Under the Agent's Protection

by Jennifer D. Bokal

  She inhaled and noisily exhaled. Shaking out arms and legs, she said, “I’m ready.”

  He was beginning to appreciate her frankness and her sense of humor, especially after the horror of earlier that night. He couldn’t help but smile. “Smart-ass,” he said, teasing.

  Turning to the room, he flipped the light switch. It was just as he expected. Towering from floor to ceiling, dozens of boxes were stacked on top of each other. They ringed the wall and created a corridor through the middle of the room.

  Everly came up behind him, so close he felt the heat from her body. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. “Wow,” she said. “That is a lot of cases.”

  “I was the top behavioral scientist for the Bureau,” he said. “I used to travel all over the world and consult on cases of all kinds.”

  “You should write a book,” said Everly. “It’d be a blockbuster.”

  “The thought has crossed my mind before,” he said. “But I put that part of my life behind me and I intend to leave it in the past,” he said.

  She didn’t say anything, only nodded. It left Wyatt wondering her thoughts on the matter. Then again, why should he care? He continued, changing the subject completely, “Anyway, nothing’s been moved in this room. It’s exactly like I left it after coming up for the old case file this morning.”

  He turned to leave and came face-to-face with Everly. Her breasts pressed against his chest. The shadow of her nipples was unmistakable under the thin fabric of her tank top. He could see her pulse flutter at the base of her neck. His skin tingled, and his own heart began to race. “I’ll just...” he began. His eyes were drawn to her lips and he forgot his next words. Pointing to the bathroom, he said, “I need to look in there.”

  “Oh, sure,” she said.

  He stepped to the side. She mirrored his movement. “Sorry, I’ll go this way.”

  He stepped back. She did, too.

  Wyatt placed his hands on her shoulders. God, she was so soft. A spicy sweetness still surrounded her like a halo. He looked at her mouth and licked his lips, hungry to kiss her. Yet, he knew that he had to remain professional. Not that being professional wasn’t a good idea, it’s just that Wyatt wasn’t in the mood to make respectable decisions right now.

  Hands still on her shoulders, Wyatt said, “You stay here.”

  He stepped past her and turned on the bathroom light. White and black tiles. Claw-foot tub. Shower curtain on a circular rod. Pedestal sink. It was just as it should be, down to the sliver of soap sitting in an indent on the back of the sink.

  “There’s no one else in this house,” he said, “except you and me.”

  Gus whimpered from his place on the threshold.

  “You, and me, and Gus,” Wyatt amended.

  She nodded. “Well, then.” Hitching her chin toward the master bedroom, she continued, “I guess I better...”

  “Sure,” he said. He gestured to the stairs. “I should go.”

  “G’night, then.”

  Gus came to stand at Everly’s side, and she stroked his ears. Gus sighed contentedly.

  Lucky dog.

  Wyatt felt the void in his own chest. Funny, he thought he’d gotten used to the solitude and now Wyatt wished that Everly would stay up a little more and talk. When had he last craved company? Turning, he moved to the stairs.

  “Wyatt.” She’d spoken his name softly, musically.

  He froze with one of his feet hovering above the abyss.

  “Wyatt,” she said again.

  This time he looked toward her.

  “Do you mind?” she asked. Using her thumb, she pointed to the bedroom. “I hate to be so forward, but...” She swallowed.

  Wyatt’s jaw tensed.

  “Will you sleep with me?”

  * * *

  Everly could tell by Wyatt’s widened eyes that he’d misunderstood her request. Then again, she’d been naive in the extreme not to realize the sexual implication. Her cheeks flamed red and hot. She cleared her throat and tried again.

  “I’ve been attacked twice today. My brother was murdered. I don’t know when I’ll ever feel safe again, but I definitely won’t be able to sleep by myself. I don’t snore too much,” she said, making light of the awkward moment.

  Wyatt climbed the stairs that separated them and came to stand on the landing until he was only inches away from her. Heat radiated off his body, igniting something deep inside her.

