The Perfect Outsider

by Loreth Anne White

  He inhaled deeply. “Look, maybe I have some recall of a brunette and her kids running through the dark, but I feel no urge inside me, no whisper, not one damn thing that tells me I wanted to, or needed to, or did anything to hurt that woman. Nothing. Just…just…” He turned away.

  “Just what?” June said.

  “I can’t place it.” There was dejection in his voice now. “But I feel guilt. I feel responsible for something awful that involves a woman, maybe not her, maybe some other woman.”

  He turned back and his eyes met June’s. The raw honesty in them took her aback and her heart clenched. She’d seen a similar look of need, anguish, desperation, in Matt’s eyes when she’d told him to choose between her or his religious cult. It was the night before he’d kidnapped Aiden from day care and fled with him into the wilderness.

  June had never seen either alive again.

  If she’d understood the desperation in Matt’s eyes, if she’d been kinder, if she’d sought proper therapy for him, he and Aiden might still be alive. She tried to swallow the sudden sharp surge of emotion swelling inside her, but couldn’t.

  “There you have it,” Jesse said. “I’m opening up, being as honest as I can. What in hell else can I do?” He sank back down onto the bed.

  Empathy swelled through June. She sheathed her Glock, and tentatively sat on the edge of the bed beside him.

  “Jesse?” she said gently.

  He didn’t look at her.

  She reached out, placed her hand over his.

  He stared at her hand, her pale skin against his dark tan, then he looked slowly into her eyes, and she imagined the warmth of his lips against hers. June’s stomach swooped and heat pooled low in her belly.

  Her raw, physical response to him shocked her. What on earth was going on with her?

  A wry smile twisted his lips. “You know what? When I woke up in your bed I thought I was drowning, but then I saw your face and I thought I was seeing an angel. You were surrounded by warmth, light. It made we want to come back up.”

  Her cheeks went hot. She wanted to remove her hand from over his, but couldn’t.

  He glanced around the room. “Now I’m in some prison.”

  “Just until we know who you—”

  “I’m not talking about these walls, I’m imprisoned in my own head. What if I never find out who I am? What if this has more to do with a psychological block than an injury to my brain? What if I’m running from something inside myself?”

  Silence filled the space between them, loaded, simmering. His skin was hot under her fingertips. He leaned closer, too close. “What does that tell you about me, June?” he whispered.

  She got up quickly, heart racing. “I’m just a paramedic, not a doctor. Or a psychologist.”

  He stared at her for several beats, and June knew he’d seen the unbidden flare of lust in her eyes. She felt naked. Afraid, suddenly, at what was happening inside her.

  “I need to talk to Lacy again,” she said, making for the door.

  “You can’t hold me here.”

  June paused, hand on the doorknob. “I won’t, not for long. I’m going to bring in the FBI.”

  “I don’t want to see the feds.”

  “If you’re innocent you won’t have anything to worry about, right?”

  “I told you, June, I don’t know why I feel guilt. Maybe I have done something bad. Maybe I’ve broken the law in some small way. But I’d like to know who I am, and what I did, before you turn me in.”

  “You need to see a proper doctor, Jesse. The FBI can help with your ID and with getting you medical care.”

  “June, help me figure it out before turning me over to the feds.”

  She scrubbed her hand over her brow. He could be a con artist, playing her. Her gaze flickered to the photo on mantel. Jesse followed her eyes.

  “Where is he—your husband?” he said.

  She tightened her mouth. She shouldn’t answer. That’s how they did it—con artists. Little by little, they found your weak points, zeroed in. Then they had you. It’s how Samuel had done it with every one of his Devotees.

  “He died,” she said quietly. “Five years ago.”

  “You still wear a wedding band.”

  “To remember why I do what I do.”

  “What exactly is it that you do, June?”

  Without answering, she stepped out the door, locking it behind her.

  And June realized her hands were shaking.

  * * *

  Jesse stared at the closed door, heart banging hard against his ribs.

  She was a widow—why did it mean so much to him?

