“So, what do we do now?”
“I’m going to go through this file again,” Andrews said. “There has to be more in here that’s relevant. I just need to find it.”
“I’ll help you,” she said. She paused and looked at Andrews, “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“If I had just done what they wanted me to do, I’d have gotten you fired, but you’d be alive. You know that the odds of us surviving this are not good, right.”
He placed his hand on her shoulder. His touch sent a sensation down her spine. Andrews winked at her and smiled.
“You don’t know me, Julie, and you don’t know Rainhorse.”
Chapter 17
“How could you lose both of them?” Rice bellowed at Kelsey.
“Blackshear said that Alt had Agent Love in his custody and was seconds away from doing her in.”
“But he didn’t see Alt actually do the deed?”
“No.”
“And you haven’t heard from Alt in how long?”
“He’s four hours overdue from checking in,” Kelsey said. “He texted me this morning and said the job was done and that he’d call, but he hasn’t. I’ve called him over and over.”
Rice sighed heavily, “And Andrews?”
“Gone, too.”
“Jesus H!” Rice screamed. “Did you order him back here?”
“Yes, he said he was on his way to the airport, but he never showed. His phone goes straight to voicemail when you call him. We found his car, but no sign of him.”
“What about their cell phones? Have we tried triangulating their signals?”
“Both phones are shut off and the batteries have been removed,” Kelsey said. “They’ve ditched their cells.”
“So, we have no idea where he or Love are?”
“None.”
“There’s only one scenario,” Rice said. “Love somehow turned the tide on Alt, and overwhelmed him . . . “
“No way,” interrupted Kelsey. “Alt is huge and highly skilled at hand-to-hand. There is no way she could have overwhelmed him.”
“Well, she did,” Rice fired back. “Maybe she had a second gun on her ankle, who knows. She killed Alt.”
“Sir, there’s no evidence of that,” Kelsey said. “I sent a man to the fairgrounds where Alt was going to take care of Love. No one was there. No blood, no sign of struggle.”
“Love is too smart to leave a trail,” Rice insisted. “She killed him. I know it. Thanks to your dumbass plan, she now knows you set her up, so she called Andrews and warned him. They both disappeared . . . together.”
“We have to find them,” Kelsey said,
“We have to end this and we need to do this soon. I don’t have to tell you what will happen if . . .”
“I know, I know . . . I’m on it,” Kelsey said. “We have a full-on manhunt in the works: our agents, local PD, Highway Patrol, Sheriff’s Office. Their faces will be all over the six o’clock news as part of a terrorist alert. Somebody saw something. They’re out there. I’ll get them.”
Rice glared at Kelsey, “See to it, or we’re both fucked. It won’t be just me who goes down, you know that?”
Kelsey nodded, “Like I said, I’m on it.”
“You have the full resources of the FBI at your disposal, Kelsey. Go out there and get the job done.”
Chapter 18
Jim Andrews and Julie Love read through every bit of information they had at their disposal trying to piece together more of the puzzle. Andrews yawned and looked at his watch. It was nearly seven o’clock.
“I think we’re done,” he said. “I don’t know how many times we can look at it.”
Love sighed and nodded in agreement.
Andrews’ cell rang. He looked at the display, “It’s Rainhorse.”
“Put him on speaker.”
“Rain? It’s Jim. What’s the word?”
“You two are hot,” he said. “You are all over the news. They have labeled you as suspected terrorists—armed and dangerous.”
“Damn. My mother’s going to hear that,” Love groaned out loud.
“The entire state is looking for you,” Rainhorse continued. “Rice has a special team looking for you. They were issued a shoot-on-sight directive.”
“Shoot-on-sight?” Andrews repeated. “Are you certain?”
“I am.”
“People I work with are not going to believe any of this. I have friends on the force,” Andrews said.
“I am sure you do,” Rainhorse replied, “but do not risk calling them. The people who seek you have eyes and ears everywhere.”
“I work there, remember?” Andrews said. “I know how it’s done. They’ve tapped the phones of every relative, co-worker and friend we have, waiting for us to make a mistake.”
“Do not make one,” Rainhorse urged. “Stay hunkered down. Raid the fridge. Make yourself at home. Stay calm. I think the house has HBO. You are safe for now, as long as you do not do something stupid. I am working on something. I will call you in the morning.”
“Tell us what you are working on,” Love said. “Give us some hope.”
“I need to go,” Rainhorse said. “Stay put. Wait for my call, tomorrow.”
“Wait,” Andrews pleaded. “I think we are close to cracking the mystery of Wounded Falcon.”
“I know all about Wounded Falcon,” Rainhorse said.
“You do? Since it may get us all killed would you like to share . . .?”
“I will explain it all tomorrow. Stay alert. You two watch out for each other.”
“We will.”
Andrews heard the phone beep. Rainhorse ended the call. He looked at Love. Her hands were folded and her facial expression was non-expressive.
“I must say, you are taking this far better than I would have anticipated.”
Love scoffed, “Why? Because I’m a woman? You think women can’t handle life-threatening situations like a big, strong man? I was a homicide detective in Seattle for twelve years. I’ve had my life threatened more times than I can remember.”
