Justified Means (Book One) (The Agency Files)

by Chautona Havig

  “Did you locate that target?” Keith rolled his eyes at the blatant interest she showed at the word target. “I haven’t heard from Mark. I don’t think he planned to contact me.”

  Was Mark the target? The only Mark Erika could remember was an employee who had quit when he transferred to Texas A&M. The kid was an accounting whiz but completely harmless. Surely they didn’t mean him!

  “Erika thinks she knows who either the target or Mark is. I can’t tell which.”

  “I’m surprised you’ll admit that there’s something you don’t know.”

  Another grin split his face, and he chuckled. “Apparently, I come off as an insufferable know-it-all.” His laughter increased. Covering the phone, Keith said, “Karen says she’s going to start calling me Hermione.”

  Erika rolled her eyes. “I think I’d like Karen if she wasn’t in on this plot to ruin my life and get me fired.”

  “You won’t be fired.”

  “I—”

  Keith shook his head firmly. “Your job will be there when you get back.”

  Those words filled her with fresh interest. If he told the truth, then that had to mean her FBI theory was most likely correct. Only the government could pull those kinds of strings. She couldn’t imagine anyone else having the clout to make something like that happen.

  “Either way, I’m going to lose a few paychecks, and Helen is going to be livid that there’s no one there to make the house look lived in.”

  “We’re taking care of it all,” he assured her, before returning to his conversation. “She’s worried about the bills now,” Keith relayed to his co-conspirator.

  The phone call lasted another five minutes, but she heard nothing useful after the comments about a target and “Mark.” Once he pocketed the phone, Erika turned to him. “You have the wrong Erika Polowski. I think that’s the real problem here. I get that you’re supposed to protect an Erika Polowski, but you got the wrong one. Just tell your other FBI agents to find the right one and do some research. You’ll see.”

  “FBI.” Keith picked up his Bible again, turning the page. “Donald thought US Marshalls. Now FBI. Cool.”

  Chapter Five

  “We’ll call when you get here. It’ll be fine. Don’t forget her produce.”

  Erika waved her arms to get his attention. “Games, books, anything. I’m bored stiff. I think I could play Solitaire for hours!”

  “Apparently I’m not an interesting companion and she wants something to occupy her time. Bring badminton.”

  “Croquet?” The studied air of innocence didn’t work, and she knew it.

  “I am also, obviously, quite stupid. She thinks I’ll request a croquet set so she can bash my head in while I’m trying to pop the ball through a wicket or four.” He nodded a few times and then slid his phone shut. “She’ll bring stuff. We had to come get you earlier than expected, so there was no time—”

  “Whatever.”

  Keith wandered across the room and sat on his heels, waiting for her eyes to meet his. “She’s been texting your parents. They’re not worried about you at all. As far as you’re concerned, the pressure at work just got too bad so you asked a friend to come stay at your house, and you went on an impromptu road trip.”

  “In my car? They believed that?”

  “Karen can be very convincing. It’s a perfect story, because if you are delayed, we have a reasonable excuse.” Keith stood and moved to his favorite chair. It looked miserably uncomfortable to her, but he always sat in the wood rocker as if it was his dream chair.

  “And I can call today?”

  “We’ll see. We’ll either call for you and let you listen to the conversation, or we’ll let you call. It all depends on how cooperative we think we can trust you to be.”

  “I’ll do anything—”

  “I’ll bet.” He shook his head. “Sorry, Erika, but Karen is the determiner. Basically, if you want to talk yourself, you’re going to have to convince her that you don’t plan to do anything to make them doubt the story they’ve been given.”

