by Misty Evans
Will shifted his weight between his feet. “Dude, I can’t talk to that girl. She’s…well, mental.”
“Will,” Emma scolded. She shot Mitch a look. “How about if you go get Danika and take her to the horse barn and Will can stay here to guard me? I barely unpacked anything from my bag from the last go-around. All I have to do is throw my toothbrush in and a couple of other things. Once you have Danika in the barn, have her move Twinkie from his stall and start cleaning it. Carla Moses will be with her and can keep an eye on her. While she works on Twinkie’s stall, you can come back for me. I’ll explain to Danika about the change of plans, and you can fill in Officer Moses. We can all work on the barn for an hour and keep that girl from losing her last ounce of sanity on this very emotionally charged day. Seriously, Mitch. She’s borderline suicidal. If she were to commit suicide because I denied her a chance to see Twinkie, I couldn’t live with myself.”
Will looked at the floor. A muscle in Mitch’s jaw worked as he stood stock still, sizing up her determination as well as calculating his own. It was easier to read him after their night together. His defenses were up, but they were less solid, more fluid. He wanted what was best for her safety, but he also wanted to make her happy.
“Please, Mitch,” she said. “Danika needs this, and there will be three of you here, guarding her and me, all of you armed and quite capable of taking on Chris or whoever else might show up.”
Another long pause as he stewed, but her pleading tone must have done the trick.
“Don’t let her out of your sight,” he said to Will, heading for the back door. To Emma, he said, “One hour. That’s it. Then we’re out of here.”
She reached out, caught his hand on the doorknob. “Thank you.”
He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “I sure hope I don’t regret this.”
As he left her standing there with Will and the dogs, she reached for her drawer of M&Ms and let out a sigh.
I hope I don’t either.
The state van was a simple white Chevy with no passenger windows and a dented front bumper. Juvenile Corrections was printed on both of the front doors.
Officer Moses wasn’t in the driver’s seat. She was probably unlocking Danika’s cuffs.
Mitch waited outside the van, his eyes scanning the area as rain drenched him. The sky overhead was dark with clouds, but these clouds were welcome, relieving the drought for a few minutes and helping quench the wildfires.
Merry fucking Christmas.
People all over the world were celebrating a day of family, friends, and gift giving. Plenty of people weren’t as well. But regardless of religious affiliation or personal circumstances, no one could deny that the rain was a miracle.
If there was a God, then He had a pretty shitty personality if He got off on holding out on the rain until today.
Christmas and the rain aside, the day had already set Mitch’s teeth on edge. Goodsman and Brown were still loose. No one had any idea where they were.
What if the two of them had put those people up to calling in and reporting they’d seen them in that house? A lark to get the local police, SWAT team, and FBI gathered there, instead of out looking for them. Meanwhile, they’d fled down to Mexico like Emma believed.
Or maybe the people who’d reported seeing them were legit and honestly believed they’d seen the famous actor and his number one fan in that house. Either way, Goodsman and Brown had had plenty of time to get to wherever they were headed.
He just hoped it was miles away from the ranch and Emma.
No one had emerged from the van, so Mitch stepped forward and knocked on the darkly tinted passenger window. “Officer Moses, it’s me, Mitch Holden. Dr. Collins asked me to escort you and Danika to the horse barn. She’ll join us shortly.”
There was no response.
Mitch’s gut tightened. He stepped back, looked over his shoulder. Had Carla already taken Danika to the barn?
Walking partway across the yard, he scanned the barn. The front doors were still closed, no one idling around.
Jogging back to the van, he pulled up short when his eyes landed on the side door. Seeping from the bottom edge of the door, bright, red liquid dripped onto the running board.
Blood.
Shit.
Drawing his gun, Mitch closed the distance to the van and put his back against the side, gaze sweeping the drive, the yard, the pasture. He saw nothing moving, only rain drops hitting a few tiny puddles. He heard nothing either, except the same rain.
Danika.
He slid up to the driver side window, cupped his hands around his eyes and peered in.
