Agent’s Mountain Rescue

by Jennifer D. Bokal

  “Really?” asked Marcus. “Where?”

  “She owns a day care right here.” He inhaled. “In Pleasant Pines.”

  * * *

  Holly sat on her sofa with her legs tucked beneath a blanket. She’d changed from her work attire into a pair of black leggings and a white sweater. The days were sunny and getting warmer, but once the sun set in Pleasant Pines, a chill filled the air.

  In Sophie’s bag, Holly had found several stuffed animals, along with a fuzzy pink blanket. The child lay on the floor, surrounded by her toys and covered with her favorite blanket. Through half-opened eyes, she gazed at a board book. Holly had set her music app to a lullaby channel and Für Elise played softly in the background.

  Holly’s phone sat on the coffee table. The screen illuminated at the same moment that it began to vibrate. A surge of excitement shot to her toes.

  Was it Liam?

  Holly checked the caller ID.

  It was her literary agent, Franklin. “Hey,” she said, swiping the call open. “It’s nice to speak to you twice in one day.”

  “Something interesting happened this afternoon, Holly. I received a job offer for you.”

  “A job offer?” she repeated, hardly believing what he’d said.

  “The University of Findlay is looking for a full-time faculty member to fill in for the rest of the semester. I mentioned your name to the department chairperson, and she was very excited. If hired, you’d be teaching developmental psychology—your specialty.”

  Back when the book was selling thousands of copies a week, the offers to teach at colleges and universities had been plentiful. But when the sales stopped, so had the offers.

  “I’ll be honest, I’m a little dubious that a school just so happened to call you on the day you learned I need a new job.”

  “Can’t an agent do a favor for one of his clients?”

  “I’ve never even heard of the University of Findlay. Where is it?” Then again, did it really matter? After Friday, she was out of a job.

  “Findlay is in Ohio, about forty miles from Toledo, and it happens to be my alma mater.”

  “When would they need someone to start?” she asked.

  “By the end of the month,” he said. That would give her several weeks. “The current professor has a heart condition and needs surgery. At the end of the year, he’s going to retire. Can I tell my contact that you’re interested in an interview, at least?”

  Holly had lived in New York City for several months after getting her doctorate. Yet Wyoming was her home. She owed the town of Pleasant Pines everything and she didn’t want to relocate. Then again, did she have a choice?

  “Sure, I’ll talk to the people at the University of Findlay.”

  “I’ll give Louise—she’s the chairperson of the psychology department and my cousin’s wife—your number. She said there are other candidates but seemed excited about having the opportunity to talk to you. I’m sure she’ll call you tomorrow—day after at the latest.”

  “Thank you, Franklin. Sincerely.”

  “You want to thank me? Write another book.”

  Holly couldn’t help but laugh at his urging. The sound of a car pulling into her drive was unmistakable. Sophie’s eyes were now wide open.

  “Is that Daddy?”

  To Franklin, Holly said, “Listen, I have to go. Someone just stopped by. And thanks again.”

  She ended the call at the same moment that her front doorbell chimed. Holly peeked out the window. There, bathed in the glow of the porch light, stood Liam. A dark shadow of beard covered his cheeks and chin. His shoulders were broad, and his legs were long and muscular. While studying him from a distance, Holly realized that Liam was more than handsome. He was her idea of a perfectly formed male.

  Sophie clambered up onto the sofa next to Holly and peered out the window.

  “It is Daddy!”

  “Should we go let him in?”

  The child ran to the entryway. The minute Holly opened the door, Sophie launched herself into her father’s arms.

  “Baby girl,” he said, catching his daughter and lifting her high. “Did you have fun with Dr. Holly?”

  “We had the best time. I introduced her to all my animals and then we played Candy Land. And she read me books and let me look at this one myself.” Sophie held up a small, square book with a fuzzy rabbit on the cover.

