The Killing Times (An FBI Romance Thriller (book 1))

by Kelley, Morgan

“Why Doc? He doesn’t fit your criteria, George,” she said, stepping closer, as she and Blackhawk split up trying to get a clean angle at him. One of them had to get a shot in, and for now she was making sure her brother stayed focused on her.

  “Stop right there, Agent,” he said, pointing at Doc’s brain. “I’ll kill him. Please don’t think that I won’t do it because he’s a family friend.” He turned back to his sister. “Because his name’s Samuel; he’s on the list and was the bait to get you here. Had you gone to his house you would have found my last note. I’m guessing you didn’t need it, E.L.”

  “No, George. I didn’t need the note. The missing foxglove from my garden and the wood chips in Sara’s hair gave you away. You got sloppy there at the end.” How her own brother could be a murderer astounded and repulsed her. From her peripheral vision, she could see her husband facing her; he had managed to slip far enough away and was moving into position. He was just waiting for a clear shot, and he would take it.

  He grinned wickedly. “I guess I should have left the flowers alone in my MOTHER’S garden,” he said, emphasizing that Elizabeth didn’t really have a right to call it hers.

  “I understand all the women, George,” she said, trying to relate to him and calm him down. Doc’s life now depended on it.

  “You have no idea!” he screamed in fury.

  She needed to keep him talking, or Doc was dead. “You were cleaning up the town, right George? Using the victims of the Salem witch trial, right?”

  “So, you did figure it out? Yes, I only killed those who the voice told me to kill, as they had to be cleansed of their sins.”

  “What were their sins, George?” she asked, taking his focus as her husband took one more step away and into a better angle. It alarmed her that he was hearing voices. It meant rationalizing with him was going to be difficult.

  “They were wicked women, E.L. Each one of them used men and their bodies to get what they wanted in life.”

  “They didn’t practice witchcraft, George. They were just young girls having fun.”

  He pulled at his hair in anger. “They offered up their bodies like whores, and I had to cleanse them. Don’t you see? They had no morals, and that’s why those women were killed. Women without morals are destructive and God needed them cleansed. Their names matched and the voice said it was a sign from God!”

  “So you drugged them with Foxglove, and then killed them.”

  “I cleansed them of their sins!”

  Elizabeth hoped she could keep his attention. “Sorry. Then you cleansed them.”

  Blackhawk just needed to move a little more, he was twelve feet from his wife, and making his way closer. Just a few more feet and he would be in the clear.

  “I need to know, George, why did you kill dad? Was it because he suspected you?” Elizabeth pushed her brother, digging for more answers, and saw him look upset, and it didn’t make sense. Elizabeth felt that tingle of awareness that something was off.

  “I didn’t kill dad,” George peeked around Doc at his sister, almost like a small, fearful child. “That wasn’t me, E.L.”

  But if it wasn’t him…

  “I killed him.” The voice came from behind her husband in the shadows of the barn.

  Elizabeth saw her husband turn fast, the voice catching him off-guard. All she heard next was the tell-tale popping of rapid shots, and then pain ripping into her body. She watched her husband go down first, feeling the sting of a bullet imbedding into her own flesh too. Her arm went numb as the pain radiated, and she dropped to her knees.

  Blackhawk knew he made a huge mistake. He never checked behind him in the shadows, and now he could feel the burn of bullets tearing into his body. His eyes searched for his wife, as he fell backwards. Everything seemed almost in slow motion. When his wife dropped, fighting to stay upright on her knees, he knew he didn’t keep his promise. The error he made had now cost her too. He closed his eyes and prayed for a miracle and tried to find a way to fix his mistake.

  “Ethan!” she screamed, looking over at her husband lying on the ground, and then back to the woman emerging from the shadows. It was Abigale, and she was holding the gun trained on Blackhawk. She wanted to crawl to him, but she knew the woman was insane. Abigale would take his life if she dared to move. Now it made sense. Her brother was the killer, and his mother the one directing him. It was her garden, her toxic plants, and her ex-husband. Her father wasn’t only killed because he was investigating; he was killed because he had divorced her and she wanted revenge.

