by Misty Evans
“You should call your mom,” Emma said softly, “and wish her a Merry Christmas.”
Mitch half smiled and touched her back, skimming his fingers across the top of her shoulder. “Maybe later.”
“You think we have a visitor, then?” she asked. “Someone who hitched a ride in the van?”
“What’s that?” Will whirled around to face them. “A visitor?”
Mitch filled him in as the two men worked to set up the IV.
“Shit,” Will said as he poked at the inside of Danika’s elbow. The sugar had been added to the water bottle, the tubing duct-taped to the bottle’s opening. Emma wasn’t sure if he swore because of the news or because he couldn’t hit a vein. “Might be more than one who hitched a ride, goddamn lowlifes. I didn’t see anyone skulking around when I went to the barn.”
Mitch fiddled with the bottle, tapping on it with his fingers. “You feel like doing some recon for me once you get that inserted?”
“Absolutely,” Will muttered. “Those sons-of-a-bitches better hope I don’t find them.”
Emma bit her bottom lip. “I don’t like it. We should all stay inside the house and wait for the police to arrive.”
Will’s eyes came up to lock with hers. “You told me I’m not bad luck.”
What did that have to do with anything? “You’re not.”
He grabbed her hand, gave it a squeeze. “Then let me prove it, Doc. You’ve taken care of me for the past sixteen months. Let me return the favor.”
Mitch watched Will leave by the back door. Within seconds, he disappeared behind the horse barn.
“It’s too dangerous,” Emma said, holding Danika’s hand. “We don’t know for sure that someone did this—Danika was borderline suicidal over the holidays—but if there is a murderer on the loose, Will’s out there all alone.”
“I’m sure this isn’t Danika’s doing,” Mitch said. “Someone either hitched a ride on that van or they entered it, killed Officer Moses, and tried to kill Danika once the van arrived. Could be either. I suspect that’s how our visitor got here two days ago to deliver that army guy to your nightstand—he hitched a ride, only Carla never noticed. So either he was out there waiting to do something like this to continue trying to terrorize you, or this is someone new who used the same mode of transportation to get here and terrorize you. And Will is a trained Spec Ops guy. He’ll be fine.”
“This is all my fault.” Her voice was too quiet, her gaze centered on the girl. “She was depressed and I thought I was doing the right thing, staying here and allowing her to get out of the detention center to visit the horses.”
It gutted him seeing her like this, hearing the self-loathing in her voice. He wanted to tell her it wasn’t her fault, he would have done the same thing in her shoes, but he knew those empty words made no difference. “No point in second guessing yourself. As soon as the police and ambulance get here, we’re bugging out. Danika will live.”
Her voice was strained, challenging. “You’re going to leave Will here with a murderer on the loose?”
“I’ll do what I can to convince Will to let the police handle it and come with us, okay?”
“And what about the horses?”
Mitch had to count down from ten to keep from losing his patience. “You heard Cooper. Some of my taskforce teammates are on the way to help out. Once they arrive, I’ll leave them with you at the safe house and I’ll come back to take care of the horses. Okay?”
“So you’ll be here alone with a murderer?”
Jesus, she wouldn’t give up. “One of two things will happen, Emma. The guy will leave once you’re gone or between me, Will, and the cops, we’ll nab his ass and put him behind bars. I will make him pay for this.”
He pointed at Danika’s lifeless body. At least the ashiness of the girl’s skin had receded some, thanks to Will’s homemade IV. That wouldn’t last, though. She needed blood and antibiotics and actual medical treatment.
Tears clouded Emma’s eyes. “I’m so stubborn. If I’d just left when you showed up, none of this would have happened.”
Mitch couldn’t take it anymore. He gently drew her out of the chair and hugged her to him. “I don’t know Danika, but I saw the way she changed the other day while she was here. She came in sullen and withdrawn and by the time she left, she was happy. You were doing what you thought was right to save the girl’s life. You didn’t slit her wrists; our visitor did.”
She melted into him, gripping him around the waist. “You think it’s Chris?”
