Under the Agent's Protection

by Jennifer D. Bokal

  There had to be a connection between Las Vegas and Pleasant Pines.

  Like a sun cresting the horizon, he understood that there was only one thing that would bring Darcy Owens to Wyoming—it was him. It had been Wyatt all along.

  Darcy was playing a sick game, and he was her unwitting opponent.

  It was why the killings stopped when he left Las Vegas.

  It was why a body was dumped at the old schoolhouse, where he would be the one to find it.

  It was also how he knew exactly where she’d taken Everly.

  Knowing where to look was a good thing, but he’d never be able to catch Darcy unaware. What Wyatt needed was help. Taking the phone from his pocket, he placed a call.

  “Wyatt,” said Sheriff Haak as he answered. “I was just reading your email. It looks like you finally caught your man.”

  “Larry Walker’s not the serial killer—and I need your help,” said Wyatt. He felt the seconds ticking by with each beat of his heart. He rushed from the empty house to his truck and started the engine. “I don’t have time to explain everything right now, but it was Darcy Owens all along. She was Larry’s roommate in Las Vegas, so she’d have access to the apartment.”

  “His roommate? I don’t get it? Last night, it sounded like she barely knew him.”

  “It was a lie,” he said. Tires squealing, he pulled away from the curb. “We need to act now. She’s got Everly.”

  “Whoa there,” said the sheriff. “Hold your horses one second and tell me what’s happening. How’s Everly involved, exactly?”

  Wyatt took a deep breath to steel himself. “I went looking for Everly at Darcy’s house. There’s evidence of a confrontation and there’s blood on the floor. And...her brother’s missing camera. It’s here.”

  Wyatt felt desperation threaten to choke him, but he tamped it down. He had one goal—and he wouldn’t be distracted by emotion. “Everly’s car is still in front of Darcy’s house but both of the women are gone.”

  “Tell me what you need,” said Sheriff Haak. “And I’ll do it.”

  “I think I know where Darcy’s taken Everly. They’re at the old schoolhouse. I’m going there now and need backup. Can you meet me?”

  “I’ll do you one better,” said Haak. “My house is less than five minutes away from your property, so I’ll get there first.”

  Wyatt ended the call and placed another. Marcus Jones answered. “Hello?”

  Not wasting any time on pleasantries, Wyatt began, “Darcy Owens is the killer and she’s kidnapped Everly. I think she’s taken her to the old schoolhouse.”

  For his part, Marcus asked few questions while Wyatt briefed him as he drove.

  “The sheriff should be there soon. I’ll call you once I hear something, but it’s going to take all of us if we’re going to catch Darcy Owens.”

  “I’ll round up the team from RMJ and we’ll have your back ASAP.” He hesitated. “Good luck, Wyatt.”

  “Thanks,” said Wyatt. “But I don’t need luck. For me, this is personal.”

  * * *

  Everly’s head was throbbing. She swallowed, but her throat was tight, as if a weight pressed down on her neck. Her eyes burned, yet she pried her lids open. A bright light shone in her face. With a curse, she screwed her eyes shut again. She tried to rub her neck, but her hands didn’t—or more accurately, couldn’t—move.

  Suddenly awake, Everly remembered finding Axl’s camera at Darcy’s house. And then, the fight to escape—a fight Everly had lost. She pulled at her arms again. They were pinned behind her back and her wrists were bound. Fighting the pain in her head, she studied her surroundings. In an instant, Everly knew exactly where she was—in the old schoolhouse on Wyatt’s property.

  A thick rope was wound around her neck, tightening each time she drew a breath.

  “Careful...” A woman’s voice came from the shadows. “You are perched on top of a wobbly stool, and you’ve got a noose around your neck. A very precarious place. If you struggle too much, if you try to get down, if you budge that stool at all, you’ll end up hanged.”

  Darcy stepped into the light. A trickle of blood had dried on her cheek. Her bottom lip was swollen and split. The white of one eye had turned bright red.

  Everly grew cold as she listened to Darcy. Her knees shook and the stool beneath her began to sway. The rope tightened further, cutting off all her breath. Everly’s hands and feet went numb. Her heart raced as panic began to claim her.

