The local agent, Devon Truman, received a call and turned away briefly. After a few seconds, he turned back and raised a hand. “Sheriff says they picked up a group of women and children exiting the compound. He wants to know what to do with them?”
“Where’s the nearest church hall?” Charlotte asked quickly. This was good news.
“Probably Eagle Creek,” Truman responded.
McKenzie nodded sharply. “Arrange beds and food for them there. I want them made comfortable, but I also want them photographed—quietly—and backgrounds run. I want to know who they are and what they know.”
Charlotte raised her hand. “I could go talk to them.”
“No, you can’t,” Novak muttered under his breath so only she could hear, “because I don’t have time for that shit.”
Charlotte pulled a face, but McKenzie was unrelenting. He turned to Truman. “Take another agent with you and question everyone there. Be nice and gather as much information as possible. Provide and encourage counselors, especially to the minors in the group. They probably consider us Beelzebub personified, so let’s dispel that notion. Does the local sheriff’s office have a community liaison officer?”
“I don’t know,” Truman admitted tiredly.
“Find out. If not, bring a local deputy along to try and get a feel for these people. A woman, if possible. In the morning, go talk to local shopkeepers. The information we need is out there, we need to track it down.”
“Can we cross ‘holding hostages’ off the list?” Charlotte asked McKenzie.
McKenzie shook his head, his gaze unflinching. “I agree we can lower the risk of that being the case, but until we account for everyone, then no, we can’t cross it off the list. Let’s get to it, people. Back here at eight AM for the next briefing.”
McKenzie sprang to his feet and headed out of the room.
Charlotte stared over at Novak, but he had already turned his back on her and was leaning over the map.
“What do you want us to do, Char?” Eban asked.
“Get hold of whoever is in control of that compound. We need to talk sense into them before this whole thing blows up and more people get hurt.”
* * *
Novak checked his watch. One AM. First teams were in place, but it had taken way longer than anticipated. They’d also developed their Immediate Action Plan should the situation dramatically head south.
“Why don’t we ride horses up there as far as this point here?” This from Cowboy who’d grown up on a ranch in Montana—hence the nickname.
“We’re not all comfortable on horseback, especially in the dark,” grumbled Cowboy’s partner.
“You just have to sit in the saddle and not fall off. We’re not going to travel at speed, but it’ll still be a lot faster than traveling on foot. Beats walking.”
Cowboy was right. Riding on horseback was faster than hiking up the mountain and quieter than ATVs.
“It’s a good idea,” Novak conceded. “Talk to the people who own the ranch. If anyone falls off and injures themselves, I’ll blame you.” He pointed at Cowboy. The guy grinned.
“Now that’s arranged, it’s my turn to check in with the negotiators,” Charlotte piped up cheerfully from behind him.
Novak stiffened. He’d forgotten she was there. “I’ve barely gotten started here,” he said with frustration.
“And I haven’t gotten started at all. It’s my turn, Novak.”
Novak blew out a loud breath. She was right, but he didn’t have to like it. “You guys all good to go?” The men nodded. They were already geared up or resting while they had the chance.
“You need a bed, Novak?” Angeletti, his second in command and best friend on HRT, asked. “There’s one last empty bunk in my room.”
“I’m good.”
Angeletti’s brows rose in question.
“He’s sharing with me,” Charlotte said with a sweet smile. “Courtesy of the IC.”
“Seriously?” Angeletti didn’t look like he believed Charlotte, which made Novak grind his teeth. He should be here with his men, not hanging with management.
“Don’t worry.” Charlotte smiled. “I don’t bite.”
“More’s the pity.” Cowboy flashed her a smile that Novak knew had seduced more than his fair share of women.
“Enough,” Novak said sharply. He wouldn’t feed gossip or innuendo. This was work. Nothing more or less. His bark had nothing to do with the unusual flash of jealousy that went through him when prim and proper Charlotte Blood smiled back at one of his team members.
“Time to go,” Charlotte insisted like a terrier who wouldn’t let go of a bone.
Novak exchanged a look with Angeletti, one that said what the fuck? But Charlotte was right, she’d been patient, and it wasn’t her fault they had to do this dumb joined-at-the-hip thing—although she had been the one to complain about him to McKenzie, so maybe it was her fault.
Dammit, he could think of a million better joined-at-the-hip options, and every one of them was inappropriate for a work situation.
“Call me with any updates.” Novak helped himself to a radio and an earpiece because, while he might not be physically in this room, he didn’t want to miss out on any action. He followed Charlotte out of the barn, moving slightly in front of her to cut out the icy blast of the wind as she still didn’t have a jacket, and he’d forgotten to borrow anything for her.
He held open the door of the Negotiation Center and saw McKenzie on a video call to a profiler from the Behavioral Analysis Unit. McKenzie glanced at them as they entered then went back to his meeting.
Novak followed Charlotte over to where Dominic and Eban manned the post.