“Do you? Does this seem like something he might do to get your attention and scare you?”
She was quiet for a long moment. “No, but neither does stalking or any of the other stuff he’s done so far, if you buy that the reason he killed his fiancée a couple of years ago was because he had a break with reality. If, on the other hand, you believe my analysis that he’s actually a sociopathic narcissist, his MO would be to manipulate other people—his resistance fighters, let’s say—into doing the dirty work.”
She broke free from his arms and he could see the psychologist in her was back as she paced the kitchen floor. “That’s it. He’s having others do his dirty work so if he gets caught, he can claim innocence.”
“He’s on the run with Brown. He’s not getting off of that charge.”
Her eyes lit up with insight. “Unless he’s going to claim he was kidnapped.”
“Wha…” Mitch shook his head. “No way. No one’s going to believe he was kidnapped and held against his will.”
“Of course they will. That’s what his fans will want to believe, and he’s a good actor, remember? If he gets caught, he’ll claim he had nothing to do with any of this. That Linda and whoever else is involved, forced him.”
“He wrote a threatening message on his wall at the prison before he left.”
“You don’t think there are prison guards who are fans of his show? If no one saw him write those words, there’s no proof he did. He can claim that a guard or another prisoner snuck in and wrote them.”
Mitch didn’t want to believe it, but he’d seen and heard of far more ludicrous defenses. “You know him better than anyone. How do we get him to show his hand, Doc?”
“I think you know. You were thinking it the other night, then changed your mind about using me as bait, didn’t you?”
“It was never a viable option.”
“Of course it is. Chris is all ego. He likes to gloat and believes he’s superior to all of us, but he’s too clever to admit his involvement. He would have to believe he’s safe from prosecution and be so full of himself that he couldn’t stand not bragging about what he’s accomplished.” Her gaze came back to his, a newfound determination in her eyes. “He would brag to me. I’m the one person who’s never believed him or his insanity plea.”
“No. We are not going to give him that chance.”
“If I let him catch me, if he thought I was at his mercy, he’d sing his own praises from here to the moon. You could put a wire on me or whatever you need to do to get his confession recorded. I could get him to admit he’s been involved all along.”
“Catch you? Fuck, no. Not happening.”
“You can be nearby and then bust in before he does anything to me.”
“He might kill you.”
“He might try, but you’d be there to stop him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Emma.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
He didn’t, but he still wasn’t going along with this. “My job is to protect you and keep you in one piece, not throw you into the hands of a psychotic killer.”
“I’m still waiting to hear your better idea.” She grinned as if this were a game. “Oh, that’s right. You already had this idea but didn’t act on it.”
“Emma, you are undoubtedly the smartest woman I know, and I get that you have a handle on Goodsman’s mindset, but being at his mercy, as you put it, is not the same as a clinical environment where your safety is guaran
teed.”
In the distance, he heard sirens. Finally. A glance out the kitchen window confirmed the ambulance was nearly there, lights flashing as it cruised up the long drive. A lone sheriff’s car trailed behind it.
Emma heard the sirens, too. Her shoulders slumped. “I need to do something. I feel so helpless! I can’t stand waiting around for Chris or one of his fans to hurt someone else.”
“I know. It’s a sucky situation.”
He hugged her before going out to vet the EMTs and sheriff. After letting them inside the house, he spent the next few minutes helping the EMTs get Danika stabilized and into the ambulance. Then another hour explaining everything to the sheriff who had obviously had too many issues to deal with over the past few days and not enough sleep.
“I loved that show,” Deputy Korrin said, rubbing a finger over his mustache. “My wife has all the seasons on Blu-ray.”
Whatever. This jack wagon was going to be no help at all. Mitch didn’t care for the way Korrin looked at Emma, his small, dark eyes roaming over her curves when he thought she wasn’t looking. “If we’re all done here, I need to get Dr. Collins to a meeting.”
