Justified Means (Book One) (The Agency Files)

by Chautona Havig

  Just as she reached the door, he spoke from the sink, and she bolted before the words registered. “I wouldn’t run—” Still unsteady from the effects of the heroin, Erika fell flat on her face before he could finish his warning.

  “Aaah! What the—” She stared at her feet as if they’d betrayed her. Handcuffs combined with a towing chain that was locked to a ring in the floor were hooked around one ankle. “When did you? I know I made it—”

  “It just took a second when I put you back on the couch. I’m sorry, but you can’t be seen in the yard right now. The car is hidden, but if someone sees us out here, it could get back to A—all the people who are looking for you.”

  With every ounce of mental strength she possessed, Erika forced herself to think about his words repeatedly, until she fell asleep. He’d started to say something with a short “A” sound. Whatever that meant, she didn’t know, but it was a start. She couldn’t let the drugs take that away from her. A. How hard could it be to remember the first letter of the alphabet?

  As she sank to the floor, Keith realized that she’d need help. It’d be impossible to curl up next to that dishpan unless it was empty. Stuffing down the impulse to gag, Keith dumped the contents down the toilet and pumped a bucketful of water to pour into the tank. This no electricity thing would get old quickly. As he handed her the rinsed dishpan, he slipped the handcuff around her ankle, hoping she was too upset to notice. As miraculous as it seemed, it worked. Now, if she’d just stop puking so he could give her detox capsules for her liver.

  Just as he warned her not to run, Erika tripped. As expected, a new string of insults followed a fresh wave of anger and culminated in a torrent of foul-mouthed expletives. After trying to explain why she couldn’t leave, Keith gave up and led her back to the couch. “Just rest. I—” he sighed. “Just rest.”

  When she didn’t awaken to vomit again, Keith sighed, relieved. He had too much to do and little time to do it before she woke up again. With the first sweep of the broom, he realized that she’d wake up coughing in no time unless he did something to filter her breathing. Tearing a strip of cloth from the bundle that Karen had dropped, Keith wet it, wrung every drop from it he could, and then laid it carefully over her head. Seconds ticked by as he waited for her to swing at it or shove it off, but she seemed unbothered. He started in the bedroom, sweeping the ceiling, walls, and choking from the dust himself until he was forced to open the windows. Once he brushed down all surfaces, he slowly—trying to avoid stirring up any more dust than necessary—swept the floor until he couldn’t get enough to be worth the fight.

  Without a mop, wiping the floor meant crawling around on his hands and knees, but thanks to small spaces, he had no trouble getting the floor cleaned in a reasonable amount of time. The sheets, however were the worst. Coated with months and months of dust and dank odors, he carried all bedding, including the pillows, into the bathroom and began pumping, filling the tub full of water. Though Keith would have preferred hot, he didn’t want to take the time. Besides, wringing out those sheets would be workout enough for him.

  At the bottom of the bundle, beneath the “pink package” that Keith stored in the bathroom vanity with a shudder, two fresh packages of sheets and two air mattresses waited. He unwrapped the mattresses, inserted the foot pump, and worked away, trying to fill it quickly. If he could just move her into the bedroom, he’d be able to work on the main cabin room. Finishing before dark would be hard, but he certainly did not wish to sleep in filth—with the critters.

  As another mouse scurried across his toes, Keith jumped and shook his head. If Erika saw that, she’d never let him live it down. “Must. Not. Get. Startled,” he muttered to himself as he worked.

  Once he inflated the air mattress, Keith pulled the old musty mattress from the bed and put the air mattress on the box springs. Wrestling with it every step of the way, Keith dragged it to the living room. He could beat it after dark. By the time he finished making the bed, over an hour had passed, and he still hadn’t rinsed or wrung out the other bedding.

  The cloth over her head already looked filthy, and he hadn’t even been working in there! As much as he hated to risk waking her, he scooped her into his arms and stepped around the chain as he carried her to the bedroom. Erika stirred, still groggy and feeling the aftereffects of the drug. At this rate, she’d be ready to start detoxing when she woke again.