  “I did that kill personally, and I have to tell you it was gratifying, especially after he betrayed me. When he brought home the divorce papers to sign, I knew that I would have my revenge. It took years of careful planning, but I am a patient woman, Elizabeth.”

  She couldn’t take her eyes off the woman. Elizabeth knew her gun was still in her hand, but all sensation was gone. Abigale hit a nerve. All she wanted to do was get to her husband and check his wounds. The teams had to hear the gunshots, and it was a matter of time until help came, but she had to stall. The FBI team wouldn’t rush the building with them in it. They would surround them and wait until they had a clear shot. It was now up to her to buy them time, or they were dead.

  When her step-mother stared at her husband, she had to get her to refocus. “You're a bitch, Abigale!” Elizabeth watched her move toward her downed husband. If the woman touched him, she’d charge her and risk her life in a heartbeat. Insulting her was risky, but it would keep her focus on her and not Ethan.

  “You sound like your father. I should have had George kill you when we had the chance. That bullet that hit the light, it should have been your brain.”

  “Why this game? Why all those women, Abigale. Are you that bored in your old age?”

  “They were tramps and whores, like the witches in Salem. Do you think its coincidence they all had the same names? They slept around, cheated, and were vile. Just like you and your father, Elizabeth. Both of you had no morals, and were in need of purification.”

  Elizabeth wouldn’t let her words rattle her; she just had to keep her talking and focused on her. To her knowledge, her father had been faithful to Abigale, and divorced her due to irreconcilable differences only. Finally, he figured out his wife was a bitch, and a huge mistake.

  Funny how she knew that on day one.

  “Each one threw themselves at your brother, but he’s too pure for them, and they marked themselves whores.”

  “We did what God instructed,” said George, as he now stood beside Doc.

  “What gave you the right to be judge, jury and executioner?” The woman was now standing over her husband, and Elizabeth could look at both at the same time. Her husband’s eyes were closed, and there was blood seeping out from under him in a puddle. She sent a silent prayer for his life, that she wouldn’t be visiting him in the morgue. If she lost him, she’d rather die with him than go on alone.

  “Why, you didn’t figure it out? All the names matched,” she said. “Even mine.”

  “I know all the women matched, with the exception of my father and the college girl, but I’m pretty sure there weren’t any LaRues on the list, or an Abigale.”

  “And your father said you were smart. My maiden name was Hawthorne. That’s the name of one of the main judges at the trial. He was the one that sentenced the women and men to die, and I see it as a sign from the almighty. A judge then and a judge now. It was my divine right. If you think about it, I’m going to be your judge as well.”

  Elizabeth never saw the list of the judges and she never thought to search it. Just that reasoning proved that she was completely and totally unhinged, and she raised her son to be just as insane. He was born and raised without a chance to be normal.

  “Now, Elizabeth, for once in your life, you will obey me and toss me the gun, or the Indian gets one to the brain. It won’t bother me at all to kill him, and at least it will be cheaper than a divorce. Oh wait, you won’t be alive to get a divorce. Want m
e to bury you together in the same unmarked grave?”

  Elizabeth moved forward at the mention of Abigale killing her husband.

  “Don’t even think about it. Let me assure you, your father taught me how to use the gun.”

  Elizabeth weighed her options, “Hey George, did you know your name is on the list too?” she asked, trying to buy time. By now, they should have back up around the building. “What if she decides to cleanse you next?”

  He looked at his mother and spoke, “I’m aware, E.L. I trust my mother. She gave me life and she speaks directly to God.”

  Elizabeth fought to not roll her eyes. At least she was right, it was a religious thing. She just didn’t think her step-mother was the head nutjob.

  “Mom, can’t we let her live? She’s right about not being on the list.”

  “She’s just like them, George. Elizabeth was sleeping around with the worthless Indian. You yourself saw her with him, the day after he came to town. Your sister’s a whore.”

  Elizabeth felt her anger growing at them referring to her husband as ‘worthless’, but she kept the fury locked inside her until she’d need it. “Then I married him, Abigale. So, I’m off the list,” she tried to cause confusion in her brother’s mind. “He’s my husband, not my lover, and I wasn’t sleeping with anyone else in Salem. I don’t use my body to lure in any man, but my husband. I also didn’t come on to my own brother. By your own rules, I’m in the clear.”

