“First, I need coffee.” Blake stepped forward.
West’s arm bobbed up like a guard gate, blocking the conference room doorway. “We should talk first.”
Blake stopped to look more closely at his brother. West never said no to coffee. “Why?”
“Well, I guess because Miss Lane’s eager to meet you.” He twisted his mouth into a knot.
“Great.”
West grinned. “She’d like another crack at the man who attacked her. Thinks you can use her help.”
Blake snorted. “I need a lot of things right now, but help from a little blonde woman isn’t one of them. I need coffee and whatever information you gained from her interview, then I’ll stop by the victim’s place after you’ve debriefed me. See if she’s thought of anything else that can help us.”
West shook his head. “I’m trying to tell you she didn’t go home.”
“Parents’ house?”
“Nope.”
“Well, where’d she go?” Blake cocked a hip, resting a restless hand over the butt of his sidearm. “Boyfriend’s place?” That’d be a first. Nash had specifically chosen single women in the past.
West dropped his arm and tilted his head toward the conference room. “She’s waiting for you.”
“What?” He craned his head for a better look through the doorway. “Why didn’t you send her home?” He dropped his voice to a whisper and checked his watch. “Do you mean to tell me she’s been sitting in there for more than two hours? You should’ve driven her home by now.” He pushed West’s arm out of his way and strode into the conference room. Blake stopped short at the sight of a clearly aggravated woman in running gear.
“I’m not a victim,” she said. “Also, the sheriff tried to send me home, but I’m not one to be sent anywhere, especially when I can be useful. Someone’s trolling the park for women, and I can help.” Her disheveled ponytail was hanging on by threads, but her backbone was straight as an arrow.
Blake’s cheek twitched. He cast an uneasy glance at his brother. “This is Miss Lane?”
West smiled. “I tried to get you to go with me to my office.”
The woman was on her feet and moving in Blake’s direction. “I’m Marissa Lane.” She shoved a little hand his way. “It’s nice to meet you, Agent Garrett. I wish it was under different circumstances.”
Blake agreed. Marissa had managed to shock and impress him in under a minute. A task no one had ever accomplished, and Blake had met a lot of people.
“Miss Lane,” he began in his most calming tone. “Thank you for your willingness to help. You’ve undergone an incredible trauma today, but I’d like to ask you a few more questions. Let me know if you need to stop at any point during the interview. We can take a break or pick up tomorrow. Whatever you’d like. I assume you’ve already told the sheriff everything you can recall.”
“I have.” She nodded. “If I understand correctly, you believe the man who attacked me is responsible for taking several women.”
“It’s a distinct possibility, yes. That’s what I’m here to find out.”
“Well, I have no intention of going home until I’ve told you everything I told your brother and accompanied you back to the park. I’d like to show you where it happened.” She shot a pointed look at Blake’s black dress shoes. “I hope you brought a change of clothes.”
Blake dragged his gaze to the space behind him where West was retreating toward his office.
Blake unbuttoned his suit jacket and took a seat at the large oval table in the room’s center, attempting to regain control of the situation. He cleared his throat and turned his face to the spitfire before him. She certainly looked like Nash’s type. Obviously beautiful. Small features. Narrow frame. The clingy blue jogging pants and matching tank top left little to the imagination in terms of her shape. Blake’s hands could easily cover the span of her waist. A very Southern-debutante appeal, but looks were deceiving. He fought a smile as he imagined the shock Nash must’ve had when this little woman kicked his ass.
“Agent?” Her voice drew him back like a slap in the face.
“Sorry.” Blake shifted on his seat and gauged his words carefully. He also did his best to clear a few unprofessional thoughts from his mind. “The man I’m after is six feet tall, and he’s probably got seventy-five pounds on you.” Give or take the few that five years might have delivered.
Marissa crossed her arms. “And?”
Blake’s cheek twitched again. Twice in ten minutes. She was funny. Did she know she was funny? “How’d you do it?”