  “Wha—”

  “I got your bedroom cleaned and fresh sheets on an air mattress. The room is free of critters and ready for a good night’s sleep.”

  “Is it night already?”

  “It will be soon. Just knock when you want out again.”

  Erika fumbled for the dishpan he carried, and then sighed in relief as her body settled again. “‘kay.”

  It felt like an insult to lock her in the room, but clearly something they’d done had given away their location. They had to return to strict protocol, regardless of how unnecessary some of it seemed. He stared at the mess before him for a moment, wishing for the cushy Secret Service job that didn’t require housekeeping skills before he went to rinse his rags. Time to attack the kitchen.

  The mouse droppings in the cupboards and along the baseboards nauseated him. Bugs, spiders, and even a couple of harmless snakes ended up flattened or tossed through the door as he worked. The tasks, though tedious, inconvenient and sent him into fits of coughing at times, had a cathartic quality to them. As he worked, his mind went over everything he could imagine that could have given away their position.

  His first thought was her escape. Had they somehow been followed in the beginning and lost whoever was pursuing them? Had she been seen and followed? It didn’t seem likely. They’d waited too long to strike for that to be the case. Even if she had managed to evade following, anyone with any experience could have sent a helicopter over that part of the area to find where she likely went. However, it was an option. He’d have to be vigilant to avoid being outside during the day. Period.

  His second option seemed the most likely. They’d managed to trace her phone. If that was the case, they’d watched Karen for a week before she made that call from the cabin. It didn’t make sense that they’d put a trace app on her cell phone. Why wouldn’t they have just killed her instead? However, it seemed more logical than his third option.

  As he scrubbed the table, he fought the idea that someone within the agency had fed the information to someone in Anastas’ organization. If it wasn’t so unlikely, it would be his best bet. It ticked all boxes and filled all holes. His only comfort was that they hadn’t lost a witness in over two years. It seemed unlikely that this case, as serious as it was, would inspire any of his coworkers to betray not only those in their care, but each other as well.

  Once he finished scrubbing all surfaces within the cabin, Keith went to work securing anything that could be used as a weapon against him. Now that he’d had to drug her, he needed to go back to treating her as a potential threat to their safety. The thought frustrated him. He didn’t expect to be friends with her—that was unreasonable. However, pleasant cohabitation during their incarceration wasn’t too much to ask, was it? Well, it was now.

  Before he finished, her knock came in the form of pounding. Outside, the sun slowly set, giving them little time to eat before it was too dark to see. Flashlights were now impossible, and the lanterns would be worse. From now on, they had to avoid anything that drew attention to the cabin—particularly light.

  “You feeling better?” he called as he unlocked the bolts on the door.

  “Yeah. A little. I need food.”

  She might have felt a little better, but Erika looked pallid—almost grotesque. “I’ve got some beef jerky and some of your greens, which we need to eat before they go bad, but we have to eat quickly.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s hard to see what you’re doing in the dark.”

  “We don’t even have a flashlight?” The look on her face—priceless. Erika stepped into the bathro
om, jerking the chain behind her, and slammed the door. “Why is this happening?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t talk to Karen unless it’s absolutely necessary. I have a few theories, but none of them are good ones. Either they are too flawed or too horrible to trust.”

  He kept talking, through the door, as he dragged out their produce and rinsed everything. The salad would be crude, but that they had it had to be a plus—certainly better than none. Well, better to a girl like Erika anyway. He had his doubts.

  “Hey, how do I flush this toilet? The thing doesn’t work.”

  “I’ll get it.” That was another part of this change he wouldn’t like. Toilet duty. Oh, joy.

  Erika stood in the doorway, watching as he pulled the lid off the tank and filled it with water. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t refill after I flushed your lunch down. Just let me know when you’ve used it, and I’ll fill it up again.”

