Agent’s Mountain Rescue

by Jennifer D. Bokal

“There’s nothing in Darcy’s case file to indicate that she had an accomplice. So, I’m not sure why you’d assume she had help,” said Wyatt.

  “All I do know is that with a wound like the one you described, she couldn’t survive without medical care, food and shelter.”

  Wyatt leaned forward. Maybe Liam had been wrong, and the strait-laced former FBI Agent wasn’t so bad after all. “What else do you know?”

  “I know that the terrain won’t allow for the passage of an automobile, even an all-terrain vehicle. It also means whoever helped her was on foot, or possibly horseback, but not likely.” Between finger and thumb, he measured out a distance that represented approximately three miles on the map. After grabbing a stray pen from the table, Liam slowly traced a circle. “Your killer is somewhere in this area,” said Liam.

  “That region’s already been searched,” said Marcus. “Even though it’s heavily wooded, nothing’s been found.”

  “Did they use FLIR?” Liam asked. Forward-looking infrared was commonly used on aircraft by military and law enforcement to find missing people. The technology had been perfected to find the heat signatures left by contacts.

  Marcus slid a manila file across the table. “A grid search was conducted more than once. It came back clean.”

  Flipping open the file, Liam scanned the pictures. The photos were only of colors and shapes. Blue. Green. Red and yellow for something alive. Wolves. Bears. Even animals as small as squirrels had been found. No humans—nothing even close.

  “The way I figure it,” said Liam, handing the folder back to Marcus, “Darcy has to be someplace close, because whoever helped had to carry her on foot. Even someone familiar with the area couldn’t make it more than three miles carrying a body—roughly one hundred and forty pounds of dead weight. That means one thing—if Darcy Owens is alive, then she’s around here, somewhere.” He pointed again to the map.

  Wyatt was the first to speak, his words dripping with sarcasm. “You really think that we’ll find a serial killer that easily.”

  “I’ve done this before,” said Liam. “Besides, didn’t you bring me on board to find this person? If you don’t want to listen to my advice, why am I here?”

  Marcus said, “We can try and search the area again. It certainly couldn’t hurt to have a fresh set of eyes looking at the terrain. I’ll assign two operatives to go with you.”

  “If Darcy Owens is out there,” said Liam, “she’s as good as found.”

  * * *

  The door to Holly’s class opened. She looked up. For some insane reason, she hoped that Liam Alexander had returned. Sure, he’d been distracted and tense. At the same time, Holly felt as if she’d glimpsed something more to the man than his rough manners suggested.

  Instead, Thomas Irwin, manager of Pleasant Pines Savings and Loan, stood on the threshold. His children were students at Saplings, but he rarely took time to speak with Holly.

  Swallowing down a kernel of disappointment, Holly said, “Hi, Thomas, what can I do for you today?”

  “Do you have a minute?” he asked. “Can we talk in the hallway?”

  Holly glanced around her room. It was free time and all the children were engaged in activities. The assistant teacher sat on the floor, helping a group of students build a tower with blocks. “Sure,” she said, and followed him to the corridor.

  Thomas wore a gray pinstripe suit, white shirt and yellow tie. His dark hair was slicked back from his forehead. Brushing a piece of lint from his pants, he said, “I hate to bother you with this at school, Holly. There’s a problem with the loan.”

  Her insides turned icy. “Which one? The main mortgage or the business equity loan?”

  “It’s the financials in general, I guess.”

  “I know I’ve gotten a little behind on the payments and I appreciate your understanding—”

  Thomas lifted a hand, stopping Holly. “That’s just it—I can’t be understanding. Not anymore.” His gaze dropped to the floor.

  Holly’s hands began to tremble. She tucked them under her arms. “I can see that this is difficult for you—Say what needs to be said.”

  “The bank is calling in the loan. By the end of this week, they’ll own the day-care center.”

  “Isn’t there anything I can do?”

  “Not unless you can come up with the twenty thousand dollars ASAP,” said Thomas.