“I fought.” Marissa lifted a tuft of fallen hair off her cheek and hooked it over one ear, revealing a thick crimson line along her jawbone and faint purple bruising under the corresponding eye. “He grabbed me. Hit me. Choked me. I used my size against him. Would you like a demonstration?”
Somewhere in the next room, West coughed.
Blake gave the shared wall a dirty look before turning his attention back to Marissa Lane. “That won’t be necessary.” He opened a notebook and clicked his pen to life. “Has anyone evaluated your injuries?”
Marissa nodded. “Cole,” she said.
“Good.”
Cole was the youngest Garrett brother, a former army medic and a certified EMT. He was also a medical school dropout, but he hated when the family brought that up.
“West insisted I choose between Cole or a trip to the ER,” Marissa added. “I figured, at least I know Cole.”
Blake nodded, hoping the fact she had no bandages meant the injuries appeared worse than they actually were.
“Why don’t you have a seat and start by telling me what you remember?”
She turned to pace the room. “I remember being grabbed from behind, hit across the face and nearly dragged into the forest. The assailant was your brother’s height, West’s, not Cole’s.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I went to high school with them. Never dreamed they’d become the town sheriff and deputy, but I guess I should have. Whatever happened to Ryder?”
“He’s a US Marshal.”
She cocked an eyebrow, as if to say more on the topic, but shook her head and stayed on task. “The lunatic was singing that old song. ‘Going to the Chapel’.”
Blake tapped his pen against the notepad. He’d have to ask how well she knew his brothers later. He’d left for college before they’d started high school. A curious sense of frustration knotted inside him.
Marissa dropped her arms to her sides. “Did you always want to work for the FBI?”
“No.” The Garretts were a family of law enforcement and everyone in Cade County knew it, but Blake never wanted to be sheriff. Though there was a certain pressure for Blake to conform, he’d wanted to do something bigger than hand out traffic tickets and break up marital disputes. He’d gone as far as to finish his law degree, dreaming of a judgeship, before the allure of a shiny badge had caught up with him. Something about those coveted initials, FBI, had changed his life plan without warning.
Marissa leaned her slender backside against the table and crossed her ankles. Soft, distracting scents of coconut and pineapple lifted off her. “Whoever he was, I caught him off guard. I left him on his back by the lake and ran until I saw a car. I flagged the guy down and asked him to drop me off here. My car’s still at the base camp parking lot. I had to run in the opposite direction, and I was afraid to double back. I can pick it up when we go see the crime scene.”
* * *
THE SWOON-WORTHY AGENT stretched onto his feet and loomed over Marissa. His sharp blue eyes cut a line across her bruised face, lingering at her equally sore collarbone before returning to her eyes. “Fine. We can talk more on the way.”
He patted a rhythm on the wall, and his brothers appeared. “Give me five minutes to change, then follow us up to the lake.”
The men exchanged looks and broke off in thr
ee separate directions.
Several minutes later, Blake returned in a pair of low-slung jeans, military boots and a slate-gray T-shirt. He’d screwed a plain navy ball cap over his thick dark hair and covered his serious blue eyes with tinted aviators. An impressive FBI badge completed the look. “Time to saddle up.”
Marissa followed a line of Garrett men to their cars. She smoothed her hair and straightened her shirt, uncertain if the bubbling of nerves in her core was caused by a return to the crime scene or something else entirely. Plenty of women’s daydreams had begun like this in Shadow Point. Alone with multiple uniformed Garretts. Fortunately, Marissa had spent four years of high school learning about the inevitable heartbreak a lady could expect from any one of those unbelievably attractive packages. What she couldn’t figure out was why Blake Garrett had thrown her off balance? The others didn’t faze her, but they also didn’t command a room with their presence the way Blake did. If she remembered correctly, he was just four years older than West. Five years older than her. He’d left town long before she’d thought about guys beyond their inability to beat her at anything at all.