  No. She couldn’t lose it. Not now.

  Everly forced herself to stand still and focus on one thing: survival. She held her breath as the stool gradually steadied and she slowly exhaled. “What have you done?”

  “Me?” Darcy placed a hand on her chest. “What have I done? The question you should be asking is what have you done? Why are you here?”

  Everly swallowed. The stool teetered, tightening the rope. “Okay. Why am I here?”

  “First, it’s because you are really stupid. You can’t take a clue, can you?”

  Everly didn’t think Darcy expected an answer, and she didn’t give one.

  “I could have killed you twice. First, at the hotel while you explored your brother’s room. Then the other night at Wyatt’s house. I didn’t, because I don’t kill women. You aren’t the problem. Still, if you slip from this stool and die, well, it’s your own fault, isn’t it?”

  Everly’s eyes burned with angry tears. Darcy had constructed the perfect trap and there was no way Everly could escape, much less survive. No matter what scenario she turned over in her mind, she just couldn’t figure a way out of this. Her only hope was to connect with Darcy, maybe talk to her—woman-to-woman. “Cut me loose, Darcy. We both know you really don’t want to see anything happen to me. Like you said, you could have killed me before, but you didn’t.”

  “Don’t presume to know what’s in my heart,” said Darcy. Her lips twisted into a snarl and spittle flew from her mouth. Rushing to Everly’s side, she knocked over the stool.

  For a moment, Everly hung in the air. Then all her weight was on her neck. Her throat collapsed. Her eyes bulged. Her legs thrashed. She couldn’t breathe. Her heart felt as if it would explode in her chest.

  “You should have left when you had the chance,” said Darcy. “You had your killer—Larry, that idiot—and you and Wyatt would have lived the rest of your days thinking that you’d solved the crime of the century. But no.” Darcy retrieved the stool and slid it under Everly’s feet. She loosened the noose just a little. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?”

  Everly settled her tiptoes on the stool and drew in deep breaths. “Why kill me? You said that I wasn’t the problem.”

  “Not at first,” said Darcy. “Did you know that when Wyoming was a territory, thievery was a capital offense? When this building was used, a person could be hanged for stealing something of value.”

  The question made no sense. Obviously, Darcy had a point to make. What Everly needed was a way to escape. Her only plan—her only option—was to play along. “I didn’t know that.”

  “I think it’s a just punishment. Don’t you?”

  “No,” said Everly. She had to fight to keep her voice steady. “I don’t. Property isn’t the same as a life.”

  “A thief denies a person of their possessions. They take from someone what’s rightfully theirs.”

  “I haven’t taken anything from you,” said Everly.

  “Haven’t you?”

  “The camera? That belonged to my brother. Why did he have to die? What did he steal from you?”

  “Him,” Darcy growled. “You stole him from me.”

  “Axl? I didn’t take my brother from you,” Everly said. Even as she spoke, Everly knew her guess was wrong.

  “Your brother?” Darcy snorted. “He was nothing to me, only a means to an end. You stole Wyatt Th
ornton. And now, you have to pay for your crime.”

  * * *

  Carl Haak dropped his foot onto the accelerator. The truck shot forward, pressing him back into the seat. The tires kicked up gravel as he raced down the dirt road to the old schoolhouse. His siren’s scream filled the silent morning and his lights cast shadows of red and blue across the landscape.

  Over forty years of law-enforcement experience had taught Carl a thing or two. The number one lesson was that sometimes a big show of force—lights, sirens, guns—ended many violent situations peaceably.

  He pulled up next to the schoolhouse. A small, gray sedan was parked nearby, and he immediately recognized it as belonging to Darcy Owens.

  She was there and if Wyatt’s report was right...so was Everly. His heartbeat spiked and sweat began to drip from his brow. He didn’t have time to think of a plan. Slamming on the breaks, the sheriff skidded to a stop next to Darcy’s car. He turned off the ignition and pocketed the keys before opening the door. While jumping down, he drew his sidearm and held it at the ready.