  “I can fill it. I’m not that pathetic.”

  He started to argue; after all, it was his job. One look at Erika’s face and he changed his mind. Women like Erika had something to prove, and Keith Auger wasn’t up to the “Anything you can do” duet. “Fine. Just fill that bucket halfway, and you’ll be fine.” He pointed to the kitchen. “Better eat. The light is going fast.”

  As she chewed her beef jerky, Keith weighed the pros and cons of offering the herbal supplement designed to help speed the eradication of the drug from her body. Should he just tell her to take it and hope she listened? Could he sneak it into her salad dressing? She was contrary enough to make insisting on it a battle, but if she caught him sneaking…

  “Ok, we’ve got an herbal supplement that helps detox your liver. If you want to get the drugs out of your system quickly, I’d recommend it, but it’s up to you.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “Dandelion, milk thistle, fennel… I can’t remember it all. I’d give you the bottle, but I don’t have it.”

  “Will you take one if I do?”

  “Sure. Liver health is important for everyone, right?” He pulled out the small baggie from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. “Take two out and pass them over. I’ll take ‘em first.”

  Apparently, he’d done something right. She hardly hesitated once he’d downed the ones she chose for him. Of course, it meant a dose she wouldn’t get, but it was better than her getting nothing. “Once it’s dark, I’m going to go out and beat that mattress and the couch. I didn’t notice any signs of animals chewing on them—how I am not sure—but I’ll look closer tomorrow. Once the dust is gone, it won’t be so nasty to sit or lay on them.”

  “But you’re doing it after dark so no one can see you.”

  “Right.”

  “This is insane,” she muttered as she speared another bite of salad.

  “I agree.”

  “Can I take a bath?”

  Without answering, he stood, grabbed a large pot, and pumped it half-full of water. Once the flame lit, he frowned. A roll of aluminum foil in one of the drawers gave him an idea, and Keith used it to make a shield around the flame. He moved the mattress in front of the kitchen window and opened the door wide enough to block a view of the flame. “That’ll have to do.”

  “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

  “Because I’d do it for fun otherwise, right?” Sarcasm wouldn’t help things, but he spoke before he thought. Then again, it might help his mental attitude.

  Erika stood, shoved her chair away from her, sending it crashing to the floor, and stormed to the bathroom. Seconds later, she burst through the door again in search of her duffel bag. “The tub is full. There’s something soaking in it.”

  The temptation to swear had never been quite so strong, but Keith resisted. “Then I’d suggest you help me wring it out, or you can forget the bath.”

  Chapter Nine

  The soft rhythmic whap, whap of an unknown origin woke her in the wee hours. Panicked, she pounded on the door, begging and crying to be freed from the prison that she was sure would become her tomb. Keys rattled in locks before she heard the bars slide sideways. Erika jumped as the door bumped her in the head. Heedless of her previous disdain, anger, and fear of Keith, she threw herself at him, trembling. “What do we do?”

  “For what?”

  “Didn’t you hear it? It woke me up— a helicopter!”

  The tension in his features, neck, and arms became instantly noticeable. “Stay right here. Don’t move until I come back.”

  Clutching his shirt, Erika pleaded with him not to leave her. “I won’t run. I won’t do anything. If they shoot you, I’ll be locked—”

  Furious that he ignored her pleas, Erika glowered as he dashed outside, stayed out for what seemed like half an eternity, and then strolled back in again. “I’m going to see something. Tell me if you hear it again.”

  Seconds later, the sound returned, but this time, Erika recognized it. “I can’t believe he’s out there beating the mattresses and furniture while he should be sleeping.”

  Disgusted, she slammed the door behind her and crawled back up on the bed, feeling betrayed. She’d done her part, and Keith had abused her trust with the injection. Remembering the way she clutched at him, revolted her. How could she be so weak?

  After a gentle knock, the knob turned and Erika forced herself not to stiffen. “Erika? Was that it?”

  “You know it was.”