  “Wow. You did have the best time. Why don’t you go and get your toys? We need to get home and Dr. Holly needs to rest.”

  Sophie ran into the living room and Holly stepped aside. “Would you like to come in?”

  He gave a quick shake of his head and Holly couldn’t help it. A pang of disappointment caught her in the chest.

  Liam said, “It’s been a long day for Sophie, so I’m going to take her home now. But can I ask you a question? Do you ever work with outside agencies? You know, consult on cases?”

  “What do you mean by ‘outside agencies’?”

  “The police, maybe. To help them understand how trauma might turn someone into a criminal.”

  A flush crept up Holly’s cheeks. In all honesty, she was flattered. Then again, most new parents studied her school’s website. Liam’s curiosity had more to do with her professional life and nothing to do with his interest in her personally. “Have you been checking up on me?”

  His lips twitched into a smile. “I might have done an internet search. I found your book.”

  “To answer your question, sure. I’ve worked with law enforcement on occasion. But honestly, all of that was years ago. Almost another lifetime.”

  “I got my stuff,” said Sophie. She approached, her arms full of animals and her blanket.

  “Then we better get going.”

  “Tell Dr. Holly good-night.”

  “G’night, Dr. Holly. I love you.”

  Holly’s heart filled until she thought it might burst. “Good night, Sophie. Be good for your daddy.” And then she remembered. “Hold on one sec. Liam, I have your food.”

  Holly had stowed Liam’s uneaten meal in her fridge. She grabbed the container and brought it to the door. He reached out and their hands touched.

  Holly’s skin warmed. It was more than the brief contact with Liam—who was wholly male and virile. It was that being around him reminded Holly that she was also a woman who had too long neglected many of her needs.

  Chapter 8

  Marcus Jones stood in the middle of the situation room. Pictures of Darcy Owens were tacked to the wall. He stared at each photo, his vision blurring until he saw only dots. It was early Tuesday morning. He hadn’t slept since yesterday, when Darcy Owens was spotted in the woods. With a curse, he rubbed his dry and tired eyes. “Where are you?” he muttered to himself, not for the first time.

  The serial killer was out there, somewhere. Rocky Mountain Justice had failed to catch her a second time. Hell, he was the team’s leader, so the failure was personal.

  Without the help of Billy Dawson, Darcy could have succumbed to her wounds, the elements or both. Had she? Marcus would be foolish to think that it wasn’t a possibility. And Marcus was never a fool.

  Still, he had a feeling—a tickling at the base of his spine—that the serial killer was out there, somewhere. That meant something even worse. That Rocky Mountain Justice had failed. Hell, he was the team’s leader, so the failure was personal.

  “Hey, boss?” a voice came from just outside the door.

  Marcus turned to see Wyatt standing in the doorway. Holding a tablet computer, the other man said, “I think that Liam is onto something with the local psychologist. I read her book last night. She has some interesting theories.”

  “Interesting enough that we should talk to her?”

  “I have her work address,” said Wyatt.

  “What are we waiting for?” Marcus asked. “Let’s s
peak to Dr. Jacobs and see what kind of help she can give.”

  The drive to Dr. Jacobs’s place of work took only minutes, and soon they pulled into the parking lot of Saplings. “To be honest,” said Marcus as he put the SUV into Park and turned off the ignition, “I didn’t expect to find such a noted expert at a small-town preschool.”

  “From what I gathered from my research, Dr. Jacobs used all the money she made from her book and opened this school. Local girl made her fortune and returned home—you know the story.”

  After pocketing the keys, Marcus opened the door and stepped into the morning sun. He exhaled, his breath visible in the early chill. “I hope she can bring something to this search. Because if the new guy, Liam, can’t deliver, we’re out of options.”

  It took only a moment for Wyatt and Marcus to get an appointment with Holly Jacobs. She met with them in a spare classroom, where all the furniture was too small. Tiny tables. Tiny chairs. Tiny sink. Tiny squares of carpeting. Leaning against the wall, Marcus felt like a giant.

