Her Master Defender

by Karen Anders

“I see. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was asked not to by the director, as he wanted a completely unbiased investigation. It was need-to-know.”

  “I can accept that. His parents deserve to find out what really happened to their son. Right now, Chris, I’m getting the feeling that I don’t have all the answers. What happened to James in those two days he was missing is still a mystery. I intend to dig until I find out what happened.”

  “That tenacity is the first reason I hired you, and your sense of justice is the second. Check back with me this afternoon.”

  She agreed, disconnected the call and went to the closet to get her coat. Grabbing her cell from the table, she pulled the keys for the rental out of her pocket and left the house.

  She drove over to the sheriff’s department and once inside found Deputy Garza at his desk. He looked up, and for a quick second, she could see his dislike of her in his eyes and his expression shuttered.

  She settled in the chair beside his desk and let him squirm for a moment. “I thought you’d be gone by now,” he said with that phony charm that was now as transparent as tape.

  “I bet you did. I want to know why you didn’t mention to me that you were good friends with Randall Mayer. Hunting buddies, in fact.”

  His lips tightened and he leaned back in a deceptively casual manner. The man was as tight as a drum.

  “How is that relevant?” he sneered, his eyes narrowing.

  “It’s relevant because you handled evidence connected to a suspicious death. You should have recused yourself and let someone else handle it.”

  “What are you saying, Special Agent Dalton? I covered up clues or tried to derail this investigation?”

  “I didn’t say anything about that, Garza, but now that you’ve brought it up... Did you?”

  He smirked and said, “Very funny. I’m a deputy sheriff and I uphold the law. I wouldn’t tamper with evidence.”

  The phone rang and he picked up the receiver. After listening for a few seconds, he said, “Where? I’ll be right there.”

  He stood. “Carl Thompson’s body was just found in a ravine outside the hospital.”

  “What?” Alarmed, Amber rose. First she found out that Garza knew Mayer, and now this. Her senses went into overload. “How?”

  “Gunshot.”

  He brushed past her, but she followed him out into the parking lot. “Wait a second. I’m not done questioning you.”

  He kept walking and she moved around in front of him. “A murder takes precedence over your unfounded conspiracy theories about me. Talk to the sheriff if you have a complaint. Now, get out of my way.”

  He stepped closer, everything about him threatening. “This isn’t over,” she bit out and turned toward her car.

  She pulled out her cell phone as she reached the driver’s side of her car. Just as she was going to dial Chris, pain exploded in the back of her head. She fell face-first onto the cold pavement, the impact of the asphalt scraping the skin of her cheek.

  Shock crackled through her. Her cell phone tumbled out of her hand, coming to rest just under the driver’s-side door. Dazed, dizzy and incapacitated, Amber couldn’t move as a wave of nausea rolled through her. When she tried to crawl, pressure landed in the middle of her back, pressing her down. She turned her head, as the pant leg of a khaki uniform and brown boot filled her vision. Her arms were pulled viciously behind her back and the cold feel of steel snicked around her wrists. Her eyes slid shut as another wave of dizziness took hold of her, the sudden, crushing weight of a headache making it hard to think. She was roughly lifted, and her head lolled back, the harsh breathing of a man heavy in the frosted air, then the sound of a trunk being opened. Then the empty sensation, as if she was floating for a split second.

  Her body landed heavily, her shoulder wrenching from the awkward position. He violently shoved a gag between her lips, the taste of oil heavy on her tongue, and she fought to open her eyes. Then a binding was placed over her mouth and tied behind her head, pain sizzling across her scalp as he roughly brushed over the raw abrasion where he’d hit her. Panic clawed at her throat and she tried to move, but dizziness gripped her again. She managed to open her eyes as the trunk lid descended, cutting off the sunlight and latching with an ominous, final click. She felt the car lurch into motion as she lost consciousness.

