"We're headed north toward the highway. Once we get there, you're going back. You're going to tell them that I forced you to come with me. Do you understand?"
His eyebrows rose, but he nodded. "I understand."
I took one of the bags off his shoulder and tethered it to the back of my saddle. Then I mounted and started off, not bothering to look behind me to be sure he was following.
Chapter 11
At the Ranch
Agent Miles stood in front of the room on the main floor of the bunkhouse, the room crowded with both Ash's team and Sutherland's. Sutherland herself stood at the back of the room, her thoughts a whirlwind as she listened to his report.
"FBI Agent Grant Kennedy has been a member of the Mahoney Cartel task force since he joined the FBI in 2004. He began as an undercover agent, working closely with members of the cartel's street gang. As time passed, he moved up in the ranks of the cartel, reporting back regularly to the FBI on their activities. It is because of him that we were able to identify key members of the Mahoney's hierarchy.
"Agent Kennedy is a highly-decorated member of the FBI office in Chicago. Unfortunately, we began to notice discrepancies in Kennedy's reports that lead to an investigation into his behavior in regards to the Mahoney Cartel. Eighteen months ago, it was determined that Agent Kennedy was releasing certain information to the cartel in order to help them allude FBI raids and other attempts to arrest the leaders of that organization. It is believed that Kennedy has been passing along information to the cartel since the beginning of his relationship with them."
Agent Miles stopped, waiting for that little nugget of knowledge sink in. Sutherland crossed her arms over her chest, wishing he would just get it over with. She had people in the north pasture that needed to be rescued from whatever was going on. She was anxious to get on with it.
"Agent Abbott and myself have been assigned to investigate Agent Kennedy. We now, with the Mahoney's slipping away from this latest bust, we believe we have the proof we need to show that Kennedy is their source of information. However, when we flew out to Cheyenne to make an arrest, we discovered that he'd left the area. GPS information from his FBI issued cellphone showed that he'd come to Midnight, Wyoming. We tracked him to the Spraberry Motel on the outskirts of town."
This bit of information caused Grainger North to tense. He and his wife ran the Spraberry Motel.
"And, for the past week, GPS data shows him sitting outside the gates of this very ranch."
Sutherland's people glanced at each other. Ash turned and looked pointedly at Sutherland, concern mixed with something else on his face. She had no idea that this was happening, let alone had a guess as to why. This was a working ranch. People came and went almost constantly. And they couldn't keep track of every person who drove past or even parked on the side of the road outside the gates.
"Why?" Kirkland asked.
Miles and Abbott glanced at each other. They knew something and that set off alarm bells inside Sutherland's head. She wasn't stupid. She knew it had to have something to do with one of the people who were on this camping weekend. And the fact that most of the tourists on the trip had only just arrived in Midnight—and the fact that Kennedy had been casing the ranch for a week before this trip—that it had to have something to do with one of her two employees who were up there leading the trip.
Lance was recommended by Ash. He sent his resume to Sutherland with a direct recommendation. He'd checked him out and then Kirkland did a more thorough search on him when they brought him in for an interview. There were no secrets in his past, nothing that might have led to this.
And then Becky...
Sutherland knew in her heart that it was about Becky. The moment these agents told her why they were here, when they told her that there was a man stalking her ranch, she knew it was about Becky.
She wasn't naive. She knew when Becky walked through her gates five years ago, that she was a girl in trouble. And she knew that when Becky innocently asked to be paid off the books that she was running from something. Sutherland assumed there was an abusive boyfriend out there somewhere, so she never asked too many questions and Becky, in her style, had never offered too many answers.
But that wasn't all. When Kirkland began installing all this fancy equipment, when he showed Sutherland how to do basic research, how to do background checks, she'd run one on Becky Kay. It came up empty. It was as though Becky Kay didn't exist.
She knew this was about Becky. And that scared the crap out of her because Becky was her friend. This ranch would fall apart without Becky on it. And her daughter... her daughter was up at Sutherland's house, playing with Sutherland's daughter, living in complete and utter bliss.
How would Sutherland tell her that her mother was in trouble? Or...what if something darker were to happen to Becky? How would Sutherland tell Cassidy that?
Agent Miles seemed to be ignoring Kirkland's question.
"Kennedy flew to Wyoming two weeks ago. We followed in an attempt to catch him speaking directly to members of the Mahoney Cartel's hierarchy. However, he's smart. He told his supervisors back in Chicago he was here on vacation and he did everything he could to make it appear that that was exactly what he was doing. He visited a few museums, visited multiple restaurants, went to a few movies. And then he attended a horse show where he sat with a man who owns a large ranch in Cheyenne. That man also happens to own the warehouse where the raid was to take place. We have reason to believe that is when Kennedy passed on the information about the raid."
Sutherland's heart sank as he confirmed what she'd been afraid to hear. She'd been at that horse show. So had Grainger and Eve. So had Becky.
"It was shortly after that that Kennedy disappeared. GPS data led us here."
The room went completely silent. Kirkland and Hank both looked over at Sutherland, as did Grainger, questions written all over their faces. She knew they'd put it together as she had. And she could see the concern in their eyes.