  George looked confused as to what to believe.

  “Trust your mother and not the whore.”

  “She’s changing the rules, George, mid-game,” she kept pushing.

  “Elizabeth, toss your gun behind you, or…” she pointed at Blackhawk’s skull.

  Elizabeth had no choice but to obey, switching hands, and wondering if she could get a shot in, and then decided against a left handed kill shot. If she missed, her husband and Doc were dead. She tossed the gun and hoped the FBI teams outside had heard Abigale’s gunshots.

  “Now stand up,” she waved the gun at Elizabeth and back to the FBI agent.

  There was no choice, but she was going to stall for time. Her eye caught the slight motion of her husband’s hand moving. His gun was now free and in her line of sight, but obstructed from Abigale’s. He tapped the side of the gun with his ring finger, three times. A signal to her, he was ready. The rest of his body stayed still, as he waited for the woman or Elizabeth, to make a move. Ethan Blackhawk had her back.

  They might just make it home yet.

  “I won’t make George kill you. He’s attached to his sister. No matter how much I tell him how sinful and filthy you are, but I don’t have a problem with it. I didn’t like you when you were a child, and I certainly don’t like you now. Your father raised a vile whore of a child. If he saw you married to this man, he’d be disgusted.” She kept the gun pointed at Blackhawk, and smiled. “I’ll enjoy killing you. Because of you and your father’s betrayal, he had to die.”

  Elizabeth stood facing her, blood dripping from her arm. “He died because he married some jacked up religious wackjob. I had nothing to do with it, Abigale. This was all your craziness, so fuck you!”

  It was the opening she needed; the woman lifted the gun and screamed as she went to pull the trigger. All she hoped was her husband was ready; shots at this range were going to hurt. Her trust was now in the man she married.

  Blackhawk heard his wife bait the woman to make her lose control, and then the horrible scream that meant she was going to kill Elizabeth. He moved, rolling, pumping the trigger of his gun at Abigale, his aim was off, but it still hit, taking her down in the kill shot.

  Everyone in the room froze as the next few seconds played out in slow motion. Each of them saw it from a different perspective, but all three played an active part. The slow motions slammed to a stop, and then sped up, almost like in a movie.

  Ethan Blackhawk watched from the floor as it all tumbled, like a chain of dominos. George howled, pushing Doc from the stool, rushing towards his falling mother. His gun was up and ready to kill him as he lie on the ground. There wouldn’t be enough time to move and he knew he was a dead man. Then Blackhawk saw his wife move into the line of fire to take the bullets meant for him. His heart stopped, as he understood now what it felt like to be the sane partner watching the cowboy one rush into danger. He heard the shots, saw her flinch and his life stopped briefly.

  As Abigale fell, George LaRue lost it. The last threads of sanity that were holding him to reality snapped, as the Indian killed his mother. George screamed as his mother lay on the ground motionless.

  He must kill the man who hurt her!

  George pushed Doc from the stool, knocking it out from under his feet and far into the shadows as he charged the man lying on the ground. The FBI agent was a dead man. He would kill him. His tunnel vision blocked him from seeing his sister, charging at him full force as he lifted the gun and pulled the trigger to end the Indian’s life.

  Elizabeth Blackhawk anticipated what was coming as it all unfolded. She knew her brother was going to kill her husband, and she moved, hoping she could buy her husband some time. His focus was on Blackhawk and it gave her a small window of opportunity, and it was now or never.

  She charged and their bodies crashed. She felt the two bullets hit the vest at a very close range, tearing the air from her lungs, but she willed herself to keep moving. With her uninjured arm, she was able to knock the gun from his hand. Her husband’s life was at stake and she was keeping her wedding vow, to stand by him in danger.

  “Elizabeth!” Blackhawk shouted, knowing she just took two shots close range, the two meant for him.

  “Save Doc,” she yelled back, rolling to her feet, as her chest was on fire. It was time to fight for all three of their lives. At least his gun was gone, now she’d have a level playing field.