  * * *

  Tristan pulled up to the house, noting the absence of Amber’s car. The emptiness he’d felt this morning when he got up intensified. She was gone. Finally. Off to her much-deserved vacation. The way he’d acted last night was for the best. He wasn’t sure he could hold her and then let her go. So a quick, painless goodbye. He winced as he got out of the vehicle and headed up the walk. He couldn’t convince himself that something real hadn’t happened with her. But the situation hadn’t changed.

  He was going back into Force Recon. He had six more weeks here and then he’d be out of the US. With his schedule and her going back to DC, clean and quick had been the best course of action.

  He opened the door and stopped dead. Her suitcase was at the bottom of the stairs and her laptop was sitting on his kitchen table. He looked down at his watch and, sure enough, it was after noon.

  He pulled out his cell phone and put a call through to her. It rang and rang until it went to voice mail. He walked over to the laptop and woke it up. It was on the password screen, so there was no way to know what she’d been working on.

  He went into the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee and poured himself a mug, on edge, waiting for his cell to ring so that he could hear her voice.

  After forty-five minutes, he dialed again and it rang and rang. Then it was picked up.

  “Hello?”

  It was a man’s voice and Tristan got a sick feeling in his gut. “Who is this?”

  Cautiously the man said, “Deputy McKenzie. Who is this?”

  “Master Sergeant Tristan Michaels. Where is Amber?”

  “Amber?”

  “Special Agent Amber Dalton. This is her phone.”

  “Then you got a problem, sir. I found this phone under a vehicle.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Mono County Sheriff’s Department parking lot, the back one where we keep the cruisers.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  He ran back out to his car and drove as quickly as he could to the sheriff’s department. Pulling up, he saw a man in a deputy’s uniform standing next to... His stomach sank... It was Amber’s rental car.

  He didn’t park, but lurched out of the driver’s seat, not even bothering to close his door.

  As he approached the man, Tristan’s eyes went over the car. “You McKenzie?” he barked, and the guy nodded, Amber’s phone still in his gloved hand. Tristan took it when he lifted his arm and opened his palm. “This is her car. Have you seen her? She’s about five-eleven, long blond hair, green eyes.”

  “Right, drop-dead gorgeous blonde. Yeah, she’s hard to miss. I remember seeing her and you, too, before with Garza.”

  “Yes, that’s right. Have you seen her today?”

  “Sure did. She was here earlier at about eleven. She spoke with Sean, then left with him. They looked like they were arguing to me, but I could be wrong.”

  “Is Garza here?”

  “Yeah, he just got back from a murder over at the hospital in Bishop.”

  “What? Who?”

  “Dr. Carl Thompson. He’s one of our autopsy guys. Damn shame. Gunshot.”

  Cold dread snaked down Tristan’s spine. He took off at a run for the sheriff’s department with the guy shouting, “Hey, you can’t leave your car here!” Ignoring the woman at reception, he barreled through until he caught sight of Garza. The man saw him coming and the look on his face was defensive and sly. Tristan knew. He just knew. Garza was involve
d somehow in James’s death. He didn’t know how, but Amber was onto it. It had to be the reason she hadn’t left.

  Tristan never slowed. He brought all two hundred and sixty pounds of protective, enraged muscle into his forward momentum as Garza rose from his chair then backpedaled at the swiftness of Tristan’s charge. He slammed into Garza, propelling him rapidly across the short space that separated him from the wall. Tristan shoved him hard, the man trying to pry Tristan’s hands loose. Chairs scraped across the floor and shouts sounded out behind him, but his focus was on Garza and it never wavered. “Where is she, you son of a bitch!”

  “Who?”

  Tristan’s face contorted. “Don’t play dumb with me!”

  He struggled against Tristan’s grip, but Tristan slammed him again, holding on tight. “Let go of me!”

  “Answer me! I know she was arguing with you. Amber! Where is she?”

  “What? I don’t know. She was here and she left. I’ve been at a murder scene for the last two hours.”

  The sheriff’s voice boomed across the office. “What the hell is going on here?”

  Hands grabbed Tristan and pulled him off Garza. Tension tightened in the room as he glared at Garza.