  “I’m glad you called for me. Thank you.”

  She sat up and stared at the faint shadow in the darkness. “Thank you for what?”

  “If I’d been asleep, I might have missed it. I appreciate it.” She saw his hands move and winced, dreading the touch she expected, but it never came. In the near blackness, she saw the faint outline of his arms bent as his hands rested on his hips.

  “Great, you scare me to death, and then you thank me for overreacting. Yeah. That makes sense.”

  Even with as little as she could see, Erika knew he stiffened. His jaw had probably gone rigid and the cold, steely look must have overtaken his eyes—as always. Keith turned as if to leave, and then sighed. “I’m sorry, Erika. I’m doing everything I can to make your stay as comfortable as possible. I know it’s not enough, but I’m trying.”

  “You should be sleeping.” She’d tried to make it a dig, but it sounded like concern, and she knew it.

  “I know.”

  The door started to close. Though she knew she should let him go, the impulse to ask overtook her resolve. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why are you out there beating the furniture?”

  “Because I can’t do it during the day.”

  “But why do it at all?” Erika made a note to learn to curb her curiosity.

  “If you have to be here for a few more weeks, without electricity, the least I can do is try to make the house comfortable.” The door shut quietly behind him.

  Staring off into the inkiness, Erika forced herself to do the one thing that rankled most. “Keith?” Her voice was quiet—too quiet, really. The chances of him hearing her weren’t –-

  The door opened. “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  Her apology stunned him. After a week of antagonism, he hadn’t expected the side of her personality that forced her to go against her personal comfort zone in order to do what she thought was right. Of course, she was irritated and distrustful. Who wouldn’t be?

  After another half hour of batting practice on the furniture, Keith sprayed it all with Lysol, and while it aired, took a quick, cold bath. As he slid down into the sleeping bag, his muscles sighing with relief, Keith slid his phone open and peeked at the time. Two-thirty. He’d get four hours sleep— if he was lucky.

  An envelope lit up at the top of the screen told him he had a text message. He deliberated for several seconds before he gave up and read the message. Corey Knupp would arrive by morning. Backup. Sleep. The ideas were wonderful. So why did her coming feel
like an intrusion?

  At the first knock, Keith threw himself from the air mattress, grappling for his gun. He peeked out the door, but a second knock immediately relaxed him. It was just Erika. He felt like a fool. No intruder knocks before entering.

  “Coming, Erika. Hold on.”

  “Sorry. I really gotta go.”

  As he slid the locks open, he pushed the door. “Hey, no worries. You hungry?”

  “Do we have anything worth eating?”

  “Oats.”

  “Cinnamon?” The hopeful sound of her voice made him wish he’d thought to ask.

  “Don’t think so.” He knelt to unlock the handcuffs. “There. Don’t try to run, ok? I’m beat.” Her smile answered for her, prompting him to ask about the oatmeal again

  Her shoulders slumped, but she nodded. “Yeah, it’s good for you—cholesterol and all that stuff. I’ll probably need it after so little greens.”

  The moment the door shut behind her, Keith strolled back into the kitchen, pumped some water into a pan, and set it on the stove. The change should have been a relief, but he knew a pleasant Erika meant something wasn’t right. The question was, what?

  Keith jumped as he caught movement behind him in his peripheral vision. Before he could ask her to dig out the sugar from the bundle on the table, Erika spoke. “It looks great in here. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Can you look for sugar in that pile? It should be in a Ziploc bag.”

  As she handed him the bag, she shook another one at him. “I think it’s cinnamon and sugar mixed! Would Karen do that?”

  “Only if there was already some from something else. Did you sniff?”

  She stared at him— hurt shrouding every part of her. “What did I do now? Is it possible to say anything to me without scowling? Am I really that repulsive?”

  “Don’t do it, Erika. I’m trained to suspect the worst. So, either you’re wasting your time trying to make me think you are softening and trusting me, or you’re going to be hurt when I’m suspicious of you.”