A Perfect Wife (Blake Wilder FBI Mystery Thriller Book 2)

by Elle Gray

  “Neal, please. Don’t do this. If you love me, you won’t do this.”

  I can see the myriad emotions cycling across his face as he considers her words. I can see there’s a part of him that wants to do just that. Leave with her. For all my talk about hunting him to the end of his days, I know if he decides to take Cassie and leave now, the odds of us finding her again are basically slim to none. The U.S. is a big place, and we simply don’t have the resources to search everywhere for a man with his resources. We wouldn’t have even known about him at all if he hadn’t screwed up with Brad. And he’s been doing this under our noses for a decade.

  No, if he goes, he’ll disappear with Cassie. We’ll never see her again. At least, not until he kills and dumps her somewhere. I can’t let them go. I won’t.

  “Think about this carefully, Stavitz. You’re a lot more likely to get away if you don’t take her and go alone. If you take this woman, you are going to have every local LEO as well as the Bureau hunting you. You really won’t have a moment’s peace. You will spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder. Kidnappings tend to be high priority,” I tell him. “But if you go alone and leave her behind, you’re going to have a lot more room to move about. You won’t be dodging everybody with a badge in this country. Take my word for it.”

  He stands in front of me, looking absolutely torn. Rather than answer me, he turns and runs up the stairs, slamming the door behind him. I know he’s not leaving though. I have no illusions that I got through to him. I’m pretty sure he’s going to get a gun and work up the nut to come back down here and kill me. Which means I should probably work fast.

  “He killed my fiancé,” Cassie says quietly.

  “I know. And I’m sorry, Cassie. So sorry.”

  I reach down and from the hem in my pants, I pull out the bobby pin I secured there. Ever since Alvin Perry took me when I was helping Paxton with his first big case, I made it a habit to always keep a bobby pin on me. That, and I practiced a lot, and got really good at picking locks. If I’d had a bobby pin on me when Perry took me, that whole scene might have played out differently.

  Not that the outcome was bad, but I might not have looked like such an incompetent fool who needed to be rescued. Looking weak and helpless really isn’t my thing. It’s never been a good look on me. I prefer my independence.

  “What are you doing?” Cassie asks.

  “I’m going to get us out of here.”

  I bend and twist the bobby pin until I have it in the proper shape, then set to work on the padlock. Overhead, I hear Stavitz pounding around upstairs, his footsteps heavy. And when I hear the sound of things crashing to the floor as he’s obviously having some sort of a fit of rage, I work faster, knowing that he’s psyching himself up to come down here and put a bullet or two in me.

  I work my makeshift pick into the lock and less than thirty seconds later, I hear the distinctive “snick” of the pin setting. I quickly wiggle the shackle off my ankle then turn to Cassie. As I do though, the door to the basement flies open. Time’s up. I dart to the staircase and slip under it, pressing my finger to my lips, telling Cassie to be quiet. With the way the beds are position, he’ll see her first and won’t realize I’m not sitting on my bunk until he hits the floor. I plan on him hitting the floor a lot harder than he’s expecting to.

  “Time to die, Agent Wilder,” he calls as he stomps down the stairs.

  Cassie’s eyes grow ever wider, and her face is painted with sheer terror. I feel the stairs quaking as Stavitz comes down, and when his feet are about eye level with me, I reach out from between the stairs and grab his ankles. I give them a vicious yank and Stavitz lets out a loud cry of surprise. A moment later, he crashes down onto the stairs, bouncing down them, crying out in pain and cursing in surprise.

  Stavitz hits the concrete floor of the basement with a hard thud and a loud groan. I jump out from behind the stairs and rush at him, but he’s already starting to recover. Even worse, he still has a gun in his hand. Not wanting Cassie to be caught by a bullet intended for me, I deliver a vicious kick to the stomach. He doubles over again, clutching at his stomach, but doesn’t drop the gun, so I do the only thing I can think of－I bound up the stairs as fast as I can.

