against the sun. “The man who attacked me also smelled like smoke, but I suppose that’s hardly enough to conclude it was the same man.”

“Do you think it was the same man?”

She cast her gaze to the ground. “I do.”

Blake motioned her forward. “That’s good enough for me.”

She took a deep breath and began her second five-mile uphill hike of the day. At least this time she wasn’t running. “I was a little spooked to see someone at the lookout before dawn. Confused, too. My car was the only one in the lot.”

Blake turned an amused expression on her. “You hiked five miles before dawn.” He shook his head in apparent awe. “You’re making me regret the coffee and cruller breakfast I had on my way here from Louisville.”

Marissa smiled. “Well, if it helps, I didn’t hike. I ran.”

He laughed. “Oh, yeah. That makes me feel much better. Thank you.”

She fell into a comfortable stride and inhaled deeply, finding as much inner peace as possible on this horrific day. “I run every morning, but three days a week I do it here. I like the view, and I normally enjoy the solitude.” She bit her lip against the tirade that had been swirling in her mind for the past few hours. “I knew something was wrong. I knew it, and I didn’t leave.”

Blake stopped moving and stared at her. “You couldn’t have known. Even if you had, you weren’t at fault here. Don’t let that worm get into your head. From what I can tell, you did everything right, and if this man is who I think he is, you’re the first to get away. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Really? Because it was pride that kept me here when my instincts told me to go home. It was pride that took me to the lake for my reward.”

“Reward?”

She groaned. “It’s stupid, but I beat my best time getting to the lookout, and I’d planned to reward myself by watching the sunrise. I was mad that I’d let his presence keep me from enjoying the view.” She dropped her head back and laughed. “So instead of getting in my car, I made a side trip to the lake. I was that close to leaving unharmed.”

Blake’s face darkened. “This wasn’t your fault. I don’t care if he shook your hand and said, ‘I’m going to attack you unless you go home.’ He’s still the criminal. He’s the one in the wrong. Not you.”

Marissa stepped over a fallen branch. “Thanks, but it’s hard not to think about what I could’ve done differently.”

Patchy sunlight filtered through the lush forest canopy. A soft breeze kicked up, lifting scents of shampoo and sweat from Blake’s body.

Marissa shook her thoughts back to the situation at hand. “Can you tell me more about Nash? That’s his name, right?” Her hand moved instinctually to her throat. She blinked through the fresh sting of tears. “I’ve heard you and your brothers use it, but no one’s filled me in on the specifics.”

“I linked Nash to the disappearances of four women about five years ago. The missing women were never recovered, but I know he took them. I saw it in his eyes when I confronted him.” His square jawline popped and clenched. Whatever he wasn’t sharing was painful and Marissa’s heart hurt for him, too.

“What does he look like?” Marissa asked.

Blake cast her a sidelong glance. “I’ll show you a picture when we get back. I would’ve done that at the station but West said you didn’t see the man who attacked you.”

“I didn’t. I thought a description might jar my memory about the man at the lake last summer.”

Blake glanced over his shoulder. “Nash has brown hair and eyes. He’s six foot. Average weight, but no definition. He wasn’t much to look at. No distinguishing marks, scars or tattoos. Of course, that was a while back. A lot could have happened since then.”

“Was he a smoker?”

“Yes.”

Ice curled through Marissa’s body. She’d been in the grips of a serial killer. The bruises on her face and throat throbbed at the thought. She pressed cool fingers against the aching pains.

“I’m going to find him.” Blake’s voice cracked the last ounce of composure Marissa had.

A hot, fat tear broke over her cheek and slid onto her jaw. Then another.

“Hey.” Blake stopped climbing. “Miss Lane.” He caught her trembling hand in his as she took another step without him. He squeezed gently before releasing her.

She swiped shaky fingertips across both eyelids before daring to look back. “I’m fine. Please call me Marissa.”

“You’re not fine, Marissa, but you’re going to be. I’m going to find this guy. I won’t let him get away again.” He lifted a white handkerchief in her direction.

The sincerity in Blake’s voice warmed her, and the sound of her name on his lips settled her fraying nerves. “I know.” She accepted the handkerchief and pressed it to her eyes, thankful for his comforting presence. “Who carries a handkerchief?”

“Me. All of us.” He fumbled for words, clearly uncomfortable telling her something so personal. “My brothers and I.”

Apparently, even that legendary Garrett confidence wasn’t bulletproof. Marissa smiled behind the soft cotton material, enjoying the aromatic blend of Blake’s soap and cologne caught in the wispy fabric. “I see.” She returned his quizzical glance. “Why?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“It’s a long hike.”

Blake turned his face to her and smiled. Not another lazy effort like he’d offered her before, but a true smile that reached his eyes and scaled the years away.

She’d found Blake devastatingly handsome as a straight-faced agent, but the smiling man beneath the badge was so much more. His ability to show such charm and compassion on a day as cursed as this was enough to weaken her knees. “I’d love to know, and honestly, I could use the distraction.”

He paused to look her in the eye. “Our granddad gave those to us when we were small. None of us used them until his funeral a few years back, but we all carried them to the service. That was the day I started bringing mine everywhere.” He looked away, into the forest, seemingly lost in the memory.

“You carry a piece of him,” she mused. “That’s sweet.”

He extended his hand. “Give me my hanky.”

She set the cloth in his hand with a smile. “You aren’t what you seem, Federal Agent Garrett.”

“Folks rarely are.”