  “Come on, do you really think that any reasonably intelligent normal person wouldn’t? Give me a break! I’m a captive in a cabin with a strange man! I’m gonna try to get help if I think I can. Even if they only get enough information to know that the texts are lies, they’ll go to the police for help.” She knew she was throwing away her chances, but Erika was too keyed up to care. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

  “Erika, think about it. What happens if you do let them know somehow that something is wrong? Now they’re worried and waste police resources trying to help you when you’re already as safe as human beings can make you. If we hadn’t taken you, you’d be dead right now. As it is, you can let your parents worry and fret or you can truthfully let them believe you’re perfectly safe. You’re actually safer here than the average single woman driving around the countryside in a car that has seen much, much better days.”

  “Just leave me alone.”

  “Happy to oblige.” The curtness of his tone surprised her. Though he often looked like he lived with perpetual anger management issues, he usually sounded pleasant enough. Sometimes he annoyed her by sounding amused by her, but that was the worst of it. Curt was a new one.

  “Hey, when is she going to be here?”

  “She’s on her way to get the stuff on your list and then she’ll be here so probably by dinner.” He glanced down at his Bible. “I didn’t even offer. If you want to read—”

  “No.” Guilt washed over her as she realized how ungracious she sounded. “Sorry, I’m just not interested.”

  “I didn’t think so, but I had to offer.”

  The anger—it felt like it would kill her from the inside out. She’d begun to see how things like the Stockholm Syndrome developed. After a week of nearly constant angst, she was emotionally exhausted. Erika wanted nothing more than to call a truce but had determined not to capitulate. Realistically, she knew eventually she’d have to exchange anger for a less demanding emotion.

  “How long was Donald the old guy angry?”

  “I’m not sure. He spent the whole time creating a stand-up comic routine, and I think that masked his true emotions. Looking back, I think it was his way of ensuring that we couldn’t quite tell his state of mind.”

  “The whole time? As in from day one?” Erika didn’t even try to hide her skepticism.

  “Once we reached the cottage, he took a shower, came out freshly shaved, and said, ‘When I get out of here, I’m going to invent dryer sheets for the body.’ I asked if there was something wrong with his towel and he frowned at me and said, ‘You’re supposed to ask why.’”

  Erika hated herself for it, but she couldn’t resist asking, “Well, did you?”

  “Yep. He said, ‘So people my age can get clean and wrinkle free.’”

  A snicker escaped before she could prevent it. No, it wasn’t hysterical, but it wasn’t bad for an old guy who had just been taken hostage by strangers. “Did they get better?”

  “Much. I had a hard time keeping a straight face.”

  “I bet he would have enjoyed it if you’d just relaxed and been a cool guy rather than a warden. Older people usually are really cool with great stories about when they were younger, and not very many people like to listen anymore.”

  “Who said we didn’t?”

  “I know what you’re like. I’ve been here for a week with you. You look like the pictures I’ve seen of Hitler’s prison camp guards—all stone-faced and harsh.” She shook her head. “The guy probably couldn’t stand the stress of being around someone so negative for so long.”

  “He told the joke three hours after our meeting. I wouldn’t call that too stressful, and yeah, I tried not to laugh. He liked feeling like he got one over on me. Sue me for giving the guy something to look forward to.” Keith jerked his head at the shackle. “Clamp that around your ankle. I’ve got to go check something outside.”

  Stunned, she stood in the doorway
, one ankle attached to the chain and watched as he scoped out the trees. At one point, he glanced back at her and frowned. She watched as he jogged back to where she stood, double-checked the ankle cuff, the place where it was mounted to the wall, and then stood. “I’ll be back in five minutes. Don’t do anything stupid. Just—just don’t.”

  The moment he disappeared into the trees, Erika raced for the curtains. She could do this. How he’d been so stupid, she didn’t know, but she had every intention of getting out of there the minute she could. Even as she fumbled with the hook, her eyes darted around the cabin, looking for the keys to her car. She could afford to hit him with it if she had half a chance. With Karen coming, even if he was hurt, he’d get help.

