Mrs. Fix It Mysteries (5 Cozy Mystery Books Collection)

by Belle Knudson

  As soon as Scott turned his back on her and started up the walkway, she jumped in her truck and peeled away from the curb. She thought she heard Scott swearing, realizing she’d taken off, but she didn’t care.

  Rock Ridge was her entire life. She’d been born and raised here. It was where her kids had grown up and where they’d return to for the holidays. She knew she was being impulsive and maybe even reckless, but time was of the essence. She couldn’t let Mike Waters slip away, start another anarchist cell in another place, and wreak havoc in someone else’s peaceful town.

  Just before she got to the gate at the campsite, she killed her headlights and slowed down to a crawl. She detected some movement near the tents. It was only kids, the young anarchists who had been brainwashed into believing Mike’s movement would be anything but terrorist destruction.

  Instead of driving through the gate, she pulled off to the side of the road, steering her truck into the tall brush where it might go unnoticed. Then she got out, and quietly stalked through the gate on foot.

  Bradley had been carrying a gun, so she had every reason to believe all the anarchists were armed. She would have to keep out of sight. She had no clue how she might detain Mike if she found him; she only knew she had to try.

  As she walked behind the row of vehicles, making sure to keep her head down, she noticed a faint light far in the distance and tucked between the trees. She paused, listening.

  Was that a walkie-talkie she heard?

  Then she spied figures. As she squinted through the darkness, she determined the figures weren’t kids. Their statures looked bulky and they wore helmets.

  Then she realized it was the FBI SWAT team. They’d formed in the woods. Would this turn into an all-out gunfight?

  Maybe she should wait for Scott. It was crazy of her to be here. She shouldn’t put herself in harm’s way like some vigilante maverick. She must have lost her mind coming here.

  She kneeled in the grass behind one of the cars and dialed Scott’s cell phone.

  “Kate?” He did not sound pleased. “Where the hell are you?”

  “I didn’t want him to get away,” she whispered, but then suddenly she was grabbed from behind. She dropped her cell, but could still hear Scott’s faint and tinny voice coming through the receiver as he yelled, “Kate! Kate!”

  “Do you have any idea how much you’ve cost me?”

  Mike swung her around and grabbed her. He looked crazed.

  “Do you think you can stop us? You think we’ll give up just because Lily has been arrested? Is that what you think?”

  He shook her then thrust her forward, pushing her through the campsite. She suddenly felt something hard digging into her back. She knew it was a gun.

  When they reached the first trailer, Mike pushed her up the stairs then yanked the door open and threw her inside.

  With the FBI SWAT team assembling in the woods, she knew they’d be here soon, but it didn’t give her much comfort. They looked heavily armed and no one knew she was in here. What if they threw a grenade through the window? Or tear gas? She’d be a casualty just like all the other kids here.

  “Too many people have died,” she said, but her voice was trembling.

  He held the gun on her and forced her to sit in a chair at the wall just in front of the trailer’s window.

  “And many more will die,” he said. “We’ll never stop. I’ve beaten the government at every turn. Do you realize that? Even your husband couldn’t fool me.” Mike laughed, pleased with himself to have Kate at gunpoint. She got the feeling he’d enjoy killing her since he hadn’t been able to kill Greg. “And isn’t it interesting that the one boy he tried to save ended up coming back to me.”

  “Why was Bradley so important?” she challenged.

  “You mean more important to Greg than you were? Than his own children?” Again, he laughed. “Are you beginning to understand how small you are? How insignificant? Who will care when you’re dead?”

  Kate felt tears well up in her eyes, but she reminded herself that the insults of a crazed madman were baseless.

  “No,” she said. “You think Bradley is vital to your organization. Why?”

  Mike frowned at her. “How would you like to die?”

  “In my bed when I’m ninety next to my husband—my real husband, Scott. I know we’ll get married. This nightmare will be nothing more than a faint memory.”

  He laughed. “I like your optimism, but I was speaking in terms of being shot in the head or the chest.” When she said nothing but only glared at him, he took on a strangely jovial tone. “You want to know why the FBI used a wealth of resources to keep Bradley from me?”