  The loud crack of his gun fills my ears. A slug tears into the door frame beside me, spraying chips and splinters in a hundred different directions. Some of the wooden shrapnel slices my cheek, making me wince, but I don’t break stride. My only thought is to get him away from Cassie, and as I run through the house, I hear his bellow of rage as he thunders up the stairs after me.

  I reach the front door and fling it open, then dash outside, into the night.

  Thirty-Nine

  Outside of the Stavitz Residence; Lake Larson, WA

  The night is pitch black, and with the moon moving in and out of the cloud cover overhead, the forest path in front of me becomes dappled in a kaleidoscope of silvery luminescence. I run down the path as fast as I dare, taking care to avoid exposed roots or rocks that could force me to turn an ankle. If I go down, I know that’s going to be the end of me. Stavitz will be on me in a heartbeat, and that will be it.

  I hear him behind me, bellowing my name. He’s crashing through the undergrowth, sounding like a rampaging bull coming at me. And the worst part is that he’s gaining. But at least he’s away from Cassie. He’s not going to take his rage at me out on her. That was the goal. And now that I have him outside and away from her, it’s time to take him on.

  I dart off the path and run deeper into the forest. The trunks of the trees are pressed close on either side, the earthy musk of the forest thick in my nose. I lean against a tree, pausing to catch my breath. I try to take shallow breaths to avoid being too loud. Leaning down, I put my hands on my knees and strain my ears to listen. It’s then I realize I can’t hear him anymore.

  Standing up straight, I press my back against the trunk of the tree, turning my head to the left and then the right, the silence of the forest around me ominous. A bird flutters and screeches in the boughs overhead, making me nearly jump out of my skin. As I try to get myself back under control, the sound of a twig snapping to my right echoes through the darkness.

  I turn my head and see the silhouette, a shadow moving among the shadows that sets me running again. The gunshot is louder than a cannon and I hear the slug slam into the tree trunk to my left. Then Stavitz is racing after me again, his footsteps heavy in the undergrowth and his breathing ragged. It sounds like he’s breathing down my neck. I expect to feel his hand fall on my shoulder at any moment, but I know the forest distorts sound and that I have a lead on him.

  Even still, I cut to my left and plunge through a thick screen of bushes, then duck behind the tree on my right. Stavitz is yelling my name again and again. I press myself against the tree hard, practically trying to meld with it. Stavitz crashes through the bush I just came through, and as he starts to pass the tree I’m sheltering behind, I drive my foot out, tangling it between his legs.

  Stavitz lets out a surprised cry and drops to the ground with a meaty thud. I don’t know if he is still holding the gun or not, but I step forward, summoning all the strength I can muster, and drive my foot into his midsection. The breath leaves him in a loud whoosh, and he groans. I draw my foot back to deliver another blow, but Stavitz manages to get to his knees. He blocks my kick and thrusts his fist into my stomach.

  The wind driven out of me, I double over, clutching my belly, and try to draw breath. Still wheezing, Stavitz gets to his feet and throws a quick closed fist punch that connects with my nose and drives me backwards. The coppery taste of blood fills my mouth as it flows down my face. I stagger backward, trying to get out of his reach, but Stavitz is on me.

  “K－kill you,” he gasps. “I’ll kill you.”

  He draws his fist back, but before he can deliver a knockout punch, I piston my own fist forward, catching him flush in the throat. A choked and garbled noise bursts from him, and as his face turns purple, he grabs
his throat with both hands. I take a step toward him and do my best impression of an NFL punter, driving my foot straight into his crotch. The noise that erupts from his throat is indescribable, but he does fall to his knees, his eyes comically wide.

  Not content yet, I step forward to throw a haymaker of my own, trying to put him out so I can cuff him, but he has one last surprise for me. Moving lightning fast somehow, I see the dull glimmer of the knife in his hand just before he plunges it into my thigh. The scream that flows from my mouth is primal, filled with as much pain as there is rage.

