Agent’s Mountain Rescue

by Jennifer D. Bokal

  “This is my daughter’s life,” Liam said, his voice a feral growl. “I don’t give a damn about Rocky Mountain Justice or its reputation.”

  Wyatt didn’t blink. “I want to save your daughter as much as you do. But trust me on this. I’ve been where you are, and I know Darcy. I know her patterns. If she feels trapped or threatened, she’s going to lash out, which means...” He let his words trail off.

  Liam finished the thought for him. “Which means that she might get spooked and do something to hurt my kid.” Slamming his fist on the table, he gritted his teeth. “Not in this lifetime.”

  Liam worked his jaw back and forth. He let out a long sigh, seeming to make up his mind about something. What that something was, Holly could only guess.

  “When we first met,” Liam said to Wyatt, “you said that you’d studied Darcy Owens for years. You have to know something. How can we save Sophie?”

  Holly’s chest ached with the pain that Liam was feeling. Placing a hand on his arm, she said, “I’m in this with the rest of you. I’ll do anything to help find that little girl.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Marcus. “You look like you’re a little worse for wear.”

  Holly’s side ached. Her neck was sore, her throat raw. But nothing would stop her from saving Sophie. “Am I sure?” she asked, repeating his question. “I’m positive.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that,” said Wyatt. “Because I have a theory.”

  Leaning forward, Liam said, “Go ahead.”

  “Darcy has two kinds of victims. I think they represent—to her, at least—the two kinds of people she sees as responsible for her formation into a serial killer.”

  “Formation?” Liam echoed.

  Wyatt continued, “We’ve seen information in her file, provided by the assistant DA, that Darcy was believed to have been severely abused as a child.”

  “Who does she see as responsible for her abuse?” Holly asked.

  “Her parents,” said Wyatt. “Her father died in the woods from exposure and alcohol poisoning. Her mother committed suicide by hanging.”

  Finally, she had something to add. Placing her hand on her throat, she traced her fingers lightly over the welt on her skin. “Those deaths weren’t accidental. I have every reason to believe that Darcy killed her parents.”

  “I do, too,” said Wyatt. “I think she’s been repeating the same crimes again and again. Men who see her in a sexual way, or whom she sees as a threat, are killed in the same manner she killed her father. Those with whom she has a closer bond get hanged.”

  “She tried to hang me,” said Holly. “Should I be flattered?”

  “Yes,” said Wyatt. “In a weird, twisted way, at least.” He paused a moment, rubbing the thumb of one hand across the palm of the other. “Look, we can call in the FBI. Hell, we might even get them to bring in the army. But a shock-and-awe scenario won’t make Darcy cower. She’ll fight, or at least try to get in one last bit of revenge before getting taken down. We need to move with caution.”

  Liam blanched. “You mean that she’ll kill Sophie.”

  Wyatt rubbed the palm of his hand again. “That’s my fear.”

  “So how would we approach her with—” Holly paused “—caution?”

  “That’s where you come in,” said Marcus. “Holly, I want you to make contact.”

  “No way,” said Liam. “I won’t let her go. I won’t let her risk her life again.”

  “Let me, Liam? Really?” Holly asked. Even she could hear the incredulity in her tone. “I can make up my mind about which risks I’m willing to take and which ones I’m not.”

  Wyatt said, “Holly is the best person to confront Darcy—at least, at first. For starters, Darcy assumes she’s dead. Seeing Holly might throw her off her game long enough for someone to find Sophie.”

  “But where would she have taken my kid?” Liam asked.

  “Where did Darcy grow up? I know that she’s gone someplace connected to her childhood,” Holly said.

  Wyatt began typing on a keyboard. “I have electronic copies of everything I gave you, Holly,” he said. “This is her father’s obit. Ten years ago, Frank Owens died of exposure. He was survived by his wife, Shelby, and daughter, Darcy. They lived off Fool’s Gold Road.”

  Wyatt’s finger danced over the keyboard, pulling up a map of forest, rivers and roads. A red dot indicated the Owens home. “It’s off the main road by at least half a mile,” said Liam.