It seemed obvious to Sutherland. That man had seen Becky at the horse show and followed them back here, followed her back here.
But why? What did he want from her?
"There's one other thing," Miles said, looking directly at Sutherland. "Kennedy logged into the FBI computers from his personal laptop and initiated a warrant against a woman called Vivian Carlotti. Is that name familiar to anyone here?"
It wasn't. All Miles got was blank looks except for those who were once again looking over at Sutherland.
Vivian Carlotti. Was that Becky's real name?
"No one here uses that name? No one among the tourists you sent up to your north pasture?"
"No," Sutherland said. "I gave you the names of everyone who went up there."
"Could your employee, this Becky Kay, be using a false name?"
Sutherland shrugged. "Anything's possible. But why would he initiate the warrant in that way. Is that normal protocol?"
"No," Abbott answered for his partner. "We believe he has an ulterior motive for asking for the warrant—which was denied, by the way."
"So, he's out there looking for this woman without authority?" Sutherland's voice rose a little on the final word. "What are we going to do now? What are you going to do to protect her?"
Agent Miles shook his head. "Our priority is taking Agent Kennedy into custody."
Sutherland stepped forward, fear and anger mixing equally with the pressure in her head.
"If anything happens to my friend—"
Kipling grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "I think what Ms. Knight is saying is that we'd like to take part in the search. It is employees of Gray Wolf Security out there in that pasture. We should have a right to support our people."
Ash walked over and spoke close to Abbott's ear. Miles' eyes narrowed. He was clearly one of those people who preferred to work alone, or, at least, in his own way. He shook his head several times as Abbott pulled him aside and spoke to him. But then he looked over at Ash—clearly in response to som
e comment made by his partner—and reluctantly nodded, his gaze moving over Sutherland.
"We will allow Gray Wolf personnel to assist in the search and rescue of the campers. However, once they are back safe, you will kindly step back and allow us to conduct our business according to FBI protocols. We can't allow anything to interfere with finding Kennedy."
It was the best she was going to get. Sutherland knew that. Yet...
"Not just the campers. We have two people up there, one of which is likely your agent's target." Sutherland made intense eye contact with Miles. "My people are smart. They wouldn't have waited around for him to take one of them without some sort of resistance. We have no idea what we'll find when we get up there."
"Sutherland..." Kipling hissed near her ear.
But then Hank and Grainger moved up behind her.
"We have to insist on being a part of this operation until it's conclusion," Hank announced.
Ash glanced wearily at Sutherland and her operatives, but he nodded.
"Gray Wolf is a unique organization, Larry," he said almost kindly. "You know we've worked successfully with the FBI in the past. We respect your protocols. You'd be better off allowing us to work with you rather than independent of you. But either way, we are a part of this case."
Agent Miles opened his mouth to object. Sutherland could almost hear the words already spilling from the tip of his tongue. But he was clearly an intelligent man. He snapped his mouth closed and nodded.
"Alright. But you will follow our instructions to the letter."
***
It didn't take but half an hour to organize a rescue for the campers up in the north pasture. Sutherland, her operatives, and Ash and his operatives, loaded up the trucks and SUVs they had on hand and drove the six miles into the pasture that the campers had ridden on horseback just the day before. They arrived at the camp an hour after dusk to find the campers huddled together around a fire, biscuits baking in a cast iron skillet down in the coals.
Becky and Lance were nowhere to be found.
Neither was Agent Kennedy.
It was no surprise, but it still gave birth to a sickening fear deep in the pit of Sutherland's belly. She hated to be right, especially in this circumstance.
Sutherland walked down to where the horses were tethered, not surprised to find them all fed and watered, everything in proper condition. Becky never would have left without tending to her beloved horses. Lincoln and Charger were gone as were two of the saddles.
"They couldn't have taken many supplies," she said aloud, aware of Kipling moving up behind her. "It's supposed to be below zero tonight. They'll freeze to death."
"She's clearly a survivor. Just like you."
Sutherland shook her head. "Even a survivor can't survive everything."
He didn't say anything. His silence said everything.
Chapter 12
Lance
I was still mounting my horse as she rode off, her pony tail flying behind her as she urged her horse into a gallop. Or was it a cantor? I was trying to learn about these damn beasts, but it didn't hold the fascination for me the inspiration behind it did.
What the hell was I doing? I was putting myself in the middle of a situation that could lead to jail time. That was an FBI agent back there. But, the thing was, I couldn't believe Becky was capable of doing anything that would send someone like that after her. There had to be a story behind all this and I was determined to find out what it was.
The urged the horse forward. It didn't take much. These horses didn't like watch one of their own run off without them. The other horses were shifting nervously, pulling against their leads. The one I'd mounted—I think its name was Charger—took off in a hurry with just the slightest pressure from the heels of my borrowed boots. I held on for dear life as it rushed to catch up with Lincoln. Becky glanced back once, but she never made an attempt to slow down.