  She watched through the window as she fumbled with the lock until finally the shackle fell from her ankle. He was still gone. There was no sign of Keith anywhere. Excited, she fumbled around the counter, in the drawers, in his duffel, nearly coming unglued when she found the dossier, and then gave up. She’d have to skip the idea of the car. Grabbing her jacket, Erika tied it around her waist, stuffed the pockets with fruit, grabbed a couple of water bottles from the fridge, and peeked out the door. Still no sign.

  For a moment, she wondered if it was a test—of what, she couldn’t guess. The idea that anyone wouldn’t try to leave if given half a chance was ridiculous. She had to go. The choice came down to now or never. Remembering her last attempt, this time she crawled along the floor, barely raising her head, in an attempt to avoid the incessant ding of the alarm. Who knew how good his hearing was? It worked. As she stood, she glanced around the cabin and relaxed—confident that he hadn’t seen her.

  She hurried to the back of the cabin, took a deep breath, and then dashed for the trees. She’d go about twenty yards in and then start walking in a wide circle to get back to the road. It was impossible to walk in plain sight, but sticking to the road should get her to some kind of civilization at some point.

  A twig snapped, causing her to jump. Erika’s eyes darted around her, panicked that somehow she’d either been followed already, as unlikely as that seemed, or that some animal was wandering too close to their cabin. Fury overtook her as she realized the plural possessive of the idea of “their” cabin. She’d fallen prey to the idea that she was a part of this mess. It was just wrong!

  The temptation to climb a tree and wait until dark nearly overwhelmed her. She tried to imagine getting high enough not to be seen and without her stupid Crocs slipping off, and shook her head. Not likely. Staying put would be a better choice. Keith would have to comb every inch of the woods to find her. Surely, the odds were slimmer of that than her making it to the top of a tree.

  For the next two hours, she kept moving, pausing every few minutes to listen before pressing onward. Her plan to retrace her steps back to the road backfired as she found herself walking in circles, one that took her too close to the cabin for comfort. After dark. She’d try hard to find the road but not until after dark. Each rustle of leaves, cry of a bird, or crunch along the ground sent her heart racing, but Erika refused to quit. The all-knowing and arrogant Keith Auger had made a serious mistake, and the chances of that happening again were highly unlikely. She needed to capitalize on it now.

  Night seemed to fall much more quickly in the forest than it did in town. It seemed as if she’d been walking for hours and that she’d just escaped—simultaneously. What that meant, she didn’t know. Was the darkness due to another storm coming? Was it a sign that time passed much more quickly than she’d realized? A sound, one definitely man-made froze her in her tracks. With every ounce of will left in her, she forced herself to hide behind a tree, nearly praying that whatever was coming would come from behind rather than in front of her.

  With each second it grew louder until Erika was ready to cry. It had to be them. They’d found her. The noise was that crazy van; she was sure of it. Just as she was ready to risk losing a shoe to climb the tree, the noise became quieter. It seemed as if the vehicle was going away again. Understanding followed a relieved sigh. She had found the road. Perhaps if she got close enough, she’d be able to see how close sunset really was.

  Stumbling almost frantically, though she knew it was foolish, Erika finally reached the edge of the trees. Sundown would be there soon. That meant Karen had probably arrived already. Now two people, from two different directions, could be a part of the search for her. Would they call in reinforcements? How many people could they get up there and how quickly? Should she risk hitchhiking? The idea revolted her, but so did going back to that cabin.

  Erika winced at the look she could almost see in Keith’s eyes. He’d gloat. It wouldn’t matter that she’d gotten away, he’d gloat that he forced her back, and this time, they’d remove anything that she could use to open the locks. They’d probably go with a combination or something. What had been a horrible week would stretch into an even more terrible month—or more.

  She needed to get out of there fast. Hitchhiking might be her only option. She’d have to take her chances. Once she was home— Realization struck like a Mac truck. She couldn’t go home. If she went home, they’d find her. If she went to her parents’ house, they’d be there. They knew her friends, her family, and probably were monitoring her accounts already. The minute she took out a penny, used a card, anything, they’d find her.

