Winter's Storm

by Mary Stone

  Bile stung the back of his throat as he slumped down to a low crouch, giving himself a few more moments to think. He needed to think.

  As he slowed his movements and the adrenaline receded, the two knife wounds felt like those parts of his body had been permanently set ablaze. He’d heard from soldiers that the pain from a sudden injury like a gunshot was almost too much for a human’s mind to process. As a result, such a traumatic injury felt more akin to a burning ember they couldn’t shake.

  He’d retained skepticism, but now, he suspected the stories were all true. The wounds on his arm and collarbone had taken on a life of their own. Whenever Jackson breathed or shifted in place, he stoked a fire he couldn’t see.

  He could deal with one situation or the other. If he was only being chased by a psychopath, he could outrun or outsmart them. If he had only been lost, he could keep walking until his phone had a signal. But he wasn’t so sure he could handle both at the same time.

  Plus, he was bleeding. Badly.

  As he looked down at the front of his t-shirt, he watched blood seeping steadily from the burning injury on his shoulder.

  How long did it take a person to bleed out? How long until hypovolemic shock settled in?

  He didn’t know, but if he didn’t do something, one or both of those possibilities would become real. Just as he started to pull off his jacket to construct a makeshift bandage, he froze in place. The sound was faint, but he was sure he’d just heard the crackle of leaves or branches.

  He kept still, and soon, his lungs ached from holding his breath. Despite the discomfort, he still didn’t dare to breathe.

  Something was out there. Something, or someone.

  And that someone had a name. A mission.

  Him.

  When the faint snap sounded out again, the disturbance was more noticeable. It might have been a wild animal—a coyote or an opossum, maybe a raccoon. But it was just as likely that the sound had been caused by Jaime’s careful footsteps.

  Jackson balanced himself on one hand as he crept closer to the edge of the boulder. He inhaled slowly through his nose and blinked repeatedly against the darkness. From beneath the cover of the trees, the moonlight was even fainter than it had been in the clearing.

  Each inch of movement was agony, but Jackson kept his breathing silent until he was afforded a glimpse of the same area from which he had come. In the darkness, no shadows stirred.

  Jackson held the position as another surge of adrenaline rushed through his tired body. He knew he hadn’t imagined the sounds. He knew something had been there.

  Clenching his jaw, he started to ease himself back to the relative shelter of the rock.

  Before he settled back into his position, another crack splintered the night. A fresh dump of adrenaline surged through his body as he realized that this noise came from behind him.

  Ignoring the newly stoked fire that ripped through his shoulder, he snapped his head around to face the source of the sound. But it didn’t matter how quickly he moved. He was too late.

  Even in the pitch darkness of the woods, Jackson could still make out the eerie blue shade of Jaime’s eyes. As he jammed the blade through Jackson’s ribs, the smiling psychopath never broke eye contact.

  Clasping the hem of Jackson’s shirt with one hand, Jaime leaned in closer. “You disappointed me, Jackson. You showed real promise, and then you pissed it down your leg. Just like the others.”

  The taste of iron spread over Jackson’s tongue. “O-others?”

  Jaime’s laugh was more a taunt. “What, you thought you were special? Thought you were the first?” He twisted the knife smiling as Jackson screamed. “You’re number three,” Jaime continued, his voice as light as if he was having a conversation with the queen. “You aren’t special. There are tens of thousands of racist pricks out there who’ll run to my beck and call as soon as I give the word. Honestly, I’ve never really been sure why you idiots fixate so much on the color of someone’s skin when the real problem doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

  Jackson made a desperate attempt to swallow the blood that bubbled up from his throat, but like everything else tonight, the effort was for naught.

  With a derisive cluck of his tongue, Jaime twisted the knife, sending a fresh wave of agony through Jackson’s body.

  “Women.” Jamie said the word as if it tasted bad. “Women are the real problem. You and your people are focused on the wrong thing, but don’t worry. I’ll make sure they see the error of their ways. I’ll set them all straight.”

