Danger in Numbers

by Heather Graham

Hunter frowned.

  He’d tackled Pastor Jared Colby.

  Colby opened his eyes and stared up at Hunter.

  “Special Agent Forrest?” he asked.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Hunter demanded.

  “I’m just trying... I don’t know what happened. My boys are good boys. I thought... I thought that I could help people... But I couldn’t reach Jayden and Chase, and then Jayden texted to tell me that he didn’t want to talk to me, that I was a fake, and he knew a true man of God, and I thought that if I could just see them that I could...could make them understand!”

  Hunter stood, pulling the man to his feet. Roger was there, quickly frisking Colby down.

  “Unarmed,” Roger said.

  “How did you know to be here, out in the forest?” Hunter asked him.

  “Casey called me. She said that she learned that her brothers were in a place called Maclamara. I didn’t want to walk right in. I thought that if I could see what was happening, I’d have a better way to reach them.”

  There were tears in the man’s eyes; he appeared to be completely earnest.

  But Hunter had seen those who could fake any emotion. He just didn’t know. There had been murders committed beneath the man’s nose. He had befriended Ethan Morrison. And Casey Colby might well have been the one to set up Amy.

  “What the hell do we do?” Roger muttered.

  Hunter looked at his old friend, the man who had once saved him.

  But this was his call. And he made it. “We can’t drag him along.”

  “Just let me see my boys,” Colby said, sagging against the hold Hunter had on him. “I swear to you, they’re not bad. They’re not murderers!”

  “You want me to hold him?” Roger said.

  “Get him across to the other side of the road, where the other agents are. See that one of them takes him, keeps him safe—and away from the action here.”

  “But my sons!” Colby protested. “I will die if that’s God’s will today, but please let me see my boys before I do!”

  “If you’re telling the truth and you walk in on what’s planned today, they’ll kill you before you see your sons,” Hunter said flatly.

  “I’ve got him,” Roger said.

  “Thanks.”

  Hunter pulled out his phone and reported the situation to Garza.

  Then he nodded to Roger and left the two behind, heading closer to the biker bar and the cabin that stood somewhere in the woods behind it.

  * * *

  Amy watched Zeke. He rubbed his chin, still looking deflated as he stood in front of the cabin.

  She was surprised to feel sorry for him.

  He’d killed people; she knew now that he had been one of the people to brutally kill two women.

  But she had seen just how he was treated himself, how he had probably been groomed since birth to consider himself superior to others—and to believe in his father’s words and his father’s ways.

  He straightened and stared at the ground as if seeking any sign of footprints. He looked into the woods, a mask of weary determination coming over his face.

  And then he started in Amy’s direction.

  She had to lead him away from Billie, and fast; others would soon be out, searching high and low for her and Billie.

  Carefully, she turned and sought a trail that would lead to the south and the west, closer to the town of Maclamara itself, but farther from Billie.

  She paused and looked back.

  Yes, he was following her, and yes, he was carrying a handgun. She wasn’t sure of the make and model, but she was sure that he knew how to use it.

  She needed more time! Time was something that she didn’t have much of.

  Keep going, and walk into a possible nest of vipers?

  Stop now, take her chance, possibly take one of their number out?

  Zeke Morrison was probably good with a gun, but he might not be so accomplished when it came to anything else. He’d been taught that men were superior in power and strength. She’d depend on that.

  Finding a position, she flattened herself against an oak along the trail, one all but buried in the dripping moss that made so much of this area beautiful and charming.

  She waited and watched.

  He came along the trail, pausing every few steps to listen.

  She gripped the hook tightly in her hand, ready.

  It seemed forever that Zeke Morrison just stood there, listening.

  Then he moved again. And he walked by the tree.

  Amy took a swing.

  * * *

  “Come and see!”

  Hunter paused by a sign beneath the heavy branches of a birch. Here, along this trail, the trees rose high and their branches met over the trail, creating a natural archway. The sunlight was dappled along the trail, only breaking through the covering leaves in spots.

  The sign led toward the end of the arch.

  He hadn’t found the cabin, but he had found their place of ceremony. And when he had opened the second seal, I heard the second beast say, “Come and see!”

  Creeping along silently, he carefully slid closer to observe the preparations.

  He saw a group of women gathered with small children; a few older men had brought folding chairs and sat together talking. Older children ran through fallen leaves.

  The town’s population was about two hundred people; it seemed half of them were already in the forest clearing, where, in the center, there was a bizarre altar. It was formed out of coral rock.

  There was a strange insignia etched into the altar. Slashes, with hooked ends. Like those on the faces of the murdered women.

  The altar was made to look like the devil or a demon. Hunter could only figure that the congregants believed that the killings were to saturate evil with blood, and thus rid them of evil while cleansing a soul that could then rise to heaven.

  Most of the people looked as if they were prepared for nothing more than a sunny day, a community outing. Much as they had appeared at the barbecue.

  But around the perimeters, he saw that there were armed men.