Andrews raised both hands in a defensive position, “Whoa, slow down. It has nothing to do with you being a woman. From everything I’ve seen you have a bigger set of balls than my last three male partners had. This is about you being thrust into a situation where your employer is trying to hunt you down and kill you.”
Love nodded and sighed, “I know, I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”
“It’s okay.”
“How about you?” she asked. “How is it you’re handling this so well?”
“Rainhorse, that’s why.”
“You have that much confidence in him?”
“I do.”
“Then I do, too,” she said.
She looked at him. Their eyes made contact and lingered. Finally, Love turned away.
“What now?” he asked.
“I’m hungry. You?”
“You’re always hungry,” Andrews said.
“I have a healthy appetite. Shoot me. You in?”
“Yes, and the good news is, there’s food in the fridge and cupboards,” Andrews said.
“Like what?”
He shrugged, “Cold cuts, bread, soup, canned vegetables.”
“Pick your poison.”
“Hmm. I’ll eat just about anything,” he said. “You know, I do make a mean sandwich. Would you like to join me?”
“Sandwich, huh? What the hell. I’ll help. You take the cupboard. I’ll take the fridge.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Andrews said.
They ambled into the kitchen and set about placing items on the marble island top. Love pulled cheese, ham, turkey slices, lettuce, mayo and mustard. Andrews pulled bread, potato chips, pickles and a couple of cans of vegetables. Then he noticed something else.
“Love, you know how I told you this safe house was prepared by someone who knew what they were doing?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You’ll ne
ver believe what I just found . . .”
“Well, hello, you pretty thing,” she chirped, interrupting.
“What is it?” Andrews asked.
Love pulled an unopened 750ML bottle of Woodford Reserved Double Oaked Bourbon from a cabinet over the oven. She smiled and waved it at Andrews. He grinned involuntarily.
“That is some pretty good stuff, there,” he said.
“It’s fifty bucks a bottle.”
Andrews shook his head, “Sixty.”
“What were you saying before? Something about what you found?”
“Never mind—not important.”
She looked at the bottle and then back at Andrews, crinkling her nose and smiling devilishly as she held the bottle up, “We shouldn’t, should we?”
“It’s tempting after a day like today,” he replied. “What do you think?”
“Rainhorse said we should make ourselves at home,” she told him. “You’re here, I’m here, and this is here. This bottle sure feels homey to me.”
“All good points. What the hell? Open it.”
Ten minutes later they were in the living room, eating turkey and cheese sandwiches and potato chips, washing it down with Woodford Reserve.
“Damn, that’s good,” Love said.
“It is,” Andrews replied. “Pass the chips.”
Love giggled and tossed him the bag of chips, “What’s your story, anyway, Andrews?”
“My life is boring,” he said. “There’s nothing you’d care to hear.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Go on. Spill it. You can skip the basics. I already know them.”
“You do, huh?”
Love nodded, “I do. You were born and raised in a suburb of Louisville, Kentucky, though for the life of me, I cannot detect a southern accent. You graduated from the University of Kentucky, where you were a walk-on football player for a team that went three and eight in your senior year. Really, Andrews. You couldn’t walk on at Alabama?”
Andrews shrugged. Love continued.
“You then went to the University of Maryland and earned your master’s degree in criminology. You were recruited into the FBI immediately, and you’ve been there ever since. You’ve earned both the FBI Shield of Bravery and the Medal of Valor, and despite all evidence to the contrary, you have a stellar reputation.”
“You memorized my file,” he said.
“Not the good stuff,” she said, sipping her Woodford. “I want the inside story. A man who looks like you could have the pick of any woman he wants. Why have you never taken the plunge?”
“Well . . .” Andrews began.
“Wait! If you say, ‘I never found the right girl,’ you’re going to make me vomit,” Love interrupted. “Just saying.”
“Since that isn’t a sight . . . or smell, I care to experience, I will not say that, then.”
“So, have you been close?”
“To marriage? No.”
“Well . . . anything serious?”
He nodded, “Once, when I was almost thirty. She was my boss and mentor. Special Agent in Charge, Maggie Olenski.”
“Hmm, this is interesting,” Love said, taking a healthy swig of bourbon. “You aren’t above seducing your own boss? I will bookmark that one.”
Andrews’ face reddened, “It wasn’t like that. She was more than ten years older and I trained under her.”
“I think I like this story. Let’s get out of the kitchen and get to the heart of this matter.”
Andrews chuckled but noted her speech was beginning to slur. She picked up both glasses and the bottle of Woodford, now nearly a quarter empty. Giving him a head nod, she motioned for him to follow her into the living room. She sat in the middle of the sofa and patted the area right next to her. He sat beside her, a few inches away. She scooted toward him until their thighs almost touched. She poured two shots.
She held up her glass. Andrews held his up.
“Cheers,” she said. “To new friendships.”
Andrews smiled and nodded, “To new friendships, indeed.”