  “He thinks I know where Amber Dalton is,” Garza said, straightening his uniform. “I don’t. I told him she was here and she left.”

  “She couldn’t have left! Her car’s still parked outside and her cell phone was underneath it. If you’ve harmed her, you bastard—”

  “What are you saying?” the sheriff demanded, cutting him off.

  “Special Agent Amber Dalton has been taken. She’s missing!”

  * * *

  Tristan stalked to his car. The sheriff had dragged him and Garza into his office. He’d been concerned about Amber but had insisted that Tristan leave the station unless he had proof that Garza was involved in her disappearance. He agreed to impound her car and keep it here under lock and key until Tristan contacted NCIS. Tristan kept her phone.

  When he got to his vehicle, her cell phone rang and Tristan wheeled into a parking spot, answering, “Hello.”

  “Who’s this?” a male voice said.

  “Who’s this?” Tristan demanded.

  “Amber’s boss, Supervisory Special Agent in Charge Chris Vargas. And you are?”

  “Master Sergeant Tristan Michaels. I’m working with Amber.”

  “Where is she? I’m checking in. Amber was supposed to call me. She’s never late.”

  “I was just about to call you. I can’t find her. I have her cell and I found her car here at the Mono County Sheriff’s Department. She was here to see a deputy and now she’s missing.”

  Tristan heard a voice in the background. “Hang on. I’m putting you on speaker. I have Amber’s coworkers here with me. Special Agents Vincent Fitzgerald and Beau Jerrott.”

  He heard another man’s voice. “This is Fitzgerald. This deputy’s last name wouldn’t happen to be ‘Garza,’ would it?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “That’s bad news. Amber asked me to do some checking for her regarding Sean Garza’s last two jobs. Both sheriffs said he was an egotistical jerk. He had altercations with other deputies, suspicion of abuse in both places. One of the deputies in Plato, Colorado, went missing. They questioned Garza, but they found nothing to connect him to the deputy’s disappearance. He told me that he suspected Garza, but when he quit, there was nothing he could do to hold him there. That case has gone cold and is still open.”

  Tristan hit the steering wheel hard with the heel of his hand. Panic was not a normal state for him. Ever. He needed to calm down, think rationally, but the possibility that Garza had already killed Amber made him crazy with gut-clenching pain and rage. “I know he has her, but I can’t prove it and I have no authority here to force anything,” he said through clenched teeth.

  Another man’s voice with a hint of a French accent came over the line. Must be the other agent, Jerrott. “That’s a bold good-for-nuthin’ to take her in broad daylight outside a sheriff’s department. Sounds like he thinks he’s invincible.”

  “It gets worse. The doctor that did the autopsies of both Connelly and Mayer was murdered today. When we saw him yesterday, he had a black eye and was favoring his arm. Said he walked into a door, but he could have been worked over. If he covered something up from the autopsies... I don’t like this at all.”

  Chris’s voice came back on the line. “Sit tight, Master Sergeant. We’re heading out there now.”

  “Thank God. Hurry.”

  Tristan went back to his town house, but he couldn’t sit still, and finally he couldn’t stand this inaction. He had to find her, and the only clue he had was that damn list of members from Sportsmen Unlimited. He brought up the website and went through the list. As he got close to the end, despair settled in until... Dammit. The name jumped out at him like a snake out of a bush.

  Scott Werner, MWTC’s chief of police.

  He called the police department, but Chief Werner wasn’t there. Tristan indicated it was an emergency and they patched him through to his wife. She explained he was off the grid, as cell-phone reception up in the mountains was spotty.

  That was when Tristan felt a glimmer of hope. “Mountains? What is he doing in the mountains?”

  “Hunting this weekend with his friends at my brother-in-law’s cabin. It’s quite a ways up into the Sierra Nevada.”

  “Can I get the address, Mrs. Werner? I must speak with him now. It’s urgent.”

  “Oh, dear. Of course.”