  Carl’s breath came in short, ragged gasps and he rushed toward the little building. He pressed his back to the wall and glanced into the single room. He withdrew just as quickly and tried to make sense of what he’d seen.

  Everly Baker had been hanging by her neck. A rope was tied to a thick, wooden beam in the ceiling. Was he too late? No. She stood on a stool. Her eyes had been opened wide. What else had been in the room? Or rather, had he caught a glimpse of Darcy Owens?

  Sheriff Haak exhaled. Aside from Everly, the room had been empty. No doubt, Darcy Owens had heard his approach and fled the scene. Gun drawn, he stepped into the old schoolhouse.

  “Sheriff,” said Everly. Her voice was raspy. “Be careful.”

  He ignored her warning. Holstering his gun, Carl rushed to Everly’s side. The noose was growing tight around her neck as she grew agitated, and she stood on a stool that wobbled, one leg shorter than the others.

  Carl circled Everly and stopped at her back. “Your hands are tied together,” he said. “Let me at least get you loose.” He didn’t bother to add that with free hands she could grab the rope and save herself from strangulation if things went from bad to worse. After removing a utility knife from his pants pocket, he sliced into the rope.

  The stool wobbled with each swipe of the blade.

  Everly screamed in pain as the noose tightened, digging deeper into her neck. Carl grabbed her legs, supporting her weight and keeping her still. The stool remained steady and he released Everly’s legs. Sweat dripped down Carl’s back and his pulse pounded. “I got to get you down from there somehow, but this isn’t working.”

  “Darcy heard your truck approaching and left. She might be watching us even now. You need to leave me here,” she said, “and go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” said Carl. “Not until I get you down and take you with me.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. There was nothing—and no one—in the room. “I have a ladder in my truck. Once we get you on something solid, I can get that rope from your neck. Hold tight and I’ll be right back.”

  He turned for the door, stopping to peer outside. Aside from his truck and Darcy’s car, there was nothing beyond mountains and blue sky.

  He knew that Everly was right about Darcy—she couldn’t have gotten far, not without her own car at least. Wily as she was, Carl figured that Darcy was a smart woman and wouldn’t risk a standoff with an armed man. Still, Carl kept low as he ran to his truck. He jerked open the door and reached behind the driver’s seat. He grasped the folding ladder he had stored there and pulled it from his truck. Not bothering to shut the door, Carl turned back to the old schoolhouse.

  Carl kept low and moved at a brisk pace. He crossed the threshold and held up the folding ladder. “I got it,” he said. “You’ll be down in a jiff.”

  Everly’s expression changed from wide-eyed worry to white-faced horror. She opened her mouth, but there was no sound.

  Carl heard a sharp crack, like the snap of a whip. The sound was followed by a whiff of cordite carried on the breeze. A hot pain shot through his bicep. Carl’s arm went numb and the little ladder slipped from his grasp, tumbling to the hard ground with a clatter. Carl’s gaze moved to his hand. Blood dripped from his fingertips. The front of his shirt was wet and sticky. A black stain spread across his chest.

  There was another pop. Another whiff of cordite and pain hit him again from behind, striking his shoulder and spinning him around.

  Darcy held the shotgun Carl had left in his truck. She pulled back on the stock, chambering another round. A blaze erupted from the barrel and Carl was knocked backward by the force of the slug. He fell, and as the ground rushed up to meet him, he could only think that he’d set his retirement date two weeks too late.

  Chapter 15

  Wyatt stopped his truck half a mile from the old schoolhouse. He didn’t know what he’d find and needed more intel before rushing ahead. Peering through a set of binoculars, he surveyed the scene. From his vantage point, Wyatt couldn’t see the front door, only the back wall and a corner. Yet, Sheriff Haak’s truck and a gray sedan—most likely belonging to Darcy—were visible from where he stood.

  He pulled out his phone and placed a call.

  “Marcus,” he said. “I’m here. Where are you?”

  “We’re on our way. Less than ten minutes out. Do you have Everly? Or Darcy?”

  “Not yet, but I know where they are.” He then gave a brief description of what he’d seen. “I’m going in on foot, but I’m going to need cleanup.”