  His thumb worried his own naked ring finger and desperation swelled in his chest, followed by an indescribable sense of loss and loneliness.

  He needed to find the reasons for his feelings of guilt and remorse, and he had to do it before June brought in law enforcement. And he sure wasn’t going to find them holed up in here. If he was going to find answers anyplace, it would be in Cold Plains. Jesse needed to go there, and he had to find Samuel. Everything was tied to Samuel.

  He lurched to his feet, banged on door. “June!”

  No response.

  He banged again, then jiggled the lock.

  “I’ll shoot your ass off!” came Molly’s voice.

  Jesse didn’t doubt it.

  He was trapped. At June’s mercy. In some cave room. Inside his head.

  Chapter 4

  June heard him banging as she went down the passage and her jaw tightened, hands fisting at her sides. She wasn’t going to be able to contain him in there much longer. She could even face legal implications down the road. Her pager sounded again.

  Tension strapped tighter across her chest.

  Now that she’d found Lacy, she needed to head down the mountain, back to Cold Plains, to her job. What in hell excuse was she going to give Bo Fargo?

  She couldn’t tell him she was out of pager range. Although there were dead cell-phone zones in these mountains, the pager system had greater reach.

  She entered the living room, which opened out onto the kitchen. Gray light streamed down from skylights and a fire crackled in the stone hearth to ward off the underground coolness that permeated the cave house. It was safe to burn wood now, with the cloud socked low over the mountains—no telltale smoke would be seen from afar. Otherwise, they burned only at night.

  June found Lacy pacing in front of the fire, rubbing her arms in a nervous gesture.

  “I need sleep, June—but I can’t rest with that man in the same house as my twins. I just can’t.” Accusation, bitterness filled her eyes. “I don’t know why you brought him here. Maybe I should have stayed in Cold Plains. At least if I’d stuck it out with Samuel my children would be safe.”

  June took hold of Lacy’s shoulders. “Look at me, Lacy. That’s exactly where Samuel gets his power—by subtly threatening violence or death for disobeying him. He’s a sociopath. He’s sick—evil. And his is the worst kind of mental abuse. It’s no way to live, and you know it. You did the right thing, for your children, for yourself, for your future. I’m going to get you into an exit-counseling program real quick, okay? Which will mean moving you out of the house as soon as we can.”

  “I thought you did the counseling yourself.”

  “I do some of the initial work, yes, but I want you to get out of here and into a good program as soon as is feasible.”

  She sniffed, wiping her nose. “Why? Because I’m more vulnerable than the others?”

  “No, Lacy, it’s because you’ve been through an incredibly stressful experience in those woods, and you have your children to think of. You all need critical-incident stress counseling as much as you need deprogramming work. Your fear right now is your worst enemy.”

  Tears filled Lacy’s eyes and June hesitated over what she was going to say next, but decided she had to press forward. “Lacy, I need you to walk me through what happened in the woods just one more time. Can you do that?”


  Lacy’s mouth thinned.

  “Please,” June said. “Come sit here by the fire. I know you’re tired, but this is important.”

  Lacy lowered herself into a chair next to the hearth, her hands clutching the armrests. June drew up an ottoman, sat in front of Lacy and took her hands. They were ice-cold. Her face was ghost-white.

  “Close your eyes,” June said gently. “Try to go back to when you first saw the two men near the rock sentinel. What did the air feel like on your face?”

  Lacy was silent for a few minutes, then she inhaled deeply.

  “It felt damp, full of moisture.”

  “What could you smell?”

  “Soil. Pine needles…” She hesitated, then smiled. “And cherry. Bekka was eating a candy. She smelled like sugar and artificial cherry flavor.”

  “This is good, Lacy, really good.” June was careful to keep her voice calm, soothing. “Now you see the two men—tell me what you’re seeing.”

  “I’m looking at them through bushes—berry bushes, I think. The boughs from the conifers are hanging low. I’m peering through them.”

  “What’s the ground underfoot like?”

  “Squishy. Quiet. No noise giving us away.”

  “Are you holding the twins now?”