  As she rattled it off, Tristan typed it into his phone and hit the navigation button. He ran upstairs to his room and stripped out of his clothes. He donned long johns then his Gore-Tex mountaineering pants, both items designed to handle moisture, along with a long-johns undershirt, cotton pullover and Gore-Tex shell. Downstairs, he grabbed his heavy parka and stamped his feet into two layers of boots.

  Stuffing his heavy-duty gloves into his pockets, he zipped the parka and pulled out his cap. He set it over his head and ears. He pulled out a desk drawer, removed his gun case and opened it. Checking the clip and the safety, he tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans, grabbed his keys and slipped out the door.

  He called Special Agent Vargas, but they must have been on their flight, because there was no answer. He disconnected the call and decided to try him later after he’d had a chance to talk to the chief, who could hopefully shed some light on where Garza might have taken Amber.

  He drove way too fast, but it still took him thirty minutes to get to the base of the road that wound up into the mountains. He had to slow down to handle the switchbacks.

  As he got close he noticed a lot of tire tracks and, for whatever reason, a sense that he had developed over many combat tours tingled. Not one to ignore his instinctive sense for danger, Tristan drove his car off to the side of the road behind one of the parked vehicles.

  He slipped out of the car and closed it as silently as possible. At this time the sun was starting to dip into the horizon, the day spinning into twilight as he crouched and ghosted through the trees. He heard voices and approached, using all his training to stay not only hidden but silent.

  He saw the cabin ahead of him. More parked vehicles and two men standing outside smoking. There were lights on in the cabin, casting a yellow glow on the snow. Tristan used trees for cover as he ran from one trunk to another on the hard-packed snow, luckily not leaving any tracks.

  He was close to the window when he heard a familiar voice and his blood ran cold. He made it to the window and he crouched, lifting his head just enough to peer inside. Relief rushed through him. He saw Amber, her long blond hair spilling across the floor, her hands cuffed behind her back, her face pale, eyes closed, her cheek scraped, an obvious bruise forming on her delicate skin.

  Th
e door opened and Garza strode in with Werner right behind him. He approached Amber and went to one knee, grabbing her by the hair, dragging her up.

  Her eyes popped open. He could see that she was hurt, dazed, but her eyes blazed defiance. She was magnificent. Garza said something to her and her face froze in shock and horror. Then she snarled and kicked him hard in the chest with both feet. He flew backward and Werner helped him up.

  Garza’s face was a red mask of hatred and threat as he shrugged off the chief’s hands.

  Trying to stay calm, Tristan pulled out his cell but saw immediately that there was no signal. He debated going back down the mountain and getting help, but he was afraid to leave Amber. He had no idea what they had planned for her, but he was damned happy she was still alive. He shoved the phone back into his pocket, blindsided that Chief Werner was involved in whatever had happened to James. There was only one way to save Amber and it meant letting himself get caught. Deciding that he couldn’t take the chance on leaving her, he went to the corner of the cabin. There was no one there. He crept forward but froze when he felt the barrel of a gun poke into the center of his back.

  “Don’t move.”

  Now all he had to do was survive.

  And, hell, he was a master at it.

  Chapter 13

  As soon as Chris landed, he checked his cell and saw that he’d missed a call from Tristan, but when he tried to reach him the call went right to voice mail. He called Colonel Jacobs’s office and talked to Corporal Morgan, who was very concerned. He told Chris as soon as he hit the base to come straight to headquarters. The colonel would be waiting.

  Beau was getting the rental while Vin and Chris grabbed the luggage. As soon as Beau got to the entrance, they loaded up the vehicle and started out for Pickel Meadows. Chris had never been more worried about an agent since Vin’s fiancée, Skylar Baang, had been hunted by her Russian kidnappers and Vin had gone off the grid, and when Beau and his now fiancée, Coast Guard Investigative Service Agent Kinley Cooper, had their harrowing mission go terribly wrong in Cuba.

  Now Amber was missing and Chris blamed himself for sending her here. But the case was tailor-made for her with her sharp mind and her attention to detail. True to form, she had rooted out what appeared to be a conspiracy.