  “How do you know you can trust me?” he asked. His voice was dark as midnight and smooth as velvet.

  For a moment, she was breathless with longing.

  After realizing that she’d stood mute for a moment too long, she began speaking. “Well, obviously you aren’t the person who gave me this.” She touched the cut on her throat. “Which means you didn’t give me this, either.” Her fingers grazed the goose egg at the back of her skull. “Which means you aren’t a threat and so...” She shrugged. “You’re the one guy I can trust.”

  She raked her fingers through her hair and let out all the air from her lungs. “Never mind. This has been a horrible day and I can see from the look on your face that I’m asking too much.”

  “I think wanting someone with you for protection and comfort makes sense, Everly.”

  “But I’m asking too much from you,” she said.

  “I’m not used to sharing anything,” he said. “Especially, these days, my bed.”

  Her face felt as if it was on fire. Thank goodness the lights were off, and he couldn’t see her blushing. “You’ll be downstairs for protection, right? And I have Gus here for company.” The dog ambled to Everly’s side and leaned into her. She ran her fingers through the downy fur on the top of his head.

  She waited a minute for Wyatt to say something. But what else needed to be said? With a nod of resignation, she stepped into the room.

  “Everly,” he said. His voice was smoke—dusky and dangerous. “Wait.”

  She paused but didn’t turn around. The floorboard behind her creaked with his approach. Wyatt’s breath warmed her shoulder.

  “You’re wrong,” he whispered. “You can’t trust me, and I don’t think you need a man as shattered as I am right now.” His fingertips brushed against her collarbone and his hand trailed from her shoulder to her arm. “And if you and I get in that bed, I promise you that sleeping is the last thing I’d want to do.”

  His whispered words washed over her. A shiver traveled through Everly. It wasn’t from fear...but desire.

  Holding her breath, Everly stood in the middle of the room. She waited a minute...and a minute more. When she turned, he had gone. Padding softly across the floor, she slipped under the covers. She called softly to Gus. The dog approached. After lifting his paws to the mattress, he hesitated.

  “Not you, too,” she said. “I’m not sure I can handle being turned down twice in one night.”

  Gus cocked his head as if considering and then leaped onto the bed. He nosed the quilt for a moment before settling near the foot of the mattress.

  Like a small, frightened animal, Everly burrowed under the covers. The blankets smelled of crisp pine and sunshine and the biting cold. They smelled like Wyatt. She inhaled deeply, and Gus began to snore softly. Relaxing into the pillow, Everly stretched out on the bed and her eyes began to feel heavy with sleep.

  Wyatt had been right—and he had been wrong. Having Gus in the bed with her made a difference. Wasn’t that what she’d wanted from Wyatt—another living and breathing soul to remind Everly that she wasn’t alone?

  But he’d also been wrong when he said that she didn’t want a man as shattered as he was. In fact, Everly imagined that Wyatt wasn’t really shattered, not like a broken mirror that was fractured into thousands of pieces. Rather he was an antique-looking glass, veined and faded with disuse. She dropped into a deep well of sleep, floating endlessly
until she came upon a mirror. There was something familiar about it. Large. Rectangular. Mounted to a wall. Then she remembered—it was in the hotel, in Axl’s room.

  Behind Everly stood a figure. She looked at the face in the reflection. The eyes. The nose. The mouth. All the features were clear as crystal.

  She sat up, her pulse racing. She gripped the sheets, her fingers winding in and out of the fabric. The dream had been terrifying for sure, but what bothered Everly the most was the realization that she’d seen the killer. And as she’d awakened, the face disappeared into the shadowy corners of her memory.

  Chapter 7

  In the morning, Wyatt was anxious to get started. He’d showered early and eaten a bowl of cereal—pretty much all he had around resembling breakfast. Everly was also up before the dawn and had showered and eaten early, as well. They knew that today would be monumental for them both. Despite the restless energy that coursed through his veins, he had to get Gus out of the house for a long walk. Besides, there was something else that Wyatt needed to do for Everly.