“CNU is arranging for two additional negotiators out of Seattle and Salt Lake City to arrive by noon tomorrow,” Dominic told Charlotte quietly, obviously aware the IC was in conversation a few feet away. “We’ve been trying the Harrisons’ landline constantly, but no one has answered yet. We don’t even know if it is plugged in.”
Eban Winters nodded to them both then ignored them. He was wearing a headset and had a notepad in front of him. High tech recording equipment was set up ready to go as soon as required.
“Anything from Truman regarding the people who left the compound?” Charlotte asked.
Dominic shook his head. “But McKenzie might have heard something.”
McKenzie was busy.
Charlotte pulled out her cell and started dialing. “Agent Truman? Can you talk?”
She sat down and started twirling her hair as she spoke to the local agent. Novak pulled up a chair, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest, watching her. What the fuck was he doing wasting his time here?
“Can you send us the list of names? I’d like to get people tracing them ASAP.” Charlotte’s tone with Truman was sugary sweet. The way she spoke to everyone who wasn’t him. Go figure.
She hung up. “According to the people Truman interviewed, they don’t know exactly what happened yesterday morning, but the general conjecture was a young man, name of TJ Harrison, came running back to the compound with Federal Wildlife Officer Bob Jones in hot pursuit. They said the FWO shot at TJ, and someone guarding the door returned fire. No one was naming names as to who that shooter was. They said they then defended themselves when the sheriff arrived, guns blazing.”
“How come the women and children left?” Novak asked.
“Tom Harrison, leader of the group and owner of the land, gave anyone who wanted to leave the chance, and eight people took it. Two women with six kids under ten.” Charlotte pushed her hair behind her ear and suddenly looked exhausted. “Truman’s gathering a list of names of people inside from the women, but he’s not sure how accurate it’s going to be or how truthful these women are. They are waiting for relatives to come pick them up. He hasn’t told them that they can’t leave quite yet. Not until we say so, anyway.”
“Bob Jones woke up again,” McKenzie shouted over his shoulder. “Told the agent by his bedside
he saw TJ Harrison strangling the dead girl and, when confronted, TJ ran.”
“What was Jones doing up there?” asked Charlotte.
“He received a report of a cougar stalking someone on the trail. He was checking it out.”
Novak got on his radio and updated the sniper teams on a possible cougar in the area. Not that it was exactly news given the location. Cougar, bears, wolves were all possible. Although hopefully Bigfoot was holed up for winter.
The danger posed by the terrain, weather, and wildlife was equal to the danger from the armed men in the compound and getting more dangerous as winter approached. No one wanted to take any chances.
“What do we know about the dead girl?” Charlotte asked the boss.
McKenzie checked his watch. “Virtually nothing. ME isn’t planning to start the postmortem until nine AM and we haven’t been able to identify her yet. AFIS came back with nothing on her fingerprints. Her DNA isn’t in CODIS. Scene is contained as much as is possible but contaminated as hell.”
Charlotte tried to cover a yawn.
“You two should catch a couple hours’ rest.”
Novak opened his mouth to suggest he head back to the barn and help HRT gear up.
McKenzie caught his gaze before the words left his mouth. “Both of you. I’m here to respond to any issues. If anything changes before the briefing, I will let you know. Get some sleep. That’s an order.”
Chapter Eight
Charlotte stomped up the steps to the main ranch house. “I’m not a two-year-old. I don’t need to be told when to sleep.”
“He has a point,” Novak argued from behind her. “After today, it’s only gonna get busier.”
“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes, though the former Special Forces soldier couldn’t see as she walked into the house via the mud room.
She headed to the washing machine and tossed their wet gear in the dryer. Novak waited for her near the doorway. This shadowing one another nonsense was starting to get old. She liked her own space.
“Did you sleep on the plane?” He leaned against the doorjamb as she set the timer.
“No.” Those aircraft were noisier than a fairground ride. She headed up the back stairs to their room, once again leading the way, hyperaware of the guy following her.
“Did you?” She lowered her voice as other people were already trying to sleep. Dammit. This probably was a good idea. McKenzie could rest tomorrow when she and Novak were awake.
“No,” he said, barely above a whisper. “But I train regularly on little or no sleep.”
He spoke as if he were talking to some civilian who worked nine to five.
She thought about the endless barricade and hostage situations she’d been called to. The untold hours of patience and common sense required to talk people out of impossible situations when the only escape they could envision was violence and death. By the end, she was showing them the light. Yes, they had to deal with the consequences of their actions, and things became a lot more problematic when people had been hurt. But it was her job to concentrate on extricating them from the incident and enabling them to move on with their lives.
She drew in a long deep breath and forced herself to let go of the irritation. She needed to think of her relationship with Novak as some long-term hostage situation in which they were both trapped and needed to figure out a way to work together to gain their freedom.
Inside their room, she grabbed her toothbrush while he simply climbed the ladder and fell fully clothed onto the sheets. It was chilly in the room.
“Are you going to be warm enough?” she asked. “I can find more blankets if you’re cold.”
“You don’t need to mother me, Charlotte. I’m not one of your boys.”
His tone grated on her nerves.