  “Thanks for taking time with us,” said Wyatt. “We’re with Rocky Mountain Justice. It’s a private security agency. We’re working with the district attorney’s office on the Darcy Owens case.”

  “Darcy Owens?” Holly repeated. “Isn’t she that serial killer?”

  “Yes,” said Marcus, glancing at Wyatt. “She’s still at large, but we have intel that she was abused as a child. We know that your expertise is on childhood trauma, and we’re hoping that you can give us some insight into our suspect. How she might act or react to being on the run. Anything that might help us in our search.”

  “To be fair,” said Holly, “I don’t know much about the case, beyond what I’ve seen in the media. One thing I found in my research is that those who suffer trauma often return to the place where they were most vulnerable—a way to undo the past.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” said Marcus. “Wouldn’t they want to avoid the place where something bad happened to them?”

  “Simply put, trauma is an emotional response to a stressful situation. That means we all experience trauma because it’s part of being human,” said Holly. She sat on a small table and looked up at Marcus. “But what happens if the trauma is severe, prolonged and begins at an early age?”

  “It can lead to a schism within the self,” said Wyatt.

  “Exactly,” said Holly. “Basically, a person who is exposed to trauma again and again can lose a piece of themselves and/or their humanity. It’s worse with kids, who don’t yet have a definite sense of self. It’s why abused children end up with abusive partners—that or they become abusers themselves. They’re drawn to the familiarity of the situation, despite the fact that—on some level—they know it’s unhealthy. But my theory, and the premise of my book, is that people engage in the unhealthy or even dangerous relationships because they’re trying to undo the past.”

  Marcus nodded. It was an interesting theory. It also gave him a notion of his own. “So, she might go to the place that she began killing.”

  Holly said, “If she has a strong bond to the area, then perhaps.” She handed him a business card. “My cell phone number is on the back. Call if you have any more questions.”

  “What do we owe you for your time?” he asked.

  Holly shook her head. “Nothing. I’m not going to charge you for answering a few questions.”

  “Thanks. Much appreciated.” Marcus tucked the card into his back pocket and strode quickly from the building and through the parking lot. “Las Vegas,” he said to Wyatt as they walked. “My money is on Darcy trying to get back to Vegas.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “You heard what Holly said. Our killer will try to regain a part of herself. She committed her first string of murders in Las Vegas. Ergo, that’s where she’ll head.”

  Wyatt asked, “What’s our next play?”

  “As soon as Katarina gets into the office, I’ll ask her to hack into the camera system run by LVPD. Every person we get can be run through facial recognition. Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  “I have a few problems with your theory about Vegas,” said Wyatt.

  “Which are?” Marcus asked.

  “First, Las Vegas is a long way from Wyoming. She ditched RMJ’s vehicle at a truck stop, so to get to Nevada, she’s going to need a ride. And she doesn’t have any other known accomplices.”

  “Key word,” said Marcus. “Known. What about the call to the White Wind? Couldn’t that person have picked her up? Given her a ride somewhere or provided her with another car? Besides,” Marcus continued, while fishing the SUV keys from his pocket, “you said that Darcy was devious and intelligent. I’d say she could figure out how to get anywhere she wanted to go.”

  He used the remote to unlock the doors. As he slid behind the steering wheel and started the engine, Marcus’s gut burned with the indignation of failure. Putting the car into gear, he dropped his foot on the gas. Tires squealed as the acrid scent of burnt rubber wafted through the air. The big vehicle lunged forward.

  “You okay?” Wyatt asked.

  “Not really. I still can’t believe that we let her get away.”

  “Come on, Marcus. She’s eluded capture for years. The fact that she remains at large isn’t a reflection on you or your abilities, or this agency.”

  Funny, thought Marcus, as he pulled onto the road that led back to the RMJ building. Darcy Owens escaping seemed pretty damn personal to him—as was the need to bring her to justice.