  She raised her brows, interested.

  “When Bradley was four years old his IQ tested off the charts. He’s a genius, scored upwards of 240. I was thinking long term. I was willing to wait twenty, even thirty years, developing him all the while, grooming and educating him. I need him to make a bomb. And not just any bomb. The Anarchist Freedom Network is going to go down in history as the terrorist organization that revolutionizes warfare. Bradley will create a bomb a hundred times more destructive than the atomic bomb. We’ll use it to wipe out tremendous chunks of the population, every city, every small town that resists our movement. A hundred years from now the US won’t exist, and the whole world will know this nation as the Anarchist Freedom Network.”

  “You’re insane!”

  “No!” he said, aiming his gun at her head. “I’m a visionary! And I cannot be stopped!”

  Mike slipped his finger over the trigger and was just about to squeeze, ending her life, when the door crashed open and a man charged at Mike.

  It happened so fast that it was a blur, and Kate barely understood what she was seeing.

  Mike flinched then swung his gun at the man.

  The man, who had dark hair, weathered skin, steel blue eyes, and was wearing combat gear, screamed as he careened into Mike. Just as they hit the ground, Kate realized it was Greg.

  As soon as she did, a loud POW struck her ears and Greg went limp on top of Mike.

  “No!” Kate shrieked.

  As Mike wriggled free of Greg’s dead weight, an army of FBI SWAT soldiers stomped into the trailer and overpowered Mike, grabbing his weapon, flipping him hard onto his stomach, and twisting his arms behind his back to cuff him.

  One of the soldiers grabbed Kate and hurried her out of the trailer and down the steps. She was shaking, overwhelmed and astonished that after so many years she’d come face-to-face with Greg, but there hadn’t been a moment to say a word.

  The soldier escorted her to a safe distance then she saw Scott and the local law enforcement.

  There had been no gunfight, no war, and no anarchist takeover.

  “Katydid,” he said, taking her into his arms. “What am I going to do with you?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mike Waters was charged with terrorism, criminal conspiracy, and the murder of Greg Flaherty and attempted murder of Dean Wentworth. With his arrest, the Anarchist Freedom Network collapsed and the development at the campsite ceased.

  Eager to restore Rock Ridge to its peaceful sanctity, Tully Construction, with funding from the mayor’s office, tore down the structure at the campsite and returned it to its natural grace.

  Bradley moved in with his mother, Jessica, and took a keen interest in Dean’s role as mayor, learning the ropes and applying his genius to help his new stepfather politically.

  It was hard for Kate to tell her twin boys about their father. She called them home and Scott sat down with them. Together they explained Greg’s mission, why he had disappeared, and how, when all was said and done, their father had died a true hero.

  Jared and Jason had mixed emotions, but were ultimately happy for Kate’s rescue, and soon came to terms with the truth of it all.

  A few weeks later, her twins were home again for Thanksgiving. Kate had more or less returned to a normal life, running around town and providing her handywom
an services to all who needed her.

  She took a sip of red wine then opened the oven. The turkey smelled rich thanks to her specialty seasoned basting.

  “How are those mashed potatoes coming?” she asked Scott, who stood over the stove with his sleeves rolled up, as he crushed the soft, hot potatoes and poured in cream when he needed the lubrication.

  “Good,” he said, wiping his brow. “Man, I forgot how taxing this is.”

  He took a minute to catch his breath and stole a sip of wine.

  “Boys!” Kate called out towards the ceiling. “Come set the table!”

  Jared and Jason lumbered down the stairs.

  “Smells good, Mom,” said Jason, as Jared snuck into the kitchen and got down to business brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

  “You read my mind,” said Kate, smiling.

  As they sat down to Thanksgiving dinner, Kate felt especially grateful. She had everything she could ask for. After Scott said grace, he started carving the bird, and Kate filled the boys’ plates with mashed potatoes, green beans, cranberry sauce, and candied onions. When everyone was settled and digging in, Scott held Kate’s gaze and smiled in a funny way.

  She got the feeling he was about to propose.

  ~~~

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