  Staggering backward, I somehow manage to keep my feet and glare at Stavitz. He’s still on his knees, one hand on his throat, the other on his crotch, unable to draw a deep breath. I grip the hilt of the knife in my leg, but when I try to pull it out, my entire body radiates with a pain so intense, I’m pretty sure being set on fire would feel far better.

  But I limp toward him anyway and find a nice, thick branch on my way. I pick it up and Stavitz looks at me, his eyes wide, his face resigned. He’s out of cards to play and he knows it. Gritting my teeth and every movement making my body howl in pain, I manage to deliver a home run swing. The branch connects with Stavitz’s head, snapping in the process. He slumps over, then falls flat onto his face.

  The momentum of my swing makes me lurch forward, but I’m unable to keep my feet this time. I stumble and fall onto my belly, bellowing in agony as it jolts the knife in my thigh. But knowing the job isn’t done, I grit my teeth and drag my pain-wracked body over to the unconscious form of Stavitz, pull out my bracelets I always keep on me and manage to get him cuffed. Thank God he didn’t do a thorough search when he took me.

  I lay there on my back for a good long while, I don’t even know how long, doing nothing but staring up at the patches of the sky I can see above the thick canopy overhead. Slowly, my breath comes back to me, but there isn’t anything on my body that doesn’t hurt right now. I need to get up and get back to the house so I can call a paramedic, the local LEOs, and my team. I need the medic for my nose, which I’m sure is busted, but more so for the knife. That’s going to take a little rehab. I can feel just how deep it is.

  But most importantly, I need to get up because I need to get back there and set Cassie free. I need to tell her that she is free of that man. And that she can start to heal. The road is going to be long and difficult for her, I know. But her torment is over and she can at least get started down that path. She’s a strong woman, and I know that in time, she’ll come to grips with this and be able to move past it.

  Groaning wildly, and with tears streaming down my cheeks, I struggle to get to my feet, but I make it. Grabbing what’s left of my makeshift baseball bat, I use it to limp back down the path to the Stavitz home.

  Forty

  Criminal Data Analysis Unit; Seattle Field Office

  When I come through the door to the shop, I find Rosie in with my team. They all get to their feet and give me a standing ovation. Feeling my cheeks flush with heat, I look away and lean heavily on the crutch I’m using to get around these days. It won’t be forever, but until the muscle Stavitz cut in my thigh heals fully, I’m going to have trouble getting around. So, I won’t be kicking in any doors for a little while.

  Between my thigh, my bruised ribs, and my nose, which is still throbbing two weeks later, I’m a hot mess. Technically, I probably shouldn’t be back in the shop yet, but I can’t stay at home any longer. I’m going out of my mind with boredom. There is only so much trash TV one person can take.

  “So, you decided to stop milking your wounds, huh?” Astra grins as she helps guide me to a chair in the bullpen and sits me down.

  She’s flippant about it in front of everybody else, but she’s barely left my side these last couple of weeks. My aunt and Maisey have been by often as well. Maisey, of course, wanted to know all of the gory details and forced me to tell her. Several times. My aunt was her usual stoic and disapproving self. She mentioned that I wouldn’t have such wounds if I had a more normal job. But she did say she was glad that I was alright and would be back on my feet again soon.

  “Yeah well, I figured I needed to get back in here to see what damage you miscreants have been causing while I’ve been out,” I say.

  “We haven’t touched off World War III, so I’d say you can count that as a win,” Astra quips.

  “It wasn’t for lack of trying though,” Rick chimes in.

  “You can thank me for us not going to DEFCON1,” Mo adds.

  “Thank you. I’m glad to have a shop to come back to, guys,” I say with a laugh.

  “How are you feeling?” Rosie asks as she steps over to where I’m sitting.

  She lays a gentle hand on my shoulder and looks down at me. I can see the concern in her eyes, as well as the relief.

  “I’m good. Stiff and sore, but I’m good,” I tell her. “But more importantly, how is Cassie doing? I haven’t talked to her in a couple of days.”

  “I saw her yesterday,” Astra says. “She’s still in the hospital, but she’s getting better. They’ll probably discharge her in the next couple of days.”