The men stopped beside a big black pickup. The truck hadn’t been in the lot when Marissa arrived. Blake pointed a fob in the truck’s direction and the locks popped up. “Miss Lane?” He extended his hand. “Boost?”
Why not? She grabbed the open door frame in one hand and placed her opposite palm on Blake’s. His warm, calloused skin sent a jolt of electricity through her. Blake closed strong fingers over hers and waited as she bounced into the cab.
The door snapped shut behind her, and the Garretts circled up, speaking too low for her to understand. The men seemed to take turns examining her through the closed window. Blake adjusted his ball cap a few times before breaking free from the group and swinging into the driver’s seat.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“No.” He slid his eyes in her direction briefly, checked the rearview, and gunned the engine to life. “Someone attacked you today. That’s a big problem, and I plan to fix it.”
Chapter Two
Blake slowed his truck at the national park entrance where a line of cars blocked the gate. A park ranger moved car to car, waving his hands and pointing toward the exit.
“What the hell?” Blake powered his window down and shoved an elbow over the frame. He tipped his head through the open window. “Hey, what’s going on?”
The ranger, still two cars away, shot him a dirty look and continued arguing with the driver of a rusted hatchback.
Blake shifted into Park and climbed down from the cab. He gave Marissa an authoritative stare. “Stay put.”
She released her seat belt and twisted on the seat, scanning the scene outside. A big white van with a satellite on top came into view, along with a cluster of people and cameras. “This day keeps getting worse.”
“What?” Blake peered over the crush of stalled vehicles. “The reporter?”
“I think the good Samaritan who drove me to the sheriff’s department is being interviewed by that news crew.”
“Sonofa—” Blake slammed his door and headed into the chaos. His FBI shield bounced against his chest on a beaded metal chain. “Hey,” he called again, “what’s this about?”
The ranger sagged in relief. He motioned to Blake’s badge. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were FBI. It’s pandemonium up here.”
“You want to fill me in?” Blake asked.
“Some guy showed up with a news crew an hour ago. He says a woman was attacked here this morning. They aired a live interview snippet, and people started pouring in to have a look at the crime scene. Campers are scared. Some are leaving. The phone won’t stop ringing.”
Blake could barely hear the phone inside the little guard booth. He climbed onto a massive tree stump painted with the park hours and strained for a better look at the crowd near the white van. A man in Dickies and flannel stood beside a woman Blake recognized from the Channel Six News team. If that man hadn’t saved Marissa, Blake would’ve been tempted to escort him out of the park violently.
The ranger fixed Blake with an expectant look. “What should we do?”
As if on cue, the sheriff’s cruiser rolled into view, bouncing through the grass alongside a line of waiting cars. Blake whistled and waved to his brothers as West angled between the guard gate and overcrowded lot. No other cars would get in until he moved.
Cole jumped out. “We’ve got this. You got her?” He flicked his gaze to Blake’s truck.
Blake nodded and shook the ranger’s hand, eager to get back to Marissa. “Sheriff and Deputy Garrett will take it from here.” He jogged back to the truck and climbed inside. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
“Good.” He wrenched his truck free from the line and parked it in the grass beside the news van.
He pocketed the keys and turned for Marissa. “Ready?” The alarm in her eyes stunned him into silence. She’d put on a brave face at the station, but there was no confidence in her expression now. A distant part of him longed to comfort her somehow, but that wasn’t his place. She probably had a long line of people waiting to fold her into their arms and ease her fear. Blake’s job was to stop a madman.
She turned weary eyes on him. “Yes.”
“Don’t worry.” The statement was out before he’d thought better of it. Then, already heading downhill, he made it worse. “I won’t let him hurt you again.” The words soured on his tongue. How could he promise to protect her? He’d let Nash get away once already. Wasn’t it technically his fault that Nash had gotten ahold of her at all?
Marissa lifted her chin and rolled her shoulders back. “Thank you for saying so, but I’m not afraid.” The lie was evident in the lines gathered across her forehead, but Blake didn’t argue.