  “Don’t you mean backup?”

  “I’m not waiting another second to save Everly,” he said and ended the call. Wyatt pocketed the phone and returned to his truck. Removing his AR-15 from the rack, he loaded a clip of twenty-eight bullets.

  If Darcy was nearby—and he assumed that she was—he needed the element of surprise. Still, he wanted to make good time and veered from the road, using the surrounding brush as cover. He’d gone less than a hundred yards when he heard it and drew up short.

  A gunshot. Once. Twice.

  No. Three bullets had been fired in quick succession.

  His heart ceased to beat as a vision of Everly’s lifeless body came to mind. Once he’d gone down that dark road in his imagination, he could conceive of nothing else. He had to get to her, to save her, to protect her. To convince Everly that he did want to be with her, whether that meant here in Wyoming or joining her back in Chicago. Nothing mattered more than being by her side.

  But first, he had to keep her alive.

  The hell with being sneaky—Wyatt held tight to the assault rifle and sprinted toward the old schoolhouse. He rounded the building as Darcy Owens came out of the front door.

  For a moment, they only stared at each other, neither of them daring to move or speak.

  “You’re too late,” said Darcy. She held a shotgun, the barrel pointed down.

  “Drop the gun,” he said.

  “I’d never hurt you,” she said, placing the gun on the ground. Standing, she said, “They’re both dead—the sheriff and your girlfriend. I shot him and hanged her. You can shoot me, too. But it won’t bring them back—any of them.”

  He’d heard the gunfire. Why shouldn’t he believe Darcy? A burning rage filled Wyatt’s chest. Leveling the assault rifle at Darcy, he asked, “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you now?”

  “Because I did this for you,” she said. “I killed them all for you.”

  Of all the things that Wyatt expected to hear, that wasn’t it. The complete nonsensicalness of her statement stole his breath and left him nauseated.

  “This has nothing to do with me.”

  “Oh, really?” She laughed. “Let me ask you this, Wyatt? Does anything make you feel more alive than hunting a killer? I gave all of that to you. The adrenali
ne. The danger. The focus. Admit it—it’s better than sex.”

  “I’m not admitting anything to you, Darcy.”

  “Aren’t you proud of me? Don’t you think I was clever for fooling them all for so long?”

  “I think you’re sick,” he said. “You’ve hurt a lot of people. You need to be in prison.”

  A look of hurt crossed Darcy’s face, only to be quickly replaced by a placid expression. “You don’t mean that. I know you.”

  “I don’t know you. You definitely don’t know me.”

  “Oh, don’t I?”

  It was a taunt, nothing more—and yet, Wyatt couldn’t help but feel a disturbing stab of accuracy to her statement. She had found him, after all. More than that, she knew exactly how to orchestrate her killings to get him involved in the investigation. He hated to think that Darcy had studied him with the same vigor he’d used to analyze her.

  She spoke again. “I watched you in Las Vegas and even knew when you’d arrested the wrong man. I gave you the tip exonerating him. I knew you’d let him go. But you didn’t. That was a mistake. I wasn’t going to let a man take credit for all my hard work. So, I went to the newspaper instead.”

  “But why’d you do it, Darcy? Why’d you kill all those people? The victims, those men, were innocent.”

  “Innocent?” She laughed. “They were dirty. They wanted to make me dirty. I had to clean up the filth.”

  “Dirty, how? What did they do to you?”

  “Smiled. Talked. Touched me. They wanted me to touch them, too. You never, never touch a man. You can never, never want his touch. If you do, the hand has to be made lifeless.”

  Obviously, this was the missing piece. Darcy had been attracted to her victims and for her, a sexual attraction was akin to a sin so black that death was the only remedy.

  “What about Larry Walker? You lived with him in Las Vegas. You followed him to Pleasant Pines.”

  “Me? Follow him? Wyatt, I took you for a smarter man. I’d never follow the likes of Larry Walker anywhere. He followed me. He never wanted to come to Pleasant Pines. I don’t blame him, either. It’s too claustrophobic here. But I heard that you’d moved to Wyoming and I knew that you needed me, so I came.”