  She shook her head. “I told them to wait a few yards back. They were so quiet in the forest, the two of them. They must’ve read my fear.” A tear slipped out from under her lashes. “I guess that’s where Abby dropped the first shoe.”

  “And that’s where I found it, Lacy. I took it and planted it on the east flank of the hill so they’d think you went in that direction. That’s where Bo Fargo, his men and the other SAR volunteers are searching right now. They don’t know you’re here. You’re safe.”

  Another tear slipped out from under Lacy’s lashes and tracked slowly down her pale cheek. “I saw Jason Barnes and that guy Lumpy.”

  “Monica Pearl’s friend?”

  She nodded. “They were standing near the tall black rock sentinel where Hannah told us to wait for you. From there you were supposedly going to lead us to the safe house. But we were early.”

  June swallowed. “And Jason and Lumpy had guns?”

  “Rifles and pistols in their holsters. They were pacing in front of the rock, as if waiting for someone—me—to arrive.”

  “And you never told a soul you were coming here?”

  “Not even Gemma Johnson, and she’s the one who helped me see the Devotees for what they really are.”

  A sinister sense unfurled in June. She had to check on Hannah, see that nothing had happened, or that her cover hadn’t been blown. Glancing at the clock on the mantel above the fireplace, she said to Lacy, “And that’s when you backed away, sneaked off into the woods.”

  “Yes.”

  A banging resounded from down the corridor—Jesse trying to get out. Molly could be heard yelling back at him. Tension wound tighter.

  “Let’s go right to where you encountered the man in the denim jacket. What was the scent in the forest like there?” June said, trying to get her to go deeper in a form of cognitive interview.

  “Still wet, loamy. It was raining heavily, and it was dark, misty. He…the man, just appeared, looming out of the forest, blocking my way. I—I guess his backpack made him seem even bigger than he was.”

  June’s heart kicked. “Backpack?”

  “A large one. Like one of those backcountry camping things you take when you go out for a couple of days, with a tent and sleeping roll.”

  June frowned. There had been no backpack near Jesse. Eager would have found it. Could Jason and Lumpy have taken it? Did it have identification in it?

  Blowing out a deep breath, June asked calmly, “What was the first thing Jesse said to you when he appeared in the dark?”

  “He…held up the palms of his hands, like this,” Lacy said, lifting her hands. “And he said, ‘Whoa, where are you off to in such a hurry?’ Then he looked at my twins, and he—” Lacy paused, surprised. “He appeared startled, concerned.”

  “As if he didn’t expect to see you and your kids in the dark, rainy woods?”

  “God, maybe.” She opened her eyes and put her hands to her face. “I…didn’t notice that at the time. I just dropped Bekka and Abby on the ground, lifted the first thing I could find, a log, and swung it at him.”

  “And what did he do then, exactly?”

  Lacy made a motion, arms defensively going up to her face, ducking back.

  “He ducked from you?”

  “I guess. I was in panic, not thinking clearly.”

  “Close your eyes again, Lacy. Tell me what happened next.”

  She inhaled deeply. “I yelled at him, saying, ‘No henchman of Samuel’s is going to hurt my babies.’”

  “You said all those words?”

  Lacy nodded. “He reeled from the blow and then went down like a rock. I heard the others coming from behind him, crashing through the woods. I dropped the log and picked up Bekka and Abby, one on each hip, my bag over my shoulder, and I just ran. He started shooting at me.”

  “Did any bullets hit near you?”

  “I was too busy running to notice. It was dark. I didn’t want to fall. My only instinct was to get away as fast as I could.”

  June thought of the .40 caliber shell casings she’d found near the log with blood on it, not far from where Jesse appeared to have fallen down into the ravine. The 9 mm casings were a distance away from that spot.

  She bent forward. “Lacy, was there any chance Jesse could have been shooting at the other two men and not you? Could he have been trying to protect you instead of hurt you? And they fired on him because of it?”

  Tears ran fast down Lacy’s face now. “I—I suppose…”

  “Lacy, listen to me, you did a great thing. And thank you for doing this. Now go try and get some sleep.”

