“Cover me?” he asked, crawling towards the back of the SUV. If he followed the trees, he might make it to the back of the house and the little girl.
“Yeah, I got you,” Lily replied, waiting for the next shot to be fired, before she took her shot. “Make it fast and don’t do anything stupid.”
Blackhawk rushed the tree line, hoping it would lead to a way inside. Once there, he would go in and with any luck not lose his life, or the little girl in the process. He was more than willing to risk his career and his own neck, but not the child’s life.
There was one thing for sure. After this, he was taking a long vacation somewhere hot, and where the beer was plentiful.
As he made it to the rear of the dwelling, he found the window unsecured. Slowly lifting it, he tried to make no sound at all. Though he doubted anyone would hear a thing over the rifle fire, and his partner’s returned shots. Ethan listened for the next round and timed it to coincide. Pushing his body into the house, he rolled to his feet and pressed himself against the wall.
Now he was one step closer.
So far so good.
Across the room sat a mirror on the mantle. It was giving him a direct visual into the room where the man was standing. Ethan only hoped he didn’t show in that reflection too. The little girl was crouched down in the corner, hands over her ears and tears streaming down her face. His only thought at that point was to save her life.
As he watched the man reload and fire off a round at his partner outside, he stepped around the corner. Before Blackhawk could identify himself as the FBI, the creaky floor board gave away his position. The man spun, firing his last shot off just as Ethan pulled the trigger himself.
The pain was excruciating as it knocked him to the floor. Shit, he took a shot to the center of the vest. Silence ensued and when the pain lessened, he pushed up onto his elbows. The man was lying on the floor in a growing puddle of blood. His attention was drawn to the little girl’s sobs as they were getting louder and more hysterical.
“It’s okay Charla, I’m here to bring you home.” He tried to comfort her, as his partner peeked in through the shot out window.
“You okay, Blackhawk?” she called, assessing the scene. Her idiot partner managed to not get killed again. The man obviously had one hell of a guardian angel watching over him. The Cowboy was a lucky man.
“It was a twenty two caliber rifle,” he replied, lying back down on the floor. His eyes and gun never left the downed man’s prone body-just in case.
With his free hand he checked beneath his vest. There was a vicious bump in the metal plate, and he knew because it held up, he would live to see another assignment.
That was if his boss or partner didn’t kill him first.
Special Agent Lily Sanderson entered the house, clearing the rooms to make sure they wouldn’t be ambushed. When she reached her partner, she shook her head. “Do you need an ambulance?”
“Yeah, you better call one for the suspect and Charla. I'm going to be fine.”
Lily opened her arms for the girl, and she went willingly into them. “Let’s get you out of here,” she said, opening the door. “You don’t need to see any more of this. I hear sirens and the cavalry is on its way. You’ll be going home to mommy soon.”
“Better late than never,” he muttered, getting to his feet and walking past the man who nearly ended his life. “I need a vacation and a drink.”
That wasn’t what he really wanted. He was longing for the raven haired beauty in his dreams.
* * *
Six Hours Later
Once again, the dreams were back. They were pursuing him more fervently, as if desperate to give him a message. They were the same as so many nights before. Not that he minded sharing his moments with her. She brought him peace and this feeling of complete acceptance. This woman needed and wanted him. Every night when he closed his eyes, he knew she’d be there waiting for him.
As sleep gripped him, there she stood again but this time they were on a lake. His nameless beauty stood on the water as if by some sort of magic. As she walked, her feet never dipped below the surface, as a normal human’s should.
Her hair was free and blowing in the wind. A long, billowy dress caressed her sexy body, as she just watched him- never blinking. As he moved closer to her, she beckoned him with her hand, as if to ask him to walk onto the watery glass and trust her. There was no doubt he would do it. What he felt for her screamed of need, trust and the burgeoning beginnings of love.
Tonight in his dream, she looked ethereal. What Blackhawk would give to simply touch her skin. She was pale and fair, and the opposite his own tan hue. He would bet that her flesh would feel like silk beneath his fingers. Even in his dreams his body tightened, wanting her.
It had been a year of visions, each one different and yet building in magnitude, as if something was coming.
His mystery woman called his name, and this time in this dream she wasn’t covered in blood. This time she looked serene. And yet that disturbed him. What had changed since the last dream? He hoped they wouldn’t come to an end. His days of hellish work had been worth it, when she filled his nights. It couldn’t end, not until he had her name. Again, she beckoned and his desire to touch her propelled him forward, following her lead.
One step
Two steps
On the third step he stopped. He was fingertips away from contact with her, and it occurred to him this was as close as he ever came in his dreams. By now they would have faded away cruelly. On the next breeze, he could smell her perfume, and it called to him. It wasn’t flowery but spicy, and it bordered on a mix of cinnamon and other exotic scents. He could feel his body tighten just from that alone. Her eyes were huge, icy blue, and filled with such sorrow, that it made him ache for her. Something in him demanded he protect this woman, if he could ever find her. It was an obsession he was hopeless to fight.
God, what he would give to touch her hair, feeling it run across his naked body. It looked like black silk, and he was compelled to bring it to his nose to memorize its scent.