  He was glad to see that she’d dressed for the weather. Jeans. Sweater. Shearling-lined boots. Coat. Hat. Gloves. They strolled through the woods. Dappled sunlight illuminated the blanket of sparkling snow, disturbed only by Gus’s paw prints.

  Wyatt cast a sideways glance at Everly. Despite her casual clothes, she was still the warrior goddess, but today she was serene—and sad.

  Perhaps he could help.

  “In town yesterday,” he began, “you asked me for help. Asked me to show you where your brother was found. I turned you down on both counts.”

  “You’re helping now. That’s all the matters.”

  Was it? “I can help in other ways, if you want.”

  She quirked up one eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “If you want, I can show you the old schoolhouse. That’s where I found your brother.”

  Everly’s pace never faltered. “Okay.”

  Ever since he’d met her, Everly could be fast, furious, passionate—like a force of nature. But today, she seemed fragile—breakable. Or maybe she was already broken.

  Was she offended the he didn’t stay in the room last night? It wasn’t that Wyatt was an animal, unable to control his basest needs. It’s just that where Everly was concerned, he’d have a hell of a time reining himself in.

  “Maybe we should talk about last night,” he said.

  “I had a dream,” she began. She kept walking, head down, arms folded. “It was about the killer. I looked in a mirror and I saw their reflection. More than that, I don’t think it was simply a dream but actually a memory.”

  Wyatt stopped in his tracks. Despite the cold, he began to perspire. So, Everly had seen the killer. It just took a bit of sleep to bring that important detail to the surface. He’d seen it happen before in other cases, it’s just that he hadn’t dared to hope that Everly’s memory would resurface.

  Wyatt’s mind was working out the problem of how to identify someone from sleep. It’d take a good bit of doing. He began to think out loud. “I can find a sketch artist and then we can enter the likeness into a national database of violent offenders.”

  She shook her head. “Sorry,” she said. “I can’t...”

  “What do you mean?” he asked interrupting.

  “I can’t remember what they look like, that’s the problem,” she said, sounding frustrated. “I keep replaying the dream in my mind, but when I look in the mirror, there’s nothing there—only a shadow.”

  Damn. They were so close. “Memories are tricky things,” he said. “The harder you try to force the recall, the more it slips through your fingers.”

  “You seem very calm for someone who’s been chasing the same killer for the better part of a decade.”

  Wyatt placed his hand on his chest. “I’m glad I look serene, but I’m not. My heart is racing and the killer’s so close I can almost smell him in the air.”

  Everly drew in a deep breath, as if trying to catch the scent.

  “That memory’s in your mind,” he said. “Something will trigger it. It’ll come back.”

  “What if it doesn’t?” she asked.

  “It will,” said Wyatt. “Until then, we have other ways to investigate your brother’s death.” The trail wound around a hill and ascended to a field in the middle of the forest. Mist, rising from the melting snow, surrounded a single dwelling. “We’re here,” he said, pointing to the old schoolhouse. “That’s where I discovered Axl’s body.”

  * * *

  For a single agonizing moment, the call about Axl’s death was more real than the biting air and the distant mountains. Everly had walking out of her apartment, barely on time for a staff meeting. She’d only taken the call because of the Wyoming area code and knowing that her brother was working in the state for the next few weeks. She had expected to hear his voice. Never before had she been more wrong.

  “Everly Baker? This is Sheriff Carl Haak of Pleasant Pines, Wyoming. I’m afraid I have some terrible news. It seems there’s been an accident.”

  At that moment, her life had been irrevocably altered. Less than two days later and she had only the haziest recollection of the hours that followed. Somehow, she had the wherewithal to fly to Cheyenne and rent a car—deciding along the way that Axl’s death hadn’t been accidental and she was determined to find justice for her brother.

  Now, she was here—bruised and battered. All the same, she no closer to discovering the truth.

  Her throat burned. Her chest ached. A sob bubbled up in her middle and she bit her lip to keep it from breaking free.