  As Jaime drove the blade the rest of the way into Jackson’s lung, the only sound that slipped past his bloodied lips a wet gurgle.

  The pain from his shoulder had dissipated, but he couldn’t remember when the air had gotten so cold. As the chill rose up to greet him, Jackson’s eyelids felt as if they’d been weighted down with lead.

  After one more effort to take a breath, he gave up and let the darkness envelope him.

  2

  As William Hoult slammed the trunk closed, he glanced over to the man at his side. Jaime’s blue eyes flicked back and forth before he met Will’s questioning glance with a nod. Their footsteps crunched against the gravel of the circular parking lot as they made their way to the front of the car. Wordlessly, Will pried open the passenger side door and took his seat.

  After adjusting the rearview mirror, Jaime fastened his seatbelt with a click. When his expectant gaze shifted over to Will, he followed suit. There was a body in the trunk of their car. Not just a body, but a body that Will had helped wrap in a tarp and carry through the woods.

  For the first part of Jaime and the other man’s exchange, Will had been hidden just off the walking trail. He’d been out of earshot, and the low light had made it difficult to make out either man’s facial expressions. But based on the way the broad-shouldered man had held himself, Jaime was right. The man wasn’t on their side, and he never had been.

  But did that mean that Jaime had to kill him? Will had never seen another person die before, and he supposed he technically still hadn’t. By the time Jaime had beckoned him into the woods, the other man was already dead.

  As the car’s engine hummed to life, Will felt Jaime’s stare on the side of his face.

  “What’s on your mind, Will?” Jaime asked, his voice light and conversational.

  Shaking his head, Will met his new friend’s gaze. “I’m just wondering about that guy, I guess. What did he do?”

  With a sour look, Jaime shifted the car into gear. “He was going to rat us out.”

  Will sucked in a sharp breath. “He was?”

  Jaime nodded, but his eyes were fixed on the road. “He was. He didn’t have the stomach for what we must do, and he was going to tell the cops about us. About both of us. He put you in danger too.”

  Angry now, Will cast a reflexive glance to the rear of the car. “A rat, huh? Then I don’t blame you. Rats have to die.”

  Jaw clenched, Jaime nodded again. “That’s right. I didn’t want to have to kill him. I tried to talk some sense into him, but he wouldn’t listen. Then, he pulled a gun on me before he tried to take off. I didn’t have a choice. I had to go after him.”

  Though Will’s pulse had picked up, he wasn’t nervous because Jaime had just killed a man. He was nervous because they’d come so close to being caught before they could even put their plan into motion.

  A few months earlier, Will had come across Jaime in an underground forum where likeminded men could share ideas about their vision for the future of the United States. None of Will’s friends understood the peril their country faced, but Jaime had.

  In Jaime, Will had finally found a confidante.

  Before long, Will learned that he and Jaime lived less than two hours away from one another. They hadn’t met up in person until a couple weeks ago, but Will already felt like they had become good friends. Unlike the other posters in the online forums, Jaime had a plan of action.

  Jaime was determined to make a d
ifference in the world, and in Will’s mind, the only way to make a difference was to follow in Tyler Haldane and Kent Strickland’s footsteps. Fortunately, Jaime agreed.

  As he pulled himself from the reverie, Will cast another quick glance to Jaime’s stoic face. “So, do we need to find someone else? Someone to replace that guy?” Will still didn’t know the dead man’s name, but he didn’t care. A snitch was a snitch.

  Jaime slowly shook his head. “No. We don’t need to find someone. We can start this ourselves, and then they’ll come to us.”

  Even though he still wasn’t sure what exactly Jaime’s plan entailed, Will nodded. “Where do we start, then? Or, well, how do we start?”

  The question sounded at least marginally more sophisticated than simply stating that he didn’t know anything about Jaime’s plan. Despite their bond, Jaime had kept the details close to his vest.

  Jaime’s blue eyes flicked to Will and then back to the road. As he pursed his lips, he drummed gloved fingers against the steering wheel. “I can trust you, can’t I, Will?”