  The sum knocked all the air from Holly’s lungs. She staggered backward. “Can I refinance again? You know I needed that second loan because we had to replace the roof. Besides, what would the bank do with a day-care center?”

  Thomas exhaled. “That’s the other thing. The bank received an offer to buy the day-care center from Alphabet Soup. It’s a chain of schools run out of the Dallas area.”

  Holly began to sweat. Her ears buzzed. “Dallas? As in Texas?”

  Thomas continued to talk. “They have schools all over the country with a standardized curriculum. They’re looking to take over Saplings, I suppose. And this is good news for you, too. The sale will pay off everything you owe the bank.”

  “You can’t do this,” said Holly. “What about the children? Or the town? Everyone relies on Saplings to provide a warm and nurturing environment.”

  “Pleasant Pines will still have a day-care center,” said Thomas. “There will be no disruption in the children’s education.” He hesitated. “You just won’t be running it anymore.”

  A fire of indignation began to burn in Holly’s middle. All her plans for Saplings were going up in flames. Shoot, her life had just been scorched, leaving nothing beyond dust and ash blowing in the wind.

  “No,” said Holly. “You can’t do this.”

  “Holly, your dad was my track coach and my favorite teacher. And I remember when you were little, and you’d come to all our meets. Trust me, if there was any other way for you to get out of this mess, I’d find it.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Holly asked.

  “Face it. This school has left you in debt since the beginning.” Thomas’s cheeks reddened, the blush traveling all the way up to his forehead.

  True, Holly had been struggling with cash flow since she’d opened the school. “What if I could get you the money?”

  “All of it? All twenty thousand?”

  Holly’s shoulders slumped as a plan began to form. Hadn’t her agent said he could sell whatever book she would write next? Even though that was several years ago, the offer had been more than what she needed now.

  “I need to make some calls,” said Holly. More than contacting her agent, she’d need to think of a new book idea to pitch. That’d take some time, a luxury she didn’t have. “Give me some time to see what kind of money I can find.” Holly bit her bottom lip and tried to think of how long it might take to pull together that kind of cash. “A month?”

  Thomas shook his head. “I can’t do that. The people from Texas want to close the deal by the end of the week. If you want to keep Saplings, I’d need assurances from you soon.”

  Rolling back her shoulders, Holly said, “What about this evening?”

  “Can you stop by the bank before it closes this afternoon at four?”

  “You know I can’t do that. The school is open until six.”

  Thomas sighed. “Look. I’ll make you a deal. Meet me tonight at six at Sally’s on Main. My wife and I always take the kids out for dinner on Monday. You can let me know what you’ve come up with and I’ll work with you if I can.”

  “Thank you,” said Holly, as relief washed over her. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Don’t be late,” Thomas admonished as he exited.

  Holly was never late, but this was definitely one meeting she wouldn’t miss.

  With her head swimming, Holly returned to her room and surveyed her class. A dozen bright and happy children were making flowers f
rom tissue paper, muffin liners and pipe cleaners.

  Her throat burned with frustration. She couldn’t believe that her entire life would be decided in a matter of hours. Until then, she had a job to do and children who needed her attention. One of those children, Sophie Alexander, sat at the table and was creating a pipe-cleaner stem for a blue paper flower.

  Kneeling at the child’s side, Holly said, “That’s very pretty.”

  Sophie, intent on her work, didn’t look up. “It’s for my daddy.”

  Her father, Liam Alexander. Holly felt a tightening in her middle...and it wasn’t wholly unpleasant.

  “I’m sure that your daddy will love the flowers.” Holly was curious about the mother, who wasn’t listed on the school’s enrollment form, even as an emergency contact. “Would you like to make a bouquet for anyone else?”

  “My mommy,” said the little girl. “But she’s far away. That’s why I live with Daddy.”

  Holly picked up a muffin liner and marker. Tracing the paper pleats, she asked, “Where’d your mommy go?”