It was already late when we left camp. Darkness came quickly and, with it, the temperature dropped dramatically. I was shivering in my heavy jacket; my cheeks were numb from the air rushing past them. My ears strained to hear the sounds of pursuit, of the four-wheeler that the agent had come on. I never heard it, but that didn't mean it wasn't behind us. The sound was just lost in the whistle of the wind and the pounding of the horses' hooves. It was all I had to keep up with Becky. My body, already sore from the long ride the day before, was screaming for mercy before long. And my lungs... it was like I was the one running. I could barely breathe in the frigid night air.
I wanted to beg her to stop, wanted to tell her this was suicide. But there was determination on her face. She would glance back from time to time, clearly just as concerned as I was that he might be following. There was no sign yet, but we both knew it wouldn't take much for him to suddenly sneak up behind us at any moment.
It seemed like hours that we rode in silence. I didn't know this part of the ranch well—in fact, this was my first foray over here—so I had no idea if we were even still on ranch property. And I had no clue how far we were from any form of civilization. All I knew for sure was that the ranch, the town of Midnight, was all behind us.
Becky slowed her horse as we hit the foothills of a small set of inclines. The area was heavily wooded, much more so than the grove of trees we'd departed. She made her way carefully into the woods, looking around with interest as the horse whinnied with discomfort. I saw her lean forward at one point and whisper to the horse. He calmed down after that. I wished she say to me whatever she'd said to him.
Exhaustion was weighing heavy on my shoulders. I was a soldier. I knew how to perform even when I hadn't rested in days. But this... it was different. The emotional exhaustion mixed with the physical was making it difficult for me to stay focused. I was beyond relieved when she suddenly turned and said, "We'll stop here for the night."
Thank God!
She dismounted and tied the horse's reins loosely to a low branch. I did the same, securing my horse a few feet from hers. Working automatically, I unhooked the saddle and tossed it onto the ground, releasing the saddlebag and carrying it over to where she'd settled at the base of a tree. The cold immediately seeped up through the thin denim of my jeans, causing me to shiver.
"Get your saddle blanket," she said.
With a sigh, I followed her instructions, snatching the blanket from under the saddle and laying it on the ground beside her. Once I was settled again—my ass much warmer this time—she handed me a water bottle that was half frozen in the frigid air and a handful of the trail mix that was one of the few things I'd been able to grab under the watchful eye of the FBI agent. I nibbled a little, even my jaw sore. I don't think I'd ever hurt nearly as much as I did in that moment.
"I guess you have a lot of questions," Becky said.
"I've always had a lot of questions. But, right now, I just want to eat and sleep."
"Fair enough."
There was a little relief in her words. But I was sure I saw a little surprise dance in her eyes, too. If I was her, I'd have spent the entire furious ride trying to figure out how to say what needed to be said. I'd be so well prepared that it would be a shame not to have a chance to put on the performance I'd scripted. Maybe that was the source of the surprise in her eyes. Maybe I'd ruined her carefully planned speech. But I really didn't care why we were running right now. My thighs were burning, my face was numb, my hands felt as though they'd fallen off weeks ago. I just wanted to be warm.
"I'll go find some firewood."
"We can't light a fire."
I looked at her, my turn to be shocked. "What do you mean? It's got to be five below out here!"
"He'll see the smoke."
"But we don't have anything else to keep us warm. I couldn't exactly take down one of the tents and the battery powered heater and sneak it into one of the saddlebags."
"We have that old bedroll. It'll be good enough."
I wanted to laugh. Even she admitted she'd brought it along as a joke—though she ne
ver got around to showing it to the campers. But I overheard her in the barn, I heard her tell Hank she only brought it to show the campers how lucky they were that they lived in the modern world. The bedroll was basically a couple of wool blankets sewn together. They weren't even half as thick as the thermal sleeping bags we'd also left behind at the camp.
I shook my head.
"We'll freeze to death."
"No, we won't. Men survived for decades sleeping in those things. It'll be fine."
She got up and freed the bedroll from the bottom of the saddlebag where it was tied and laid it out on top of our saddle blankets, giving us a little cushion against the frozen ground. Then she slipped out of her jacket and gestured for me to do the same.
"You have got to be insane!"
But even as I spoke the words, I unzipped the jacket and slipped it off. She lay both the jackets on top of the bedroll, then crawled between the thick blankets, scooting over to make room for me beside her. I wanted to laugh. She was completely insane! But I kicked off my borrowed boots, my feet already freezing as I quickly crawled under the blanket beside her. I tried to keep to my side, holding my arms over my chest and my legs tightly together. But I was shivering almost immediately, colder than I'd ever been in entire life. I was pretty much convinced I was going to freeze to death that night.
That's what I got for following a girl into darkness.
We lay like that for a good fifteen minutes, her on her side, me on mine. Our bodies touched—the bedroll was so small we had no choice—but just incidentally. And then she grunted.
"This is stupid. We'll freeze if we don't share our body heat."
She rolled onto her side and slipped her leg over my thigh, her arm sliding across my chest. She rested her head on my shoulder and tugged my arm up over her waist. I still resisted, the feel of her body against mine, the scent of her hair against my nose, doing things to my body I didn't think it was capable of considering the soreness and the cold. But, apparently, it was.
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