  “Seems like that would be the perfect place to disappear,” said Holly. “Who lives there now?”

  Wyatt tapped on the keyboard some more and the map was replaced with an electronic copy of an official document. “Tax records show that it’s been abandoned for the past decade. And...” He typed some more. “Here’s a satellite image, taken two weeks ago.”

  There was a clear picture of a dilapidated two-story white farmhouse. Wyatt manipulated the image, bringing up the rear of the property.

  “What’s that?” Marcus asked, pointing to the screen.

  Wyatt focused the aspect on a set of metal doors. They were set into the house on the ground level at an angle and hidden by an overgrown lawn. “Is that a basement entry?” asked Liam. “It’d be the perfect way to get inside.”

  “As long as we can keep Darcy focused on something else,” said Marcus.

  “Like the front door and me,” said Holly.

  Liam stood. His large frame seemed to fill the small space. “You can’t do this, Holly. Please. Stay at the resort and see the doctor, I’m begging you.” He touched the cut on her cheek. “I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

  “No way,” she said, getting to her feet, as well. The cut on her side filled with fiery pain. She sucked in a ragged breath. “Face it, you need me. Otherwise, it’ll be impossible to take her by surprise.”

  Marcus said, “It’s a solid plan, Liam. Admit it.”

  “I hate it.” Liam exhaled and stared at the floor.

  Marcus turned his attention to Holly. “We’ll get a mic on you first. That way we can hear everything you say—and everything Darcy says, as well. You can drop us off along the driveway, and we can use the woods as cover. While you’re distracting Darcy, Holly, the rest of us can sneak around to the back and find Sophie.”

  “There is no we. Or us,” said Liam. “I already told you that I work alone.”

  “I used to work better alone, too,” said Wyatt. “Now I’m part of a team. Face it, brother. You are, too.”

  A small microphone was taped to Holly’s chest. Aside from having her conversations picked up by the device, every word she said would be transmitted to the men from RMJ and also sent back to the van and recorded.

  “It’s ready,” said Marcus as he reached for a laptop. “I’ll turn it on now.”

  Liam held up his hand. “Can you give me a minute? I want to talk to Holly. Alone.”

  “Sure thing,” said Marcus.

  Liam and Holly walked back to the resort and back to where Liam’s car had been left in the valet lot. She understood that they needed his vehicle to get Sophie back, but she hated every second that the little girl was forced to spend with the killer.

  Because there was something else she knew but could never say. Darcy Owens might not have simply kidnapped Sophie. The serial killer could very well be planning to take the little girl’s life—if she hadn’t already.

  After they got into the car, he turned to Holly, pinning her in place with his stare. “Darcy almost killed you once already.”

  “I know,” she said.

  “I can’t have you risk your life again.”

  “You can’t stop me, Liam. Besides, you need me.”

  “I don’t need anyone,” he said, staring out the windshield as he drove. “Not anymore.”

  “That’s not true, and deep down you know it.”

>   Liam shook his head but said nothing. Holly could feel him rebuilding the wall that he lived behind. This time, she refused to let him hide.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  Liam continued to drive, his gaze like flint and his jaw tight. She thought he would ignore her, but he spoke, his voice a whisper.

  “Thanksgiving about a dozen years ago, my cousin, Charlie, died. We were helping to find a missing hiker. Charlie had an issue with his equipment. It shouldn’t have been fatal, but the weather conditions made it impossible for me to save him.” He gripped the dog tag around his neck. “It’s why I work alone—I don’t want to take on the responsibility for anyone. I especially don’t want to be responsible for someone who means a lot to me.”

  “I’m so sorry. I had no idea,” Holly said, reaching for his arm. She knew what it was like to lose someone that she loved. To hold herself responsible for their death. She knew how that guilt had the power to define a life.

  Was now the time to share her past with Liam?

  Holly opened her mouth, ready to confess. Liam spoke first and she remained silent.