  * * *

  Liam spent the morning doing the one thing he hated most in the world—busywork. Katarina had given him a passcode for all the doors at RMJ. He’d also been given his own office—a repurposed bedroom on the second floor. Now he sat—without moving—while his face was scanned for the facial recognition software. The IT hub, a room full of monitors, was also on the second floor. Along the back wall, a server hummed quietly.

  “There isn’t a more secure building in the state,” Katarina said proudly as she tapped on a keyboard. Liam’s face appeared on a large monitor. “Government or privately owned.”

  “So, what’s next on the agenda?” Liam asked. His expertise was in the natural world, not in the world of technology.

  “We’re waiting for a final verdict on the White Wind resort.”

  “I thought they decided that Darcy wasn’t at the resort and nobody said that they’d spoken to her.”

  “Both are true,” said Katarina. “But she called the main number and, from there, spoke to someone. It means that whoever she called is lying to protect her.”

  “Or to protect themselves.”

  “Either way,” said Katarina, turning to tap on another keyboard. “She might call them again. By the way, the scan’s done. You can move now.”

  Liam stood and stretched. He’d dropped Sophie off at school that morning, all the while hoping to see Holly Jacobs again. A new teacher had taken over her class and he wondered what both his daughter and Holly were doing.

  He also wondered if he’d ever have the chance to see Holly again. There was something about her—an honesty, maybe—that made him feel drawn to her. Never mind that she was beautiful.

  A phone sat in the middle of the keyboards and wires. It rang shrilly, drawing Liam back to the here and now.

  Katarina looked at the caller ID. “It’s the DA, Chloe Ryder.” Activating the speaker function as she answered the call, she said, “This is Katarina.”

  “Katarina, it’s Chloe.”

  “I have our new hire, Liam Alexander, on the line with me.”

  “Nice to meet you,” said the woman named Chloe. “At least on the phone.”

  Liam leaned toward the phone. “Same,” he said.

  “I just got a call from the FBI agent in charge of the Darcy Owens case. They’ve decided that there’s no connection between h
er and the resort. More than that, there’s been a credible sighting in Reno.”

  “And since she used to live in Vegas,” said Katarina, “the resources are going to that search.”

  “Exactly,” said Chloe.

  “How do they explain the four-minute call?” Liam asked.

  “Easy,” said Chloe. “The call went to the main number. While it could have been transferred anywhere in the hotel, there’s really no way to find that out after the fact.”

  Chloe continued, “More than that, the phone system is set to allow a customer to be on hold for only three minutes and thirty seconds before being sent back to the front desk.”

  “Let me get this straight,” said Liam. He tried to keep the incredulity from his voice, but he didn’t do a good job. “The theory is that Darcy called the resort but then got put on hold?”

  “There’d be more interest in the resort if she hadn’t been spotted in Nevada, that’s for sure,” said the DA. “Obviously, Reno is not part of my jurisdiction. The FBI said we were free to keep our investigation open in Wyoming, so long as we share any leads.”

  “You’re the boss, Chloe,” said Katarina. “What are your thoughts?”

  The line was filled with silence and Liam wondered if the DA had hung up—or maybe the call had been dropped. After a moment, Chloe Ryder said, “Someone at that resort spoke to Darcy Owens. I’d bet my career on it. We need to find out who that person is and what Darcy wanted.”

  * * *

  It was late afternoon and Liam had returned to the conference room for yet another meeting.

  Marcus sat at the head of the conference table with Wyatt on his right. Liam sat next to Katarina and opposite Wyatt. Luis Martinez was still in Cheyenne, keeping watch over Julia’s recovery. The medical reports weren’t promising.

  Shifting in his seat, Marcus announced the new objectives of this mission. “I spoke to Chloe Ryder after she called the office. The Pleasant Pines DA wants to continue our contract. We need to find out what connection Darcy Owens has to that resort.”