“What’s your name?” he begged, unsure if his voice was even heard above the wind. It was a voice filled with lust and need for only her. Here in his dreams she was his alone.
Confusion crossed her face. “I’m Justice, Ethan, for those that have no voice.”
Blackhawk stepped closer, and yet she still seemed just out of his reach, and it was frustrating as hell. “What’s your real name? I can’t find you if I don’t know your name.” If he just got that little piece of the puzzle, he would move heaven and hell to locate her.
Her smile warmed him, “Find me Ethan, and I will be forever part of your life, and you will never be alone.” This time she stepped forward and touched his cheek. She ran her thumb over his lower lip, bringing her own lips so achingly close to his. “I’m waiting for you to save me. I need you, Ethan Blackhawk,” she stepped back, placing her hand over the tattoo on his chest, her eyes never leaving his as she caressed it. “We are meant to be.”
Slowly, she began sinking into the lake, his hand trying to hold her wrist and keep the beauty with him. Finally, she touched him, and now the water was swallowing her and taking her away. The mystery woman slipped from his fingers, and he had no choice but to release her.
As if to torment him, he could still see her through the water. It housed her in its grasps, like a coffin of glass, just out of his reach. Taunting him and letting him know that she still wasn’t his, and wouldn’t be unless he found her.
Her hair billowed out in the water, body floating as if trapped. He pounded on the surface to reach her and to break through and free her from her watery grave. Her hands were palm to palm with his, and her eyes filled with such hopelessness. Blackhawk watched her lips move, no sound from them, but the words clear in his mind.
“I need you, Ethan! Find me!”
He sat up in bed, pain ripping through his body as a gasp was torn from his lips. His hand immediately went to his ch
est, gently touching the bruise that had formed there. Inked onto his sore flesh sat the black tattoo of his youth, that she had touched ever so delicately and lovingly. His mind wasn’t on his discomfort at all. It was on the way she felt as there was finally contact between them.
He already knew the truth.
She was his woman.
Desperation rose in him, as he vowed to find her. She haunted him, leading him no closer to discovering her location to save her. He closed his eyes again, wanting nothing more than sleep, so he could once more chase the beauty.
Now it was solely about making her his own.
Blackhawk knew without a doubt that she was meant to be his. He could feel it to his soul.
Now all he had to do was beat insurmountable.
Oh yeah, and find her first.
~ Chapter Two ~
Tuesday Evening
Elizabeth sat in the attic of her father’s home, looking tentatively at the box that sat before her. Inside were the contents from his desk. The desk she had to clean out the day after she buried his body.
It was like yesterday, not the full year that had passed. Elizabeth allowed herself the daydream of going back to that day when she walked into his office after his death.
The sadness crushed her.
It was so bad she couldn’t even pack his things, only sit at his desk and weep for her loss.
The reminiscing continued as Elizabeth realized she had no one left. Her mother died so long ago. Time had not been kind, as she sometimes forgot her face and voice, and now her father had joined her. Elizabeth wondered if in twenty years, the same thing would happen to Charlie. Would she forget the man who raised her, made her, and molded her?
As she sat in his desk chair, contemplating what to do for his funeral, she couldn’t help but look at the picture on his shelf. It sent a knife through her heart. It was graduation day from Quantico, and he had been so proud. Now she was tarnished, and she wondered if he would have held his head high, as she quit her job in shame and humiliation.
Probably not!
Elizabeth wasn’t proud of the mistakes she’d succumbed to, how could he be?
Pulling herself back to the present, Elizabeth touched the box reverently. Inside were the pictures, laptop, and all his personal effects. Thankfully, she didn’t have to pack it herself. Tony had done it for her, and for that she was grateful. In fact, when she returned, it had all been handled. Elizabeth didn’t even have to carry the boxes up the stairs to dusty storage.
For that alone, she owed Tony.
The day of the funeral had been difficult. Elizabeth had to make the long trip back north, to place him beside her mom. There had been hell to pay with his ex-wife, but that didn’t matter. Her step-mother’s wishes were inconsequential. In her mind, he would want to be with his first wife, and love of his life. As executor of his will, she made the final call.
To give him peace in the afterlife, Elizabeth would willingly carry any anger directed towards her.
When she arrived home after the reading of the will, they all struggled to lay the past to rest. There was more drama from her step-mother, and wounds she wasn’t sure would ever heal.
Charlie’s life insurance paid for the funeral, for the interment, and then it took care of any other debt. Some of the remaining money went to her half-brother, and he had used it to buy his own pub and eatery.
She couldn’t fault him that. He was after all Charlie’s son, and her flesh and blood. Maybe it was their age difference that forced them to never feel cohesive. There was always this understated jealousy and a fight for their father’s attention.
Then the divorce happened.
Her brother was put in the middle against her father’s wishes and desires. Divorce was messy to begin with, but none more so than this one. It wasn’t pretty, but in spirit of his love for his son, her father had given his ex-wife more than was expected or deserved. Charlie built them a house on the outskirts of the property, making sure his son was able to see him any time he wished.
The ‘sins’ of the father were not held against the son at all.