Emma raised a brow at him, but he wasn’t taking chances. Up until the sheriff had actually confirmed he was a fan of the Mary Monahan Chronicles, Mitch had planned to have Korrin escort them to the safe house. Now, he’d decided he wasn’t trusting anyone outside of Will with the information that he was moving Emma to a safer location.
“A meeting on Christmas?” the man asked.
Emma gave him that smile. The professional, detached one that Mitch hadn’t seen in awhile. “Criminals don’t take Christmas off, do they? Like you, Deputy, I end up working a lot of holidays and weekends.”
Smooth. As Korrin closed up his notebook and rose from the chair, Emma glanced at Mitch and he nodded at her. Good girl.
“I’ll need you to come to the station and make a formal statement,” Korrin said, sidling over to the back door, “but there’s no one there today that has time to take it due to the holiday and the wildfires. Maybe not tomorrow either.”
“How about I call you on Monday and set up an appointment,” Emma said, opening the door to usher him out.
He handed her a card. “That’ll work. You take care, ma’am.”
Mitch motioned for her to stay put as he followed the man out to his squad car. The rain had slowed to a drizzle.
At the car, he took a good look around. Will was jogging across the yard, a scowl on his face. Lady loped along behind him. When he saw Mitch with the police officer, he gave the man the once over and shook his head at Mitch. He went to the back door to go inside with Emma.
So he hadn’t found anybody or at least nothing he wanted to talk to the sheriff about.
“I’d appreciate it if you keep this off the police scanners,” Mitch said to Korrin. “Some of Goodsman’s fans may be listening to see if they can find out more info about the doctor.”
The sheriff got in his squad car and rolled down the window. “Dr. Collins probably has plenty of former cons angry at her. You might look into other possibilities besides Chris Goodsman.”
Mitch’s blood pressure went straight into the red zone. “Just keep it off the scanners, alright?”
Korrin didn’t respond other than to put the car in reverse. “Don’t touch the van. The CS techs will be out as soon as they can to gather evidence.”
Mitch had the feeling that as soon as they can translated to tomorrow or even later. The sheriff didn’t care about a juvenile delinquent or Emma. He didn’t even seem to care much about Carla’s murder. “The body’s going to get ripe fast in this heat.”
Korrin waved off Mitch’s concern. “The techs will probably be here before you and Dr. Collins get back from your meeting.”
As Korrin drove off, Mitch pulled out his phone and dialed Cooper. “I need FBI crime scene investigators, ASAP.”
“Figured you would. They’re already on their way, and the forensic photographer is my fiancée, so I guarantee you’ll be in good hands.”
Shit. “You told Celina what was going down?”
“It’s fucking Christmas, Holden, and it’s not like I could ignore your calls. She wouldn’t stop bugging me until I told her why.”
Mitch ambled back to the house, seeing Emma’s face framed in the kitchen window. “Jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your day.”
“Yeah, well, traffic’s a bitch, but we’ll be there within the hour.”
Mitch froze. “You’re coming too?”
“Owen is with his mom and I wasn’t about to send Celina by herself as bad as things are in your area. There was a shooting on the highway not fifteen minutes ago. Road rage. Four are dead.”
Closing his eyes, Mitch let out a controlled sigh before he opened them again. “I’ll make it up to you.” He didn’t know how, but there would be hell to pay and rightfully so.
“Shut up and go guard that therapist. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
Inside, Mitch accepted a towel from Emma to dry his hair. “Ready?” he asked her.
She had her suitcase by the front door.
“Did you see anything?” he asked Will as Emma gathered up the dog bowls and tucked them into a bag.
“Nothing,” the man muttered. “These fuckers are pissing me off. Whoever our killer is, he’s got more than survivalist training. If I had a guess, he’s former military.”
“Maybe when we leave, he’ll realize it’s a lost cause and leave too,” Emma said. “You’re welcome to come with us, Will.”
“Oh, hell no,” he said. “He comes after me or the horses, I’ll nail his ass to the wall.”