  Colby’s boys were among them, and the younger of Morrison’s sons, Aaron.

  The massive bartender, the man he now knew to be Gilbert Bowles, was with them.

  So, who was tending the bar? Hunter wondered.

  He counted. At least ten men were carrying different handguns and rifles.

  He slipped back into the woods.

  * * *

  Success!

  Sad success, but success.

  Zeke Morrison was down on the ground, moaning.

  And bleeding. Amy had caught him right where the stomach met the rib cage. He wasn’t dead, though he was bleeding a lot.

  She wasn’t a doctor; she didn’t know what kind of damage she might have caused.

  Finish him, she thought briefly.

  No. She could defend herself, but she couldn’t kill a wounded man.

  And, in his state, he wasn’t getting up again to come after her. He could tell others what she had done, but that didn’t matter. They were looking for her as it was, with orders to kill on sight.

  She left him where he lay.

  In her heart, she knew that Hunter and others were out there. Somewhere.

  But which way?

  She moved deeper and deeper into the woods, making sure that she was leading anyone who might follow her away from Billie’s hiding place, high up on the old oak.

  * * *

  Hunter went back the way he had come. He found a break in the branches and leaves, and looked at the sky, finding the sun. He glanced at his watch and then at the sky again, hoping his sense of direction was good.

  As he headed in the direction in which he truly prayed he would find the cabin, he shared a text conversation with
Garza, reporting on the position of the people and the altar, and warning him about the firepower they would meet.

  He stopped just as he pocketed his phone.

  His heart leaped to his throat. There was something, or someone, ahead of him on the path. From his distance, he couldn’t be sure, but it sure as hell looked like a human body.

  Hunter moved with care, barely breathing.

  Praying.

  Inching through the woods, he spotted the cabin—two hundred yards or so beyond the bundle of human being that lay in his way.

  He heard groans and instinctively knew that it wasn’t Amy on the ground.

  Even a groan had a timbre to it. The prone figure was male.

  He hurried to see that Zeke Morrison, curled in a fetal position, lay on the ground.

  Covered in blood.

  A metal hook protruded from his body.

  Hunter hunkered down; the injured man was in too much pain to pay him any heed. His eyes were closed as he moaned and twitched, clutching his stomach.

  Again, Hunter called in. He reported that he’d found Zeke Morrison and the cabin.

  The man on the ground managed to speak. “Who... You’ll die, you’ll die...” A sound almost like bitter laughter escaped him. “No, I’m dying...dying. You’ll die, too, but... I wasn’t supposed to die. What is heaven? Why don’t I believe in the rewards? I’m in agony. I’m dying, I think. I wish I could feel it, my rewards for all on earth...but I don’t. Just pain...”

  Hunter only knew Zeke through pictures and the few times he’d seen the man in a crowd, but Zeke Morrison seemed to know that he was law enforcement.

  “She’s gone. You won’t find her. But they will. The little immigrant girl, they’ll get her eventually. But they’re looking for the agent—they’ll kill her.” He laughed again. “She’s out of the cabin. My asshole father—the Divine Leader! He blames me...and he’s the one who barely tied the immigrant to the hook. The hook...she got me with the damned hook.”

  Hunter didn’t respond to him. He stood. Garza would have more agents slipping through the woods. They would find Zeke Morrison. EMTs were already on the way.

  If his life could be saved, they would save him.

  He’d tried to kill Amy, Hunter knew.

  And she had taken him down instead.

  But how long could she last in the woods with every member of this community on the lookout for her?

  With orders to kill.

  * * *

  Amy moved as carefully as she could through the labyrinth of trees and brush, listening, watching.

  Armed men were out looking for her. Yes, they would all be men. Ethan Morrison had a place for women, and a woman’s place would not include her having a gun, or even being trusted on such a mission as this.

  Ethan Morrison had a place for everyone. His sons should have inherited an empire; he had taught them to love money and power and all that it could buy. He had taught them to kill.

  What about Jared Colby’s sons? Their father was, she believed, if anything, naive. He wanted the best in people. He believed in the best in people. What had happened to his sons?

  And his daughter? Was Casey in on all this, or was she just a pawn?

  So yes, men with guns were looking for her. But she knew that by now, Hunter would be out here, too.

  She just had to stay hidden until she found the right people.

  Not really knowing the terrain, she found that she had doubled back. She was not far from the cabin and not far from the biker bar. Close to the tree where she had left Billie.

  She decided that it wouldn’t hurt to check on Billie, to remind her to stay still, and to hang tight. Help was coming.

  At first, she thought that she had the wrong tree.

  She was in a forest, after all.

  Trees could look a hell of a lot alike.

  But she knew this was the tree where she had left Billie. And Billie was no longer there.

  She prayed that the right people had found the terrified girl.

  But just as that hope went through her mind, Amy heard a voice. It seemed to move through the forest like a gust of wind.

  “Amy... Amy Larson!”