  “The Indian killed my mother!” George screamed, charging at her and swinging at her face, trying to get her out of his way to get to Blackhawk.

  Elizabeth dodged and rammed into him with her good shoulder, again knocking him back to the ground. “Stay down, George!” She hoped he would, but he seemed crazed and this wasn’t going to be easy. He moved back at her, aiming for her shoulder and grazing it. The pain registered right before she brought up her knee, catching his ribs and knocking him back.

  Damn! Her arm was on fire.

  “I’m going to kill you and then him,” George screamed in rage, as he got back to his feet and rushed her.

  She knew her husband wouldn’t be able to get a clear shot as he helped Doc. This was going to be hand to hand fighting with a nutjob. Briefly, her eyes flickered to her husband, and it was all it took. The pain ripped through her body because she lost focus.

  George lunged, knocking her back as he jumped on her. With his fingers, he dug his hand into her bleeding wound.

  Elizabeth screamed in pain, as the room swam sickly. She turned her head toward her husband, who was desperately trying to hold Doc up to keep him from strangling. The sheer horror on his face gave her the will to fight more. Her left hand came up, slamming into his nose. With a crunch of bone and a squirt of blood, George fell backwards and she rolled free. It had cost her, as the room was fuzzy, and she struggled to not pass out.

  Blackhawk wedged himself under the old man’s body, lifting him up to keep him from dying. His one arm was dead. His other with the gun was holding the ME up, saving him from death. He watched his wife fighting for his life and hers, and he couldn’t get to her. He couldn’t choose her or Doc. Now he just had to trust. Motion at the window grabbed his attention. The cavalry was coming! He prayed she’d hang in there. Suddenly he wanted to scream for them to hurry, but he didn’t want to distract her, while she fought a man almost twice her size. She needed her focus.

  Once you lost focus you died.

  George swung, slamming his fist into the side of her head, and she went down as he kicked viciously at her ribs. He would make them pay for killing his mother!
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  First her and then him.

  “I should have killed you both yesterday on your way into your house,” he hissed in anger, as his hands were around her throat, squeezing the life from his flesh and blood as he slammed her head against the concrete floor. “He was going to be dead last night if he came out; I wanted to blow his half-breed brains out and make you watch.”

  Elizabeth got angry.

  It was all it took. No one called her husband names!

  She found a little energy and slammed the palm of her hand into his chin, knocking him off her body. She got to her feet, in so much pain, and so little energy left to fight. He charged her again, and with her elbow, she spun and slammed it into his face, dead center. The impact was so hard she felt the pain sing up her body and the sick crunch of bone in his face. He went down, and she stumbled to her gun, just as the door flew open and FBI agents rushed them.

  Elizabeth picked up her gun and held it. Blood was dripping sickly down her arm and hand and dropping in fat plops to the floor.

  Her team rushed her. “Help Ethan first,” she whispered, dropping to her knees and falling back to lie on the floor, as she watched her husband struggling to hold Doc up. Beside her on the ground lay her brother, a sickly gurgle coming from him, as he tried to breathe through the blood and damaged face.

  The minute the rope was cut; Ethan stumbled away and fell as he began crawling to his wife. She was a bloody mess and he needed to get to her. Watching her fight for her life against her brother scared him shitless, and he needed to touch her and assure himself she was going to be okay.

  “Ethan, how bad are you hurt?” she whispered, barely able to breathe through the injured ribs and battered body.

  “My shoulder is a mess,” he said. “You don’t look so good, baby.” The blood dripped from her nose and ear, and he felt fear squeeze at him.

  She didn’t say a word. Her eyes fluttered closed, as she heard the ambulances coming. The killers were caught, now she could just close her eyes and relax. They were both alive and the job was done.

  Blackhawk pulled at her vest, trying to set her free. She had two bullet holes to the center but it held. There was one bleeding wound to her shoulder; the same shoulder she’d been shot in before. “Get the ambulance crew in here,” he yelled in sheer panic, at the blood running from her arm and from the side of her face. All he could hope was it would be a minor injury and she’d recover.