  “She works on a big ship and her job is to keep us all safe.”

  Understanding crept through Holly. “Is your mommy in the navy?”

  Sophie looked up from her artwork. “Yes.”

  From the beginning, she had assumed that Liam was a single father. While he might not have a partner in his life at the moment, he could be far from available. She knew she shouldn’t be interested in his personal life, never mind his love life, yet she was.

  So when Holly asked, “Did you live with your mommy and daddy before your mommy left?” she knew full well that she wasn’t asking from an educational standpoint.

  “No,” said Sophie. “I used to live with Mommy. I miss her, but I talk to her on the computer. Daddy helps me call.”

  “It’s nice to keep in touch.”

  Sophie nodded. “It is, but I miss her.”

  Holly stroked the child’s downy head. She could well imagine the little girl’s sadness and understood her loneliness. “I bet,” she said.

  “Sometimes I miss my mommy so much I want to cry.” She looked at Holly. “But Daddy says even though she’s far away, Mommy loves me and misses me, too. Do you think so, Dr. Holly?”

  Emotion lodged in her throat. “Yes,” she said. “I do.”

  Sophie turned back to her project. “Then I’m gonna make more flowers for Mommy and give them to her when she comes home.”

  It had been a long time since Holly had been forced to confront her longing for children. She’d spent a lot of time compartmentalizing her feelings, doing the opposite of what a good psychologist ought to do, she supposed. But it was easier than dealing with questions from well-meaning people about her lack of relationships or family. Questions she’d heard so much, in fact, that she had a ready answer—my career is important. It wouldn’t be fair to my family for me to be so focused. Blah, blah, blah. The truth was much more complicated. A car accident in high school had changed Holly’s life. It was a stupid mistake; the driver had been going too fast and nobody in the car had enough sense to tell him to slow down. The crash left her in the hospital for months, forcing her to miss the end of her sophomore year. It also crushed her pelvis and ruptured several organs. The incident didn’t leave her sterile, but the doctors discouraged her from ever bearing a child, as it could be dangerous to both Holly and the baby.

  It was a warning she heeded.

  It was also why, even now, Holly avoided any long-term relationships. And, if she was honest with herself, it was the exact reason that Holly had always wanted to work with children, and why she’d opened her school after returning to Pleasant Pines.

  “Sophie Alexander, you are one smart cookie,” said Holly, giving the little girl’s nose a tweak.

  “Cookies? I love cookies.”

  “I’m glad you’re in my class, Sophie,” said Holly as she stood.

  “Me, too,” said Sophie, with a wide smile.

  Holly patted the child’s head, then turned, ready to engage with another student who also sat at the table.

  “Dr. Holly?” Sophie called.

  Looking back at Sophie, she said, “Yes?”

  “You don’t have to be worried about my daddy. He’s just not used to taking care of me.”

  For Sophie’s sake, Holly hoped that the child was right.

  * * *

  Sweat covered Darcy’s brow. The wooden planks of the bunker floor were slick with blood. A trapdoor, set into the ceiling, was flung wide open, letting in light and fresh air. She hefted up the ax once more and brought it down. Thwack.

  Free of the shoulder, Billy’s arm flopped to the side. Darcy could never hope to carry the whole body out of the pit. That meant she had to dispose of the corpse bit by bit. It was gruesome work.

  She might have succeeded in killing Billy, but she was still far from civilization. After hefting the arm from the floor, she climbed the rickety ladder. The sun burned her eyes, but she didn’t care. At least she was out of the hole. A rusting wheelbarrow she’d found under a tree, was now overflowing with the pieces of Billy’s butchered body. She dropped Billy’s arm on top of the pile and then, holding tight to the handles, began to walk, pulling the heavy wheelbarrow behind her.

  Darcy felt no pride for having taken Billy’s life. Killing the man had been about survival, plain and simple. How far had she come? Darcy figured it to be less than a quarter of a mile—yet, it was far enough. She tipped the wheelbarrow, and the contents tumbled to the ground. The head was the last to roll out. In death, Billy’s eyes were open, his expression one of shock. Using the toe of her shoe, Darcy flipped his face to the other side.