  “Tell me,” she said, her voice hoarse. A single tear rolled down her cheek and she swiped it away with the back of her hand. “Tell me everything you remember about that morning.”

  Wyatt scratched the side of his face. It was a gesture she’d seen before—his way of buying time while he decided what to do or say next. “It was Gus. We were out on our morning walk. He went after a stick, then ran off and started barking. I just followed.”

  Walking toward the building, Wyatt left tracks in the snow. Everly followed. Two strands of plastic police tape blocked the doorway. Wyatt stopped at the threshold and Everly stood by his side. “The body, I mean your brother, was in the back corner. There were gouges on his face, but that was postmortem. In fact, I’d say your brother was fed the alcohol and anti-nausea medicine somewhere else and then was dumped here to die.”

  “Dumped.” The word made her sick. “Like garbage.” One day soon, she’d cry and curse life for being unfair, but not now. Losing herself in grief wouldn’t accomplish anything for Axl. Everly had to stay focused.

  Wyatt ducked under the police tape, entering the old building. Everly was right behind. Even after a century of wind, and snow, and rain, all the walls were intact. As if in a dream, she moved to the corner, the place her brother had been found. Tracing her fingers over the cold floor, she tried to find something of Axl—his soul, his energy, or whatever remained after someone died.

  There was nothing and Everly knew that she was truly alone in the world. After a moment, she asked, “What do you think happened? I know he got drunk one way or another and was left here to die, but do you think he suffered?”

  “I doubt he felt anything beyond intoxicated,” said Wyatt. “In fact, I’d be surprised if he ever knew that he’d been left in this building.”

  “Axl was a recovering alcoholic,” said Everly. “I wonder why he decided to drink again.”

  “Maybe the taste was somehow masked,” Wyatt suggested. “And he was tricked into drinking too much.”

  “It’s subtle,” said Everly.

  “It’s evil,” corrected Wyatt. “And calculating as hell.”

  “I guess what I want to say is that there’s no violence to these deaths. The killer didn’t shoot anyone or stab anyone or strangle a single person. It’s a
lmost like, ‘Oops, you got too drunk. Now, I’m going to leave you outside until you die.’ You know?”

  Wyatt shook his head. “I think that the cut on your neck paints a different picture.”

  Picture. “We need to look for Axl’s camera,” she said, interrupting what else Wyatt was about to say. Maybe her brother had taken a picture of his killer. She rushed to the doorway and stepped into the snow. Spinning in a tight circle, Everly scanned the horizon. There was nothing to see beyond snow and trees.

  “I doubt we’ll find anything now. Let’s come back after the snow melts.”

  “Unless I’m no longer in Pleasant Pines. Didn’t Sheriff Haak tell me I had to leave town as soon as Axl’s body was ready to go back to Chicago?”

  “Damn. He did. That means we have a lot to do and not as much time as we need.” Wyatt consulted a smartwatch on his wrist. “It’s a quarter after eight. We can be in town by nine o’clock and go straight to the Rocky Mountain Justice offices.”

  It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was more than Everly could ever do on her own. “Thanks for bringing me out here,” she said as they turned back to Wyatt’s house. “In a sad way, I think Axl would’ve appreciated being left in that old schoolhouse. He loved the outdoors—hated the city.” She glanced back once more at the ramshackle building then fell into step next to Wyatt, heading toward a future she could barely comprehend.

  * * *

  It was darkest in the shadows cast by the trees. Beyond, the fresh snow sparkled in the morning sun, like a carpet of diamonds. From this distance, the Darkness could see Wyatt and the woman, but not hear what they said.

  From the tree line, the Darkness had watched as they trekked to the final resting place. Or one of them, at least. The Darkness made sure that each spot was sacred. Serene. Wyatt had brought the woman, showing the power of the Darkness.

  Hatred bubbled up from deep inside. It was almost as if the woman would defile the inviolability of the place. Still, she was the one who had goaded Wyatt and once again, he was playing the game.