No Carla, but he saw what looked like blood smeared across the headrest.
“Officer Moses,” he called, wiping water from his face. “Are you alright?”
No answer.
Mitch looked back at the house. God Almighty, don’t let Danika have gone off the deep end and killed a police officer. Emma will never forgive herself.
“Danika? Remember me? I was here the other day when you came to ride Harry. I mean, Twinkie. I know this is a rough day for you—it’s a rough one for me, too.” Like the girl would believe that if he didn’t back it up with the reason. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to continue. “I lost my twin brother five years ago on this day, Danika. I know how bad the holidays can suck. How about you open up the door and we can talk?”
Silence came from the van. Not even a hint of movement. The blood continued to drip, pooling enough to run off onto the wet ground beneath it.
Mitch felt eyes on him and glanced up to see Will peering out the kitchen window at him. Concern etched the older man’s face. Mitch flashed his gun and cocked a head toward the van. Then he gave Will the sign to stay put.
Don’t leave Emma.
The kitchen curtain fell, Will’s face disappearing.
Grabbing the door handle, Mitch gave a tug. The sliding door was locked.
Great. The only way in was through the front, and he had to hope Danika hadn’t locked all the doors.
He also hoped the girl hadn’t killed herself in a murder-suicide.
I should have heard gunshots.
Did Danika have a shiv? Had she struck the guard with a heavy object, leaving blood on the headrest?
Mitch eased along the side, still listening for sounds inside the van as he gripped the driver side door handle. This one gave when he tugged.
“Danika?” he said, leaning slowly into the cab, gun ready. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
When he didn’t hear even the sound of her breathing, Mitch hefted himself up, braced his left hand on the seat, and hooked his gun hand around as he took in the interior of the van.
“Ah, hell.”
Danika sat on the bench seat, blank eyes staring up at the ceiling, blood flowing from long, deep wounds running up the insides of her arms. In one hand, she held a knife. Not a shiv, but an honest-to-God three-inch blade.
Officer Moses lay face down on the floor at her feet, her blood mingling with Danika’s as the stream ran across the rubber mat over to the side door.
Mitch reached between the bucket seats and felt for a pulse on Carla, found none. Stretching back, he touched Danika’s neck, hoping against hope he might find her still alive.
Her eyelids fluttered—for half a heartbeat, he thought he’d imagined it in the dim interior. But they fluttered again and then he found it…the faint throb of her pulse under his fingers.
“Danika, can you hear me?”
Her lips twitched, and damn, he couldn’t move fast enough. Whirling around, he found the button to unlock the doors, then he bailed out of the driver’s side and threw open the side door.
“Danika, hang in there,” he said, moving Carla out of the way as gently, but as quickly as possible. The woman’s jugular had been severed on the left side.
Mitch used a hanky to remove the knife from Danika’s hands, laying it in the front seat. Finding the keys on Carla’s belt, he unlocked D
anika’s handcuffs.
That’s when it hit him.
Her wrists had been cuffed together and then chained to a special reinforced armrest. The chain consisted of two metal links. There was no give to it, no way the girl could have reached forward to slit Carla’s throat.
Maybe she’d done it once Carla had left her seat and was about to unhook her. But then, how did blood get on the headrest? Had Carla grabbed at her neck, then grabbed the seat before she’d fallen?
Mitch’s head rang with a warning bell.
Shedding his shirt, he ripped it in two, wrapping each of Danika’s bleeding arms to staunch the flow as he kept looking out the front windows. Keeping his gun in hand, he jumped out of the van.
There was still no movement, no one in sight. Carefully, he lifted Danika from the seat and started for the house.
The kitchen door flew open and Emma ran out, Will on her heels. “Oh, my God,” she cried. “What happened?”
“Get in the house,” Mitch said, paranoia swamping him. As Emma met him halfway across the yard, he nearly stumbled. “Emma, get in the goddamn house!”
Hearing the fear in his voice, she met his eyes, then let Will drag her back to the kitchen door. “Oh, Danika,” she said, when Mitch jogged into the kitchen with the girl. She brushed Danika’s face with a hand. “What did you do?”