He and Mitch exchanged a fist bump. “Some of my people will be here in an hour or so to go over the van. Agent Cooper Harris is the man in charge and he’s bringing some FBI crime scene techs. Once Harris and the FBI are done with the scene, they’ll handle the cleanup as well.”
Will nodded. “Got it.”
Emma touched Will on the shoulder. “Be careful.”
He walked them out the door and Mitch froze once more when he saw his truck.
“What is it?” Emma asked, following his line of sight.
Will stopped beside them. “Oh, for fuck sake.”
Mitch’s blood pressure once more hit the red zone. He had the distinct feeling that wherever Mac was in the afterlife, he was gazing down on Mitch’s current situation and laughing his ass off.
Give ’em hell and get your money’s worth, little brother.
Mitch glared at the truck, then the area surrounding them. Somewhere out there, someone else was watching this scene as well, probably also laughing at his predicament.
All four of his tires were slashed, leaving his Ford in a sagging heap near the front porch.
As Mitch rounded on Emma and sent her back into the house, he paused and looked over his shoulder at the woods a hundred yards away.
Chickenshit, he mentally taunted whoever was out there. He was tired of playing games and he wasn’t about to live like a trapped animal. He had a mind to take Emma’s shotgun and go hunting, but he couldn’t leave her alone.
Come and get me.
Chapter Seventeen
Emma tripped over her feet as Mitch and Will practically threw her back inside. Will caught her arm and kept her upright as Salt and Pepper hovered.
The shades were already drawn, the curtains closed, but Will went to the nearest window and checked the lock. Mitch blew in, slamming the door behind him and locking it.
“Where’s your vehicle?” he asked.
His jaw was set. Anger burned in his eyes.
Beside her, Salt whimpered.
Will moved to another window to check its lock. “I have Emma’s truck at the cabin. I run most of the errands for Emma and I don’t have a vehicle.”
“Go get it,” Mitch said. He was dialing someone on his phone. “And watch your back. Whoever this is, they obviously aren’t afraid to kill. They’re amping up the
ir game, and it looks like they’re closing in fast.”
Emma shivered, not only at his words, but at his tone. He looked ready to murder someone.
Bad choice of words, perhaps, but still accurate.
“Yeah, Coop,” he said into his phone as Emma heard Will sneaking out the back door. “Got more trouble.”
While he explained what was going on, Emma went to her candy drawer in the kitchen. M&Ms. She needed a handful.
Hell, she needed the whole damn bag at this point.
Salt and Pepper followed, finding their normal spots on the floor. Their warm, brown eyes watched her, mouths open and panting.
It was silly, but the simple feel of those little candies in her palm calmed her. A tactile crutch. She threw several M&Ms into her mouth, closed her eyes and chewed. Her speeding pulse slowed a tiny bit. She drew a deep breath, went to her kitchen table and bent down.
Blood from Danika had dried in spots on the floor. Ignoring it, she tipped her head to look at the underside of the table. Her backup pistol was there, still duct-taped to the wood. It had been over a year since she’d stuck it under the table, only taking it out once in a blue moon to check it.
She had her trusty S&W in her suitcase, but she wanted—needed more. Ripping off the tape, she palmed the .380 in one hand, the M&Ms in the other. Chocolate and cold, hard steel. Along with the quiet equanimity of the dogs, the combination settled her nerves.
Mitch strode into the kitchen and stopped abruptly when he saw her kneeling beside the table. The Beretta rested in her lap while she pitched candy into her mouth, one after the other, and ground the chocolate shells to bits with her molars.
His gaze lingered on the handgun. “You okay?”
“Do I have a choice?”
After a slight hesitation, he kneeled beside her. “I’m going to get you out of here.”
“I know you are.” She met his worried gaze. “But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t freaking out.”
“You don’t have to lie to me. About anything, you hear?”
She bobbed her head, threw another M&M into her mouth. Sweet, sweet chocolate. Sexy, determined Mitch. “I know what you said about Carla and Danika—that it isn’t my fault—but it sure feels that way. If anything happens to you or Will, I…”