  It wasn’t Hunter, she knew that immediately. And it wasn’t anyone with the FBI, the FDLE or any other law enforcement agency.

  It was a strange husky sound as it came to her. As if the speaker was trying to be quiet on the one hand and heard on the other.

  “I have her, Amy. Special Agent Amy Larson. You are so very special, aren’t you? But you lost. You don’t have Billie. I have her. Ah! If only you were a normal woman! It seems that the Lord cast down kindly upon your face and figure yet offered you no knowledge of humility. But I do believe that you took an oath of office—you’re sworn to protect people, aren’t you? And I have Billie!”

  The whisper seemed to ring through the leaves and become part of the rustle of the forest.

  “Come out, Amy, come out. Come and see, come and see!”

  Anger overrode fear.

  She wanted very much to smack Ethan Morrison in his smug face, and tell him that his interpretation of the Bible was skewed, at best.

  And she was furious with herself. Sure, she’d downed Zeke Morrison, but he was just sad, so sad. For a fleeting moment, she wondered about using the man’s son against him, shouting out that she had Zeke, what did he think of that?

  Nothing, she knew. A man like Morrison might let his son die in his quest to achieve his own agenda.

  And did she have Zeke?

  She was back at the tree where she’d left Billie, and to have reached that spot, she’d passed the trail where she’d taken Zeke down with the hook.

  Carefully, she moved back, following her footsteps, finding that place where she had hidden before, waiting for Zeke.

  He wasn’t there.

  Squatting down, she discovered blood drops on the trees and blood saturating part of the ground.

  Zeke was gone.

  Morrison had taken Billie; he had her for sure. That was why he could be so mocking in his whisper.

  He had to know by now that officers and agents would be searching for her.

  Did he care? Did he have an escape plan, and had he set another in motion for all those who had followed him to die, either through a gun battle or suicide?

  “Come out, Amy. Come and see!”

  She could follow the sound of the whisper. And walk right into someone waiting for her along the way.

  But if other agents were in the forest as she suspected, they would be following the sound of the whisper, as well.

  She waited, dead still, listening.

  “I’m going to start cutting Billie very soon, Amy. Or you can be the very special ‘special’ agent you’re supposed to be and give me your life for hers!”

  Amy began to move in the direction from which she thought the whisper was coming.

  Slowly. So slowly. Carefully, looking ahead with every step—and then behind her, as well.

  She knew it was coming; she was prepared when a young man stepped out in front of her, grinning, a shotgun aimed at her chest.

  It was Jayden Colby.

  “You’re not going to shoot me,” she told him calmly.

  “No?” he demanded, but a frown furrowed his brow. “You—you’re coming with me. I am going to shoot you if you don’t get right in front of me and walk.”

  “No.”

  “I will kill you!”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t test me!” he said, swearing softly.

  “You’re not a murderer,” she told him.

  “Get in front of me—and walk.”

  He waved the gun in front of her. Amy shrugged and slowly turned her back to him. And then she spun as quickly as she could, slamming the shot
gun hard against him.

  He fell back; the shotgun fell.

  Amy lunged for the gun, grabbing it up as Jayden staggered forward, and she slammed the stock against his skull.

  He fell flat on the forest floor without so much as a whimper.

  “Amy!”

  She heard her name called again. She picked up the shotgun and started forward.

  * * *

  The whisper was eerie; Hunter didn’t have to wonder from what direction it was coming.

  He did wonder if the man knew—he had to suspect, at the least—that law enforcement was in the forest.

  But he didn’t have Amy. If he did, he wouldn’t be calling out to her.

  He did, apparently, have the missing Billie.

  Whispering softly himself, he hit speed dial to reach Garza.

  “I’ll have men positioned,” Garza said wearily. “I fear a bloodbath.”

  “I will do everything in my power, sir, to see that such a thing doesn’t happen. But we need to move into the clearing. Whatever he’s planning, it’s about to happen. He might not have committed any of the murders thus far, but he plans on killing now. And, I believe, to be as open as he is now, he thinks he has an escape plan.”

  “Do you think Amy will go after the voice?” Garza asked.

  “Yes. She’ll try to save Billie,” Hunter said. “Even if she knows that he’ll kill them both, she’ll follow that whisper.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “I’m moving back there now,” Hunter told him. “Most of the people aren’t armed, but he does have that contingent around the trees.”

  “I’ve ordered a circular route, a man for a man,” Garza told him.

  “Try to take them out before all hell breaks loose.”

  He ended the call and began his careful walk back to the clearing. There would be guards along the way; if they hadn’t been there before, they’d be there now.

  Morrison really wanted Amy dead.

  Ahead, Hunter saw movement. Slight. He stilled. It could have been a possum or raccoon or other denizen of the forest.

  It could have been.

  But it was not.

  An armed man was waiting by the tree, possibly growing bored of being a sentinel. Hunter watched as he shifted his weight back and forth, back and forth. He was armed with an assault rifle.