  Will nodded like the answer should have been obvious. “You know you can.”

  The slightest hint of a smile crept to Jaime’s face. “You’re right. I did know the answer to that. Okay, Will, I’m going to tell you something that I didn’t even tell our friend back there.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

  This was it. After three months, Jaime was finally about to let Will in on his vision. On his action.

  “I helped Tyler and Kent plan for the Riverside Mall. I don’t know why they decided to wear those stupid Nazi armbands, but I also know that you know that’s not our mission. There is no ‘master race.’ God created all men equal, but women. Women are the real problem. If men weren’t so wrapped up in their racist crusades, they’d see that women are what’s ruining our society today.”

  Nodding, Will shifted in his seat. “How do we make them see that?”

  The smile on Jaime’s lips grew wider. “We finish what Tyler and Kent started. They picked the Riverside Mall for a reason. That’s where the sinners and the harlots like to congregate. A mall is like a woman’s drug. They go there to spend the hard-earned money of their husbands, or the money they make in their jobs. Women shouldn’t be out at a place like that, and they shouldn’t be spending a man’s money.”

  “They should be at home,” Will finished for him.

  Jaime waved an appreciative finger at Will. “That’s right. That’s why Kent and Tyler went there. They knew they would be able to take out plenty of the sinners if they went to a mall. And they did. Everyone there deserved what they got, and everyone who didn’t get what they deserved needs to be punished.”

  As the implication dawned on him, Will’s eyes widened. “We have to finish what they started. We have to deal with the people who made it out, don’t we?”

  “We do.” Jaime’s voice was cold but determined.

  Will scratched the side of his bearded face. “How do we find them, though? Some of them were in the news, but not all of them.”

  Jaime nodded his agreement. “You’re right. Computers aren’t exactly my strong suit, but I’m sure we can find someone who knows how to get what we’re after.”

  “A hacker?”

  “A hacker,” Jamie confirmed.” The smile returned, though the evil living inside it caused the hair on Will’s arms to raise. “Yes. We find their names, and then we can start our mission.”

  A portion of Jaime’s smile made its way to Will’s face. It had taken years, but Will had finally found someone who was as convicted as he was.

  3

  Even with the faint drone of the voices of a group of nearby grillers, the dock that Winter Black and Autumn Trent had chosen for their early afternoon fishing expedition was quiet. Patches of trees dotted the shore of the lake, and a slight breeze cast ripples along the water’s surface. The grillers were hidden from her view by a handful of tall oaks, but every now and then, she caught a glimpse of a red or blue coat or a whiff of seared meat that made her think of Noah Dalton, her boyfriend.

  She smiled, just thinking of herself, of all people, actually having a boyfriend. But she did. A good one too. A man who had supported her when she didn’t even deserve that support.

  When Winter’s phone rang, she was surprised that she was in a service area. As Autumn unfolded a canvas chair, she lifted her eyebrows. Apparently, she was surprised that they could receive a signal on their phones too.

  With a shrug, Winter set down her chair and fished the smartphone out of her jacket pocket. The screen displayed the name James Bond, but she knew the caller wasn’t 007. James Bond was the codename she’d decided to use for Ryan O’Connelly.

  Winter had gone through a handful of other codenames, but none had suited the conman turned FBI informant quite like the MI6 agent. Since Ryan occasionally worked undercover to glean information for the Bureau, she hadn’t wanted to store his real name in her phone.

  Swiping the answer key, she raised the device to one ear. “This is Agent Black.”

  “Afternoon, Agent Black.” Though fainter than it had been a few months ago, Ryan’s words were tinged with a slight Irish accent. His tone was chipper, but Winter had learned not to read into the man’s pleasant moods.

  Ever since he’d been absolved of jail time two and a half months ago, Ryan was usually chipper. His sister, Lillian, was planning to use the time over Christmas break to move herself and her two children from their current home in Omaha, Nebraska to Richmond. Winter suspected that after the rest of his family was within arms’ length, Ryan’s upbeat demeanor would be dialed up to eleven.