  Lacy’s gaze darted nervously to the passage that led to June’s room.

  “I can’t sleep with him in here.”

  “He might not be a bad guy, Lacy. You just told me that yourself. We have to give him the benefit of the doubt. He might be lost and in trouble, too.”

  “We don’t know for sure.”

  We sure as hell don’t.

  “That’s why we’re going to keep him locked up with a guard outside that door until the FBI takes him away. I’ll call Agent Hawk Bledsoe when I go into town.”

  “You’re leaving?” Panic showed in her face.

  “I need to put in an appearance, cover my bases. It might take some hours, but you’ll be safe with everyone else here.”

  Lacy got up from her chair. “Are you sure?”

  “Hundred percent.” June forced a smile. “Trust me, everything is going to work out fine.”

  June watched the young woman walk out of the living room. She wished she believed her own words.

  * * *

  A white polo shirt enhanced Samuel Grayson’s tan, which in turn brought out the vivid green of his eyes. His dark hair was impeccably cut—he was movie-star handsome, and he knew it as he stood in front of his office window waiting for Mayor Rufus Kittridge to arrive. He’d positioned himself so the sun coming through the window would backlight him. It gave him an edge and sent a subliminal message of superiority, godliness. He used lighting to similar effect when he gave his seminars.

  A bottle of his Cold Plains Creek “tonic” water had been carefully positioned on his desk beside a clean glass. The creek was the reason Samuel had chosen Cold Plains to establish his business five years ago. Legend dating back centuries claimed water from the creek possessed rejuvenating and healing properties. It was this legend that Samuel sold.

  His Devotees bottled the creek water for him out of a sense of duty to their community. And he sold the bottles back to them at $25 a pop, usually at his seminars where peer pressure helped them fork over the dollars. Samuel personally pocketed a hundred percent of the profits. He was now shipping a set quota of bottled water to ot
her towns, too. It was a nicely growing concern.

  A rap sounded at his oak door.

  “Come in!”

  Mayor Rufus Kittridge, in his fifties, limped into the room. His face was round, friendly, and the touch of gray at his temples bespoke experience. The limp was all that remained from injuries sustained in a car-bomb attempt on his life three months ago. Jonathan Miller, the demolitions expert responsible for the bomb, had since been taken into custody in Cheyenne.

  “Rufus!” Samuel said warmly as he stepped forward and clasped the man’s hand.

  The mayor had a firm grip and easy smile. Everyone in town knew him to be a keen Devotee, but few knew their congenial mayor also oversaw two groups of Samuel’s militia-style enforcers. One of the groups was headed by Lumpy Smithers, who’d taken over from Charlie Rhodes after Charlie was shot during an FBI raid on the community center. The other group was headed by the deceptively sweet Monica Pearl. Compartmentalization was key to keeping the unsavory—but necessary—deeds committed by the groups at a legal arm’s length from Samuel. If the FBI ever got evidence on any of the murders, it would be Rufus, Monica and Lumpy who went down—nothing would stick to Samuel. He was incredibly careful about that.

  But he was worried right now.

  Special Agent Hawk Bledsoe and his FBI team were closing in. On top of this, a total of eleven Devotees had disappeared without a trace in the past three months. And these were not “disappearances” sanctioned by him.

  Samuel had begun to fear that he had a mole—possibly even a network—working on the inside to get vulnerable Devotees out of Cold Plains, and he’d heard rumors of a safe house.

  Under Samuel’s orders, Rufus had engaged eighteen-year-old Molly Rigg to pose as a Devotee desperate to get out, and it seemed to have worked—Molly had vanished. But she’d made no contact with Rufus or his men, and Samuel was beginning to fear she’d been deprogrammed. The idea enraged him.

  And now Lacy Matthews and her kids had gone missing. The whole town was abuzz with talk of her disappearance from the coffee shop, which was a gathering place, and Samuel needed to quell the fire, make an example of Lacy and her twins, fast.

  This was why he’d summoned Rufus to his office.