“Call 911,” Mitch said. It was a long shot with the roads still congested, but worth a try. The van had gotten through. Maybe the cops and an ambulance could as well.
Will swept the cups off the table so Mitch could lay Danika there. “Already did.”
The big man had Emma’s first aid kit out as well. Mitch locked the kitchen door, then went to work on saving a girl who didn’t want to be saved.
Chapter Sixteen
I have to save her.
“Why would she do this?” Emma said, bringing a bowl of water over to clean Danika’s hands. Mitch had told them what he’d found. Officer Moses was dead, Danika nearly so. The girl had used a knife.
Her thin, dark hands were covered with blood and more was coming as Mitch unwound his wet shirt from one of Danika’s wrists.
“Don’t answer that,” Emma said. “I know why she did this, but how the hell did she get a knife?”
Blood was everywhere. It covered Mitch’s torso, his arms. Will had brought pillows and they’d propped Danika’s elbows on them, lifting her arms above her heart to slow the flow of blood.
Mitch and Will wrapped the girl’s arms in bandages and gauze. Mitch grabbed an afghan from Emma’s pile in the living room and covered Danika. He touched the girl’s forehead, then checked the pulse in her neck. “She’s definitely shock-y. Any chance you’ve got a hot water bottle or heating pad?”
“My heating pad is upstairs,” Emma said, heading for the doorway. “I’ll grab it.”
Will opened the pantry door. “I can make a field IV.”
“Do I want to know what that is?” Emma asked.
“Sugar water,” was his only reply.
Sugar water. A heating pad. Gauze pads and bandages. Not exactly first-class medical treatment for a girl who’d slit her wrists, but what else could they do until an ambulance arrived?
“Emma,” Mitch said, stopping her. His hand left a bloody print on her forearm. “You stay here with Will. I’ll get the heating pad.”
“Okay.” She handed him a dish towel and let him pass her. “Why?”
“Just stay with her.”
She didn’t argue, seeing the consternation on his face as he worked over the dish towel. Hustling back to Danika, she fiddled with the blanket and noticed that blood was already seeping through the bandages. Danika’s face was an ashen gray, her normally pink lips bluish.
Will emerged from the pantry with her sugar and a bottle of water. “Boil some water,” he said. “I’m going to the barn for tubing.”
Surely he didn’t mean… “That tube Mitch used on Second Chance? That’s too big for Danika’s arm.”
Will opened the door, swung out, Lady on his heels. He told the dog to stay. “Lock this behind me,” he said to Emma. “I’ll knock three times when I come back. Don’t open it for anyone but me.”
Emma shooed him with her hand. “I know, I know.” Danika was growing paler by the moment. “Just hurry.”
Mitch returned with the heating pad. He cocked his chin at the door. “Where’d he go?”
“To get tubing for the IV.” Emma grabbed the end of the heating pad cord and plugged it in to the wall. “How soon do you think the ambulance will get here?”
“No telling.” His phone rang and he answered it while situating the pad under the blanket. “Tell me you found that bastard Goodsman and you have him in custody.”
Emma rinsed her hands, then filled a pot with water as Mitch punched the speaker button on his phone and a male voice flooded the kitchen. It was the same one she’d heard earlier.
“Wish I could,” Agent Harris said. “Any chance you’re on the way to the safe house yet?”
“Not yet.” Mitch blew out a frustrated breath, rubbing his forehead. “We have a problem.”
Harris’s voice was gruff. “What problem?”
“Dr. Collins was scheduled to see a patient from the juvenile detention center twenty miles away. The girl is on the kitchen table right now, bleeding out. We staunched the flow and are waiting for the ambulance and police, but who knows how long that might take.”
“What the fuck happened to the kid?”
“It appears she killed her guard and tried to kill herself. Slit her wrists.”
Harris paused, then said, “You sound skeptical.”