  Winter pushed the thoughts aside. “Hey, Ryan. What’s up?”

  “Not much. Sorry to interrupt your Sunday, but Agent Welford and I just finished following up on that lead from Tyler and Kent’s manifesto.” Though barely noticeable, some of the good humor left Ryan’s tone as he mentioned the neo-Nazi mass murderers who had committed a massacre less than a year earlier.

  Winter set her brand-new fishing rod and tackle box down on the dock. “Did it turn up anything?”

  Ryan’s sigh gave her the answer before he did. “No. I’m afraid it didn’t. Agent Welford said she found the kid who had been making some threatening posts on random forums, but he was just some seventeen-year-old high school student. He lives in a rich neighborhood and goes to a private school. Agent Welford said that he figured out a way around his parent’s wi-fi firewall, and then he just spiraled down the rabbit hole. Apparently, he was making those posts because he wanted to stir up trouble among the neo-Nazis.”

  Can’t fault him for that. Winter kept the unprofessional thought to herself. “So, it’s another dead end, then?”

  “It is. Other than a high schooler being grounded for the rest of the decade, we didn’t get much out of it. Sorry, I was hoping we’d finally find something too.”

  Winter swallowed a sigh. “Yeah, me too. It’s all right. Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Take care, Agent Black.”

  Once the call ended, Winter permitted herself to heave out the breath she’d held back during her brief conversation with Ryan. She really needed to stop getting her hopes up. It wasn’t good for her cardiovascular system.

  Fishing rod in hand, Autumn took a seat in her canvas folding chair. “That didn’t sound like good news.”

  Shaking her head, Winter unfolded her own chair and slumped down to sit. “It wasn’t. It wasn’t bad news, either, it was just…” she rubbed her temple, “news, I guess.”

  As Autumn fastened a purple rubber worm to the fishhook, she nodded. “Another dead end, huh?”

  Winter opened her tackle box and selected a similarly colored worm. “This case has been nothing but dead ends over the last couple months. When Ryan found Kent and Tyler’s manifesto and we saw that there was a third person involved, the first thing we did was go over security camera footage and witness statements from the day of the shooting. We didn’t see anyone else with a
gun aside from the cops. But Kent and Tyler took over the security room, so it’s hard to tell if they might have diverted the cameras from a certain area. I was talking to Agent Welford the other day, and she said they’re going to circle back to the person who posted the manifesto in the first place and see if they can dig anything up that way.”

  “Well,” Autumn rose to stand as she arched the fishing rod over one shoulder, “that’s probably a good idea. Strickland’s family have been about as helpful as a pack of rabid hyenas, haven’t they?”

  With one smooth motion, Autumn sent the line sailing out from the dock and into the rippling waters of the lake. Her emerald green eyes followed the motion until the hook plopped onto the water’s surface.

  Winter managed a quiet chuckle as she nodded. “That’s a good comparison. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Kent Strickland had been raised by a pack of rabid hyenas. The Haldanes are a little more cooperative, but they still haven’t been able to give us anything useful.”

  Tucking a piece of auburn hair behind her ear, Autumn glanced over to Winter as she retook her seat. “Well, Tyler and Kent spent the summer before the shooting at Kent’s father’s place, didn’t they?”

  Winter nodded. “Yeah, it’s a plot of land just outside Bowling Green. We’re still looking for George Strickland, but we haven’t been able to find him. He’s either laying low, or he’s out of the country. Bree and I went to George’s house a couple weeks ago, and no one was there. The closest neighbor is something like two miles away, so they didn’t notice anything weird, or anything at all.”

  While Winter rose to cast her own line into the lake, Autumn reached down to a cooler at her side. According to her, the only real way to fish for catfish was to sit on a dock and drink beer while they waited for their bobbers to move. By the time Winter moved back to her chair, Autumn handed her a glass bottle of beer.

  They’d followed the weather for a solid two weeks in the lookout for a day warm enough to go fishing. Though the temperature was above average for that time of year, there was still enough chill in the air to warrant a light jacket.