  “Good. We should be there when they let her out,” I say.

  “That girl is tough. Very tough,” Rosie says. “But she’s going to have a long road ahead of her. She’ll never be the girl she was before Stavitz took her again. But hopefully she can get back to some semblance of normal.”

  “Here’s hoping,” I nod. “She’s a survivor. She did what she had to do to survive that bastard.”

  “And that’s not even counting the pain she’s going to have to deal with given that her fiancé was murdered by that animal,” Mo says.

  “Speaking of Stavitz,” I say. “What’s the latest?”

  “He’s being charged with a whole slew of crimes,” Rosie says. “Nine counts of murder, nine counts of kidnapping, one of attempted murder – you. He’s never going to see the light of day again.”

  “Good. He shouldn’t,” I say. “There’s part of me that wishes I would have put him in the ground out there.”

  “Nah. That’s not you,” Astra says. “Way too goody two shoes for that. If it had been me…”

  “I don’t need to hear anything like that,” Rosie announces, arching her eyebrow at Astra.

  “Forget I said anything.”

  “I will. Until one of your suspects ends up dead.”

  “If one of my suspects ends up dead, it’s Mo’s fault.”

  “Hey!” Mo exclaims.

  Rosie steps to the front of the bullpen and looks at us all. She looks at us like a proud mother.

  “Since I have you all here, I thought I’d pass on the congratulations of the Director,” Rosie says. “He was very impressed with your performance and the fact that you took a monster like Stavitz off the street.”

  We all give ourselves a well-earned round of applause. I’m surprised the Director heard about our case, but I suspect that Rosie had something to do with that. It’s nice to get the accolades from the top.

  “So, not to be the materialistic cretin of the bunch, but does that word of congratulations come with a raise?” Rick asks with a wide smile on his face.

  “No, but it does mean you get to keep your job,” Rosie says with a laugh. “And on a personal note, I have to admit that I had some reservations about this team when Blake put it together.”

  Laughter ripples around the room as we all acknowledge that we all had the same reservations. I certainly did.

  “But your performance in this case was exemplary. Truly exemplary,” Rosie says. “I couldn’t be prouder of you all. And I really appreciate the fact that you all are making me look so good so quickly. I will, of course, be taking full credit for your successes. I figure I’ll just put that out there up front.”

  We all laugh and applaud. Rosie is the last person on the planet who would ever steal credit from somebody. But personally, I think she should get some of it. She’s given us the leash and the freedom to operate as we see fit.r />
  “So, fantastic job everybody,” Rosie says, then turns to me, a sly grin on her face. “And I did receive a call from SPD Deputy Chief Torres.”

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t suppose he was calling to congratulate us, huh?”

  She laughs. “Hardly. He was very upset that you stole his task force’s thunder. Apparently, they were closing in on the killer and were days away from an arrest.”

  We all laugh and make obscene gestures and noises to show what we think of that. I love the fact that we not only solved the case and got a killer off the streets but managed to make Torres and his SPD compatriots look really bad. Word leaked out about their task force and its ineffectiveness. It’s been a hot topic around City Hall for the last week or so. The heat on the SPD brass is burning pretty high.

  “I don’t suppose any of you know how word of the task force leaked to that crime blogger, Marcy something or other, do you?” Rosie asks.

  We all look around at each other, shrugs and expressions of innocence all around. Rosie just looks at us, a small grin on her lips, the knowledge that it was one of us etched into her face.

  “Let me just say this once,” Rosie goes on, “leaking information to the media is a no-no. Not even when it’s leaked to make the SPD look bad, which is always nice to see. But still, it’s a no-no. So if anybody, at any point, is tempted to leak something to the media, let me just say, don’t.”

  “Yes ma’am,” we all say in unison.

  “Okay good. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s order in some lunch to celebrate the win,” Rosie says.

  We order a buffet from the Golden Sun, and I call Detective Lee to see if he wants to join us, but he declines. I kind of knew he would. But we all sit around talking, laughing, and having some fun with each other. The camaraderie of this team is building and it’s really good to see.