He climbed out and met Marissa on her side of the truck. “Why don’t you take me to where you left him?”
“Sure.” Marissa led the way down a gravel and mud path from Blake’s makeshift parking spot to the trailhead. “I started here around five thirty.”
“Miss?” A woman’s voice carried over the drone of the crowd. “Miss? Excuse me.” The Channel Six reporter hurried in Marissa’s direction waving a microphone. Her pink dress suit and pearls were sorely out of place in the park. Her pointy heels sank into the ground with each hurried step. Worse, she wasn’t alone. She was a mama duck, trailed by her cameraman, the guy who’d driven Marissa to the station and a row of nosy locals craning to get a look at the victim.
Marissa made a soft squeaky noise and Blake’s hackles rose. He widened his stance and lifted a palm in the reporter’s direction. “Stop right there.”
“Absolutely.” She fluffed her hair and straightened her jacket. “I’m Linda Somers, Channel Six News. And you are?” She eyeballed the badge around his neck. A sugary-sweet smile curved her lips.
The cameraman positioned himself near a tree and hoisted the camera onto one shoulder, arranging his shot. A little red light blinked at the side of his lens. He gave Linda a thumbs-up.
Her smile widened. “Are you here to investigate this morning’s attack, Federal Agent...” She left the sentence hanging.
“That’s Blake Garrett,” someone called from the crowd. “He’s the sheriff’s brother.”
Damn small towns. Blake ground his teeth. “Please direct your questions to Sheriff Garrett.”
“Is this the victim?” she asked. Pencil-thin eyebrows rose behind her bangs.
The man who’d called this fiasco into action nodded. “Yeah. That’s her. I found her running along the county road, crying.”
“You’re certain?” the reporter asked.
“Positive. I wouldn’t forget picking up a lady dressed like that.”
Marissa wrapped both arms around her middle and glared at the man. Her outfit might not be camera ready, but she was dressed appropria
tely for a run, which was likely the only thing she’d expected to do before her shower.
Blake groaned. “She has no comment.” He moved between Marissa and the reporter.
The cameraman honed in on them.
“What’s your name, Miss?” Linda asked. “Are you from Cade County? Do you come here often? How long have you known Federal Agent Garrett?”
Heat from Marissa’s body warmed his side. Her fingers pressed against his back as she stepped into view of the mob forming along the trailhead. He should’ve guessed she’d refuse to stay behind him. Fire churned in his gut. The bigmouthed reporter had taken the only tactical advantage Blake had over Nash—surprise. Now, Nash would know Blake was there, and the games would begin again before Blake was ready.
Blake scanned the crowd for his enemy. What if seeing him with Marissa fueled Nash’s need to get his hands on her again? What if Blake’s presence put her in more danger? As if the fact she’d gotten away wasn’t reason enough for him to come at her again.
West and Cole arrived a moment later, waving their badges and hollering instructions at the crowd.
“That’s our cue.” Blake wound his fingers around Marissa’s wrist and tugged. “Let them take care of the crowd. Let’s get back to what we came for.”
* * *
MARISSA TOOK THE LEAD, but her stomach protested the trip, and her limbs strained against her. Instinct begged her never to return to the place where she’d nearly been abducted, but resolve pushed her forward. Whether she wanted to go or not was irrelevant. Who knew how many more women would be in danger if the man who grabbed her wasn’t caught? Images of the awful moments flooded her mind, lifting the fine hairs along the back of her neck, and resurrecting another memory. A shiver rolled through her.
“What’s wrong?” Blake’s voice was low and cautious.
She scrubbed a hand over her lips. “I’m not sure. Maybe nothing.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“There was a man who tossed bread crumbs into the lake this summer. He was always there when I came back from my morning runs. That guy had a black hoodie like the man I saw today at the lookout. I know it’s not much, and everyone owns a black hoodie, but it could be something, right?”
Federal Agent Under Fire Page 2