Mitch ran a hand over his face, keeping his gaze on Danika’s motionless form. “She had a pocket knife stuck between her cuffed hands. A decent enough knife with six different types of blades. Something a survivalist might use, not some kid in juvie who made a shiv out of a plastic fork. Also, from the way she was secured to the van seat, there’s no way she could have reached the guard to slit her throat. I’m not even sure she could have turned the knife on herself, her cuffs were so tight. It doesn’t add up, and I didn’t have time to thoroughly analyze the scene. I had to administer first aid in order to try and save her. We’re attempting to stabilize her now but we’ve got little to no medical supplies.”
“Damn it,” Harris swore softly. “Do you think this is somehow tied to Goodsman?”
Emma had to sit down. Her pulse beat in her ear like a freight train.
Mitch’s gaze finally met hers. “Who else? I have to go with the assumption that Chris Goodsman, Linda Brown, or one of their cohorts hopped a ride on that van.”
“Pack the girl in your truck along with the doctor, and haul ass out of there, Holden.”
“I’m seriously onboard with that, Coop, but if I move this girl, she will die.”
“There’s a hired hand there, right?” Harris countered. “Leave the girl with him to wait for the ambulance. Your job is to get Dr. Collins to the safe house, asap.”
Emma forced her knees to lock so she could stand up. “I’m not leaving until I know Danika is safe.”
“Dr. Collins.” Agent Harris’s voice took on a restrained, patient tone. Similar to the one she often used with irrational clients. “There is nothing you can do for the girl at this time.”
“Agent Harris, Danika might be dying on my kitchen table because of me. Because I pissed off Chris and Linda and they’re looking for revenge.”
“I understand you feel responsible, but it’s not your fault any more than it is mine. Plus, it is possible this has nothing to do with Goodsman, right? The scene Holden discovered may be exactly how it looks—she slit her wrists.”
Mitch was staring at her, waiting, keeping his own opinion buried behind his unfathomable gray eyes.
Emma stared back, reaching out to lay a hand on Danika’s shoulder. “If you were in my situation, Agent Harris, and a young girl was bleeding out in front of you, regardless of the reason, would you leave her
and run off to a safe house?”
Another pause, this one infinitely longer. The corner of Mitch’s lips quirked as if he were suppressing a somber smirk.
“Dr. Collins, your presence at the farmhouse may actually be putting your patient in more danger,” Harris reasoned. “Leaving may be the smartest thing you can do.”
Three knocks sounded on the door, making Emma jump. Mitch halted her from answering it by lifting a silent hand. “She won’t leave, Coop,” he said, looking out the window and then letting Will in. “You may as well save your breath.”
Will carried a rolled up section of narrow tubing to the sink and checked on the pot of water that was just beginning to steam.
Harris cleared his throat on the other end, sighed. “I’ll check the ETA of the ambulance and police backup, see if I can get an extra car to escort you out of the valley. Meantime, stay safe.”
“Will do,” Mitch answered. “As soon as the EMTs get here, we’ll take off.”
“By the time you land, Cruz and Heaton should be there. I sent them your way earlier. I figured one way or another, we’re getting you two out of there, even if it takes a few more taskforce members to help out.”
“Sophie’s going to kill me for taking Nels away from her on Christmas,” Mitch said. “Who’s Heaton?”
“Brooke Heaton. A gal Dupé sent down from L.A. She’s an expert investigator on religious terrorism and ritualistic crimes and symbols. He’s letting me try out a few potentials for the team and thought she might be helpful with this Tom Monahan shit.”
“Assigning her to me on Christmas Day.” There was the slightest drollness to Mitch’s statement. “Breaking her in properly, huh?”
“Well, if you’d start working for me fulltime, I wouldn’t need a bunch of unknowns to fill in.”
Mitch again met Emma’s gaze full on. “I’m giving it serious consideration.”
“Look at the bright side.” Harris’s tone held a hint of teasing. “You can visit your mother more.”
Mitch’s expression soured. “Right.”
The two disconnected. Without realizing it, Emma had switched her touch from Danika to Mitch. He stared down at her while Will boiled the tubing.