  Turning back to the bunker, memories flashed through her mind. The faces of her victims. The life seeping from their bodies...and that power transferring to her. Her flesh tingled with excitement. But then, another memory came, sending a chill down her spine. The stench of her father’s breath, hot on her neck as she lay there, powerless and alone. With her eyes closed tight, she’d taken refuge with the Darkness.

  Could she ever break free from her past?

  Maybe. If she wanted to stop killing.

  The question was...did she?

  Darcy returned to the blood-soaked bunker. Surveying the small space, she spotted a metal and plastic object under the bed. Bending low, she reached out to grab it...and froze, her eyes wide. It was a flip phone.

  Darcy scrambled across the floor. Gripping the phone, she lifted the faceplate. The screen illuminated and showed a strong signal, even underground. There was only one person she could contact. But should she dare?

  She stared at the keypad. Her thumb hovered over the first digit. Quickly, before she could overthink it, she dialed a number that long ago she had sworn never to never use.

  He answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

  “I need some help,” she said.

  “Who’s this?”

  “You know who it is.”

  He paused. “You’re all over the news,” he said. “And presumed dead.”

  “I’d like to keep it that way. Unless you really do want me to die—”

  “Don’t be stupid,” he interrupted.

  Despite the fact that she was in no position to make demands, her temper spiked. It left Darcy hot and shaking. “You owe me.”

  He sighed. “Fine. What do you need?”

  “A new identity. Maybe a job if you can swing it.”

  “I can help you with both. Give me some time. Call back in one hour and I’ll give you the details.” He continued, “I can’t keep helping—not after everything you’ve done. In fact, I’m just lucky that nobody has connected the two of us.”

  Darcy rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to tell me. I already know.”

  “Good,” he said. “And Darcy?”

  “Yes?”
/>   “After today, don’t ever call me again.”

  Carefully, she placed the phone on the cluttered shelf. The wound on her shoulder ached and burned, but that no longer bothered her. Because Darcy Owens had been presented with a second chance—and it was a chance that she refused to waste.

  Chapter 3

  Following the briefing at Rocky Mountain Justice’s headquarters, Liam was introduced to two other operatives, Luis Martinez and Julia McCloud. Luis was a former cop from Denver with a dark crewcut and an easy smile. He’d joined RMJ about a year ago, after helping the agency close another operation. Liam liked the man immediately. Julia was a former Army Ranger and had attended a session he’d taught years before at the mountain survival school, located at Fort Drum.

  Liam didn’t recall the blonde soldier, but then again, during his time with the Department of Interior, he’d taught hundreds if not thousands of people from all branches the military and it was impossible to remember them all. Despite the fact that Liam preferred to work alone, Julia and Martinez seemed like decent partners.

  Sitting in the passenger seat of a black SUV, Liam stared out the window. He recalled the last time he was in Wyoming and his throat tightened at the memory. He pushed all the recollections away and returned his attention to his new colleagues.

  Martinez drove, while discussing the finer points of the case. “When Darcy Owens first turned up as a suspect in these serial murders, it was in Las Vegas,” Martinez said. “Wyatt was the behavioral scientist assigned to the team investigating the case.”

  Julia, in the back seat, continued the story. “Things sort of went sideways when the wrong man was arrested and Wyatt’s career was ruined.”

  “The guy seems pretty uptight,” said Liam. “Maybe he was hard to work with and that’s why his career went south.”

  “Wyatt’s a good guy, but if it seems like he’s intense about finding Darcy, you’d be right. As it turns out, she became fixated on Wyatt and followed him to Wyoming, where she started killing again. Basically, she was targeting him, using the murders to lure him out. When she tried to kill the woman he loved, he was forced to choose between saving her life or letting Darcy escape.” He met Liam’s gaze. “What would you have done?”