  Torn, she waited just inside the tree line as she watched the occasional car drive by. It grew dark, and still she watched, deliberating between staying on the run, a prisoner of circumstance but free or going back and enduring whatever was left of this incarceration. Both seemed like impossible choices. The only way to stay out of their hands was to keep moving. She couldn’t do it without money, and to contact anyone for it meant they’d find her.

  The idea of going to the police with her story flopped once she realized that Keith and Karen would still find her once she was out of the police station. Even if the police considered it serious enough to protect her, she’d end up in “protective custody” and it’d be the same thing that she already had. Sure, it’d be voluntary, but a prisoner is a prisoner when you get to the root of it.

  Each moment that passed was torture. To go or to stay—that became the real question. She just couldn’t ask it—no one around to answer. Illogically, she tried to imagine what Keith would do. The guy was trained in the kind of scenarios she faced, so how would he handle it? Her problem—she didn’t know.

  As she polished off another of her water bottles, Erika frowned. She’d taken three bottles. Two were gone. Her brilliant idea of staying hydrated while walking would fail—unless she found more water. One bottle wouldn’t last long. She glanced up and down the highway. Which way was back to the cabin anyway?

  “That’s it,” she muttered to herself. “I’m picking a direction. If I see the entrance to the cabin, I’ll go back. If not, I’ll figure it out when I get to wherever I end up.”

  Approximately a mile down the road, she found the turnoff to the cabin. If you didn’t know where it was, it’d be hard to see. Located on a curve, either direction would miss the slight parting of trees and grassy drive unless they looked at those exact few feet. Disappointed, Erika turned in.

  Shoulders slumped, she dragged her feet up the long drive to the cabin, dread increasing with each step, and tried not to imagine the fierce look on Keith’s face when she returned. The only thing worse than his obvious irritation would be the gloating. Oh, how she hated the idea of that gloating.

  Karen stepped from the shadows as her foot reached the front step. “Are you ok?”

  Erika jumped, a squeal escaping her before she could stop it. “Yeah.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I’d have done the same thing.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  The woman pushed the door open to the cabin and returned seconds later with a cold bottle of water. “Drink up. You might want a bath too. You’re going to be sore.”

  “You might as well call Keith and let him know I’m
back. There’s no reason to keep him out looking anymore.”

  “He’s not looking.”

  Her head snapped up at Karen’s words. “He’s not?”

  Compassion, pity, or something equally ambiguous and distasteful flooded Karen’s eyes. She pointed toward the trees and shook her head. “No. He’s there.”

  Turning, Erika saw Keith. He strolled silently across the small clearing wearing camouflage and with filthy hands and face. Pulling out his phone, he punched some keys, causing Karen’s to vibrate. She read the screen and then passed it to Erika.

  SHE ALMOST CAUGHT ME AT LEAST FIVE TIMES.

  Chapter Six

  “Go take a shower, get cleaned up, and then we’ll call your parents.”

  “I guess,” Erika said with a despondency she couldn’t hope to hide, “this means that I get my mouth duct taped again. Can you give me time to suck my lips in so they don’t lose another layer of skin?”

  “You can call. We’ll go over what to say and how to do it when you get out of the bathroom. Take a long hot bath. I’ll go make dinner. I’ve got the stuff for a great salad in there.” Karen smiled at her—the opposite of Keith in every way.

  “You ok, Erika?” Keith’s voice over her shoulder, despite hearing his footsteps as he approached, still startled her.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I didn’t scare you?”

  “Probably—I just didn’t know it was you if you did.” She glanced back at him. “Why did you let me go? Why stalk me like that?”

  “We had to test you, but we also had to protect you, Erika.” Gently, Karen pushed Erika inside. “You passed the test.”

  “I didn’t,” Erika admitted. “Not really. I only came back because I realized that you’d just find me and take me away again.”