“I don’t ‘mother’ people any more than you do,” she said pointedly.
He grunted, apparently admitting she had a point. They both liked to look after their people.
She turned off the light and then went across the hall to the bathroom, brushing her teeth and smoothing on some moisturizer before returning to the lower bunk. She sat on the thin mattress, toed off her sneakers, and decided to pull on a sleep shirt but leave on her leggings and socks in case she needed to move fast.
She tossed her shirt and sweater on the back of the nearby chair. Pulled on the nightshirt and then took off her bra, throwing it with her other stuff. Then she lay staring up at the unfinished planks, wondering how she’d ever get to sleep when there was so much going on in her brain and so much she needed to do.
She turned over and sighed. Like half of the American population, she’d been traveling the weekend before, spending Thanksgiving with her mother and stepfather and half siblings in Miami. Back at work Monday morning. Then the negotiators at CNU had gone on an impromptu night out to celebrate the fact that Dominic had proposed to Ava at his father’s mansion over the weekend, and the rookie agent had actually said yes. Charlotte couldn’t be happier for the pair, although she’d have been lying if she said she hadn’t experienced a small amount of envy, not so much over the engagement as finding the right person to love.
She pictured her perfect life. A handsome and attentive husband who possibly at this moment resembled Special Agent Devon Truman. A nice house in the ’burbs with a flower garden and vegetables, and possibly even a real picket fence. Instead she had a lonely apartment and occasional dog-sitting duties for Dominic.
Why did it have to be so damn hard?
She yawned. Tuesday had been spent at work but slightly hungover, and Wednesday had started with a bang as this situation unfolded.
Someone walked down the corridor outside their room, and she braced herself for a knock on the door. Instead the person went into the bathroom. She released a breath.
“You have earplugs?” The wooden frame creaked ominously above her as Novak peered over the edge.
She’d thought he was asleep. “Why? Do you snore?”
He laughed, and that sound jolted her. She didn’t think she’d heard him laugh in that soft, genuine way before. He was too hard, too domineering to demonstrate much of a sense of humor. Or so she’d thought.
“They’ll help block out the ambient noise. Allow you to sleep a little better.”
“Do you use earplugs?” she asked.
“All the damn time.”
She had some in her toiletries bag. “What if I sleep in? Miss the meeting?”
“Joined at the hip, remember? I won’t leave you behind,” Novak said quietly.
“Promise?”
“I already did.”
She snorted. Novak was very much a “my word is my bond” sort of guy. Rough around the edges. Gruff. Uncommunicative.
Did she believe him?
For some reason she did.
She slid out of bed and found the small, plastic case, then slid the plugs into her ears and lay back down. A sense of fatigue swept over her, bones suddenly weighted and heavy. Her eyelids closed despite herself.
She checked her watch one last time, and finally allowed herself to drift off to sleep regardless of the strange man doing the same thing only a few feet away.
* * *
As tempting as it was to sneak out early, Novak had reluctantly held onto his patience and let Charlotte get a little more rest. He’d woken an hour ago, showered and dressed. Collected their laundry from the dryer and folded it into two neat piles, pretending he wasn’t handling her freaking panties. Charlotte Blood was still out for the count. From her pale skin and REM movements beneath her eyelids, she needed another half hour but, unfortunately, she wasn’t going to get it. He couldn’t wait any longer.
“Hey, Charlotte. Time to wake up.”
Nothing.
He leaned over and touched her shoulder. “Hey, SSA Blood. Rise and Shine.”
He found himself flat on his back with her elbow jammed in his windpipe as she bent his arm to an angle that would pop the joint if he tried to move it.
I
t took her a full second to blink awake, and another to realize where she was and who she was with, and what she was doing to him. She reared back. Dragged her hands over her face. “God. Sorry.”
“What the hell?” Novak lifted himself up and caught her arm, but she jerked away. “Is that how you always wake up?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She checked her watch and swore. “Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”
“You looked like you needed your rest.”
She glared at him, blue eyes still clouded with sleep and anger. Great. So much for trying to look out for her. “Not your choice to make.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “This morning it was.”
She grabbed her bra off the chair and somehow managed to put it on without taking off her nightshirt. Her nightshirt had two W’s on it.
“Turn around,” she ordered.
He did as she asked. “You changed the subject and tried to deflect me with anger. Why did you attack me when I woke you up?”
She let out a weary sigh. “It’s nothing.”
He wasn’t about to let it drop. “That how you treat the other negotiators when you bunk together?”
“Of course not.” Her words were muffled by the shirt she was pulling over her head.
Of course not. But something about him triggered a reaction.
“Damn, I don’t have time to shower. I’m going to smell like a goat by the end of the day.”
He caught the scent of her deodorant as she applied it under her shirt. “You smell fine.”
Shit, where the hell had that come from? But he liked her scent—like limes—and she better not figure that the fuck out. “We’re working in a barn, so you’ll fit right in,” he added.
There went his natural charm again.
She snorted out a laugh.
Cold Wicked Lies Page 7