He took a sip of bourbon. Love downed her entire shot in one gulp. She sat the glass on the table and flashed Andrews a challenging smile. He returned the smile and down the rest of his bourbon, also in one gulp. Love poured another shot of bourbon in each glass. Love downed hers immediately.
“Maybe you should slow down on the Woodford,” he said.
“Nonsense,” she replied. “I’m not driving. I have a gun and a big, strong FBI agent here to protect me. I have no idea whether either of us will be alive tomorrow at this time but I feel safe for the moment. Can you tell me a better time to have a couple of drinks too many?”
He shrugged, “Guess not.”
“Go ahead. So, this Maggie chick . . . she was older and hot for you . . .?”
“Not right away. Maggie was forty-two and I was twenty-nine,” he continued. “We worked a lot of field assignments together. She was a good teacher and she was beautiful, but . . .”
“But what?” Love asked. “Wait, don’t tell me. She was married, wasn’t she?”
“How did you know that?” he asked. “That wasn’t in my file.”
“I’m an investigator, remember?” Love downed her shot of bourbon. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m really keen on ‘buts.’”
“Hmm. I’ll remember that,” Andrews noted.
“Pour me another shot and continue,” she said.
Andrews grabbed the bottle and poured. When he stopped after downing a third of the glass, she frowned and motioned for him to continue. He downed the rest.
“She was in a bad marriage,” Andrews continued, pouring two more healthy-sized shots. “She was never home. Her husband had a third-rate job. He had a difficult time handling her success. His own career never took off. He really hated that she worked alongside men.”
“You mean young, strong, good-looking men?” Love added.
“I guess. He punished her by sleeping around, himself. He made no secret that he was out at night trolling for women while his wife was out of town on assignment risking her life.”
“He sounds like a bastard,” Love said.
Andrews nodded. His recollection of Maggie seemed to stir emotion.
“One night, we were staying at this run-down motel. We had rooms next to each other. I could hear her through the wall. She was on the phone with her husband. She was crying. I hated myself for listening but I couldn’t turn away. When she hung up, she continued to cry. I left my room and tapped on her door. She asked who it was and I told her it was me . . . and . . .”
He slowed, in deep reflection.
“Jesus, man, you can’t stop there,” Love urged.
“Oh . . . sorry. She opened up. She told me everything going on in her life. I was blown away at the emotional pain she was suffering. She was such a strong woman. I thought she was hard as nails. Turns out, that was all on the outside. Inside, she was hurting, and hurting bad.”
“Aaaand?”
“Well, that night I held her and comforted her,” Andrews continued. “She wanted to make love, I could tell, but I couldn’t do it. She was married and in a vulnerable state. I held her and we both fell asleep in each other’s arms, but that’s all that happened.”
“What happened next?” Love asked, placing her hand on Andrews’ arm.
“We grew closer and closer,” he reflected. “About a week later, we made love together for the first time. It was incredible. I’d had sex with many women, but nothing felt like what I experienced with her. There was a real connection. From then on, we were an item, virtually inseparable. Then, I made a huge mistake.”
“Did you use the ‘L’ word?”
Andrews nodded, “I did use the ‘L’ word, but the word was ‘leave.’ I wanted her to leave her husband.”
“But she didn’t want to.”
“No, and I was shocked. I mean, there were no children, nothing to really hold a loveless marriage together, but it turned out her husband was an
alcoholic and going through recovery. She wanted to give the marriage one last chance. At that point, she broke up with me.”
“Oh my god, Jim, I’m so sorry,” she consoled. “How long did your relationship last?”
“About eleven months,” he replied. “We completed an assignment at the end of November. The following week, she flew home to be with him for Christmas. She was going to start over, she said. I had no idea what was about to happen.”
“What happened?”
“Her husband fell off the wagon. They fought about it. She told him she was going to leave him, and then . . . he shot her dead.”
Love gasped, “Oh no! He killed her?” She took her hand off his arm and placed it over her own mouth to squelch the gasp.
“Her service weapon was on the night stand. He pleaded for her not to leave him. When she told him it was over, he calmly walked into the bedroom, pulled her weapon off the stand, released the safety and shot her dead.”
“Jim . . . I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. What happened to him?”
“He called his mother, in tears. He confessed to what he did and what happened. Then he turned the gun on himself.”
Love gasped again, “Oh my god! That’s horrible!”
Andrews sighed again, once again falling into deep reflection. Love placed her hand on his arm again, this time brushing her fingers lightly over his forearm.
“That is so awful, Jim. I’m sorry I made you relive it,” Love said. “I never would have asked you if I’d known this . . .”
“It’s not your fault,” Andrews interjected. “You know, I’ve never shared this story with anyone else.”
“As much as I feel bad hearing you relive it, I’m glad you trusted me to tell it to.”
Andrews nodded and smiled, placing his hand on top of hers, still on his arm. He squeezed it lightly, “I do trust you. After all, you are risking your life to save me. You almost got yourself killed today.”
Love leaned her head in and placed it on his shoulder. Andrews moved his arm around her and she snuggled into him. She could smell his fragrance and it was stirring things inside her. She was drunk, and with her, the drunker she got, the braver she got.
“How long did it take for you to get over that?” she asked.
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