  “At least now you know why you can’t go.” He met her eyes. In his gaze, she saw that the wall Liam built to protect his heart had started to crumble.

  “I’m going with you,” she said. “I survived. I’m ready for her now. I understand her. This time, Darcy won’t get a second chance to make me a victim.”

  Chapter 18

  Darcy planned to kill the kid all along. In fact, the Darkness had urged her to act. Yet Darcy knew what it was to be a frightened little girl, and instead she took Sophie to the one place they could be safe. Home.

  The house from Darcy’s childhood hadn’t changed much since she’d abandoned it a decade before. The same furniture sat in the same places. A moth-eaten jacket of her mother’s dangled limply from a wire hanger in the coat closet by the front door.

  Sure, the home had fallen into disrepair. Faded paint peeled from the walls and chunks of plaster had fallen from the ceiling. Still, it was home—the place of her origins.

  The shabbiness notwithstanding, there were more differences, subtle but unmistakable, from the last time Darcy had lived in this house. Her mother was no longer in the kitchen, humming while preparing a meal and happily ignorant of the horrors her daughter faced every single night. Her father’s heavy footsteps had gone silent. The stink of alcohol fumes no longer wafted through the hallways. Her cries of anguish were no longer smothered with his soft hand and a hard grip.

  Through her own actions, Darcy’s parents had faded to nothing more than shadows and dust. Gone now, they were part of a nightmare that had been chased away with the dawn.

  Billy. Her parents. All of the men. She’d outlived them all. Casting a glance at Sophie, Darcy smiled. Tears had dried on her small face, but at least the child had stopped wailing, thrashing and whining for her father. It was a good sign. She was already compliant and coming to accept Darcy as her savior. From this day forward, life would be different. This time, Darcy would be the loving and protective mother. She’d keep her child safely hidden away from the cruel world.

  The crunch of tires on gravel startled her. Standing behind the drapes, she looked out at the drive. The sun had not yet risen. Mist hung in the air, and droplets of water clung to the grime-covered windows. There was nothing.

  Then a light cut through the gloom. Headlights. A car. It was gray—just like the predawn. Darcy’s pulse slowed as she watched the approaching automobile. It lurched to a stop. From her vantage point, she could see the indistinct outline of a lone driver.

  Sure, there was the possibility that someone had lost their way, but Darcy wasn’t an idiot. Someone was coming for her. Yet, who?

  She’d abandoned the car, stolen from Kevin Carpenter, miles back. Then taken a pickup truck that was too old to have GPS tracking.

  The car’s engine still idled, and the lights shone directly into the front window. Darcy stepped back, hiding in the shadows.

  Sophie, her eyes rimmed in red, sat on the floor. She clutched an old doll to her chest and rocked back and forth. She saw the headlights, too, and sucked in a noisy breath.

  “Is that Daddy?” she asked.

  It was the same question Darcy was asking herself.

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. A sliver of fear ran through her body.

  With the lights still on and the engine running, the car door opened. Darcy’s breath caught in her chest. Her throat tightened, and she gave a strangled cry. The form was shrouded in mist. It was moving up the path slowly, and as it came into view, the fear that had stabbed Darcy grew. She felt as if she was seeing a ghost come back from the dead to drag her to hell.

  But there were no ghosts. This was a woman. A single raised welt stood out on her pale neck. Her face and hands were marked with cuts and bruises. She moved slowly, no doubt because the knife wound to her side still caused her pain.

  “Who is it?” asked Sophie. She moved next to Darcy. Standing on tiptoes, the child looked over the sill. “It’s Holly!”

  Darcy gripped the child’s arm, pulling her away from the window. “We can’t be seen.”

  It was too late. Holly stared at the house, and her eyes were filled with fury.

  Again, a shiver ran down Darcy’s spine. She was unaccustomed to fear, and in that instant, she realized a single important truth. Just as the vile actions of her parents had created the Darkness, so had Darcy’s deeds brought about a change in Holly. What once had been a mild-mannered woman had morphed into a fierce and fiery adversary.