Once again forcing herself to the present, Elizabeth opened the box, pulling out the photos. The first one was of her and her brother, George, and then one of her by herself. It warmed her that at one time she was smiling, proud, and full of life in the pictures. Next she removed the laptop, blowing the dust from the top. There was this urgency to turn it on, but that soon turned to dismay when it was dead. Damn, the battery was drained. Hurriedly, she dug through the carton, pulling out the power cord and something else with it.
The object fell with a light thud into her lap. Picking it up, she cradled it in her hand. Touching it reverently with her fingers, Elizabeth remembered exactly why she wanted it packed away. The badge was still shiny and still attached to the FBI ID with her smiling picture. Funny how the past always seemed to come back and bite you when you least expected it.
With no thought, she dropped it back into the box, not ready to even go there emotionally. Right now, she had to dig into her father’s last few hours of life, and that was going to be tough enough.
Pushing the box back into the shadows, she stood and planned her evening. While the laptop charged, Elizabeth would get a shower, make some coffee, and then start the journey into the last few days of her father’s life.
Elizabeth had just sat down to the computer, and turned it on, when there was a knock at the door. It wasn’t unusual to get a visitor, but at this time of night it was rarely a good thing. She went to answer and frowned as she looked out the peep hole. It was the medical examiner, and he didn’t make house calls.
Well he did, but you generally ended up in a bag and on a slab if he came to your house.
Elizabeth was far from the slab or at least she hoped so.
“Doc, what’s wrong?” she inquired, as she opened the door for the older man.
Doctor Trudeaux walked in, patting her on the shoulder. He had a genuine fondness for the sheriff. Charlie had been his best friend for years. He loved the LaRue family, and that’s why he stopped in on his own.
There were inconsistencies that she needed to hear about.
“I finished the autopsies.”
Elizabeth poured him some coffee, handing him a mug and sat across from him on the sofa. “You came all the way out here to tell me this?” She could feel a wave of uneasiness wash over her. Doc didn’t make social calls after an autopsy either.
“They both drowned.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I figured, since they were found in the lake, bloated and a snack for the fish. I know I didn’t attend medical school, but I did have forensics at Quantico. A dead body in a lake usually means drowning.”
He sipped his coffee, taking in the woman before him. She had changed a great deal since returning to Salem. Elizabeth LaRue used to be so filled with peace and calm. Now there was a tension in her, and even sarcasm that wasn’t there before. Thinking back, he couldn’t remember the last time she looked relaxed. A cold hard edge had been created by whatever happened in the FBI. This woman was being chased and haunted in her daily life and it made his heart ache.
It was evident by her face that she was a changed woman, and not for the good. “I put it in the report,” he said, pulling out the papers from his old leather briefcase. “I wanted to deliver it to you directly and not through the office.”
Elizabeth took the papers and scanned them. When she arrived at the singular line, she glanced up at him. “Is it a suspicious death, or do we have two girls out playing in the water who didn’t make it back to shore?”
“I’m calling it suspicious.”
She began to read the reports, stopping at the section he was now pointing out for her. “Fluid was found in the lungs, so they both did drown? That could be accidental.”
“I put a rush on the fluid; it’s been a slow lab week. They analyzed it, and it came back that it was chlorinated water.”
She closed the file and sat back
. The wheels began spinning in her head. Lake water couldn’t test as chlorinated water.
This meant that those girls didn't die there. At least she now had a direction to follow and this put the bodies in the homicide column.
“I’m worried, Lyzee,”
She was too, but didn’t admit it. “So, we have two girls who drowned in chlorinated water, and then they were placed in the lake posthumously.”
“There was no sexual assault or defensive wounds on either girl.”
The sheriff began processing all the details in her mind. “Do we have a time of death?”
Doc deposited his empty coffee mug on her table and continued, “It was only a few hours prior. The water distorted the precise TOD, but I will venture to say between midnight and one in the morning.”
Elizabeth crossed her legs, and pondered how this fit in with what her father was investigating, “Dad had some suspicious murders before he died, and now I have a double murder dropped into my lap.”
He nodded and added, “Or we have an accidental death, and someone dumped the bodies to make sure they didn’t get in trouble. Tox screen is still out, but I put a rush on it. For now this is going down in the books as suspicious, until you have some time to deem otherwise.”
“I’m not buying anything less than homicide, Doc. I can see swimming and an accidental drowning; someone panics and dumps one body, but two? That’s not accidental, that’s intentional. Two women drown at the same time and go into the lake at the same time? That’s a dumping ground for evidence and nothing more.”
It was time to talk about the past.
“When my father was found at his desk, I was told he was investigating a trio of deaths.”
Doc laced his fingers behind his head of white hair. He remembered them all. Death left impressions on you, even when the victim changed. “Your father had spoken to me earlier that day at the morgue. He came in needing information on all three women. There was Tara Scott, Melissa Martin, and Melody Howe. The first two were victims of an arson fire. COD was burning alive in the dwelling. They had smoke in their lungs and didn't make it out. The last victim appeared to have committed suicide in the park. She left no note and was found hanging from a tree.”
The Killing Times (An FBI Romance Thriller (book 1)) Page 3