  Still, Darcy refused to give in to the unfamiliar emotion threatening to take over her mind and body.

  Grabbing Sophie by both arms, she shook the child hard. “Do not make a sound. Remember what I told you. Holly wants to steal you away from your family.”

  Silent tears slid down the child’s cheeks. Her bottom lip quivered.

  “If Holly sees you, she’ll take you away,” Darcy continued before opening the closet door. Shoving the child into the dark space, Darcy ordered, “Don’t make a sound. Don’t show yourself. Do you hear me?”

  “Y-yes,” Sophie stuttered.

  Satisfied that the child was suitably frightened, Darcy slammed the closet door closed and strode to the front door. Inhaling deeply, she pulled it open and stepped onto the porch. The morning air was cold and Darcy folded her arms across her chest to keep from shivering.

  The cord around Holly’s neck had come loose, she told herself. Or maybe a hotel worker had heard Holly’s struggles and entered the room at the last minute. Obviously, something had gone wrong, and in truth, what that was didn’t matter.

  She shivered as Holly slowly climbed the steps. “I guess I’m harder to kill than you thought,” the other woman said. “You look pretty scared to see me.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Darcy. “I’m a fast learner. I won’t make the same mistake a second time.” She paused. “How’d you find me?”

  “Easy,” said Holly. “I understand you now. I studied you. This is where it all started. This is where your need to kill was formed.”

  “I bet you think you’re clever.” Darcy’s pulse spiked, sending her heart into a frenzy. “You’ve outsmarted me and now what? What do you want? Why are you here?”

  Holly remained calm and her gaze impassive. “Give me Sophie. If you do, I’ll leave and never come back.”

  Darcy laughed. The lie was flimsy and obviously part of a trap. “You couldn’t have thought it would be that easy.”

  Holly’s eyes slipped from Darcy’s face. She looked into the room beyond. The back of Darcy’s neck tickled, as if someone were watching her from the shadows. Instinctively, she turned. There was nothing.

  “You want easy, give me the child.”

  “Why would I do that? You claim you came here by yourself, that you haven’t to
ld anyone what happened. What’s stopping me from killing you a second time?”

  * * *

  Gun in hand, Liam crept through the woods. He also wore an earpiece and heard every word that passed between the two women.

  Marcus and Wyatt, both armed as well, followed in his steps. The FBI had been alerted. Even now, they were parked at the end of the drive, waiting for word that Sophie was safe so they could storm the house.

  The place came into view. It was just as he had seen from the satellite image. The old farmhouse had been painted white years ago and now was a dusty beige. The black trim was faded and chipped. The porch sagged, and the bottom step had split in two.

  Since the schematics appeared correct, it meant that there was a basement entrance at the rear of the house. All Liam needed was another minute or two and then he would save his daughter. Then he’d make Darcy pay for what she’d done. His steps faltered.

  Liam knew that his personal mission was about more than justice. It was also about more than finding his daughter. What Liam wanted was cold-blooded revenge.

  Walking again, he used the woods as cover and stopped once he was even with the front porch. His car, which Holly had driven, was parked nearby. The door was still open, and the engine was running. It was a brilliant move on her part—perfect for a quick getaway.

  From behind a copse of trees, Liam watched Holly. She still stood on the porch. Shoulders squared and jaw tight, she faced down the killer with only feet between them. Holly was doing her job and keeping Darcy distracted.

  For a moment, a deep pang of guilt gripped his middle. He shouldn’t have allowed Holly to put herself in such a dangerous situation. Then again, she had insisted. More than that, she’d been right. Liam couldn’t get Sophie back without help.

  Without thought, he lifted his gun. Lining up the sights with the middle of Darcy’s forehead, he exhaled. All he needed to do was pull the trigger and the gun would fire. Traveling at twenty-five hundred feet per second, the killer would be dead before ever hearing the gun’s report.

  Sure, this hadn’t been the initial plan. Yet Liam knew that sometimes plans changed. Often, you got only one shot—and you took it.