Julie Anne Lindsey - Federal Agent Under Fire

Marissa stepped over a fallen branch. “Thanks, but it’s hard not to think about what I could’ve done differently.”

Patchy sunlight filtered through the lush forest canopy. A soft breeze kicked up, lifting scents of shampoo and sweat from Blake’s body.

Marissa shook her thoughts back to the situation at hand. “Can you tell me more about Nash? That’s his name, right?” Her hand moved instinctually to her throat. She blinked through the fresh sting of tears. “I’ve heard you and your brothers use it, but no one’s filled me in on the specifics.”

“I linked Nash to the disappearances of four women about five years ago. The missing women were never recovered, but I know he took them. I saw it in his eyes when I confronted him.” His square jawline popped and clenched. Whatever he wasn’t sharing was painful and Marissa’s heart hurt for him, too.

“What does he look like?” Marissa asked.

Blake cast her a sidelong glance. “I’ll show you a picture when we get back. I would’ve done that at the station but West said you didn’t see the man who attacked you.”

“I didn’t. I thought a description might jar my memory about the man at the lake last summer.”

Blake glanced over his shoulder. “Nash has brown hair and eyes. He’s six foot. Average weight, but no definition. He wasn’t much to look at. No distinguishing marks, scars or tattoos. Of course, that was a while back. A lot could have happened since then.”

“Was he a smoker?”

“Yes.”

Ice curled through Marissa’s body. She’d been in the grips of a serial killer. The bruises on her face and throat throbbed at the thought. She pressed cool fingers against the aching pains.

“I’m going to find him.” Blake’s voice cracked the last ounce of composure Marissa had.

A hot, fat tear broke over her cheek and slid onto her jaw. Then another.

“Hey.” Blake stopped climbing. “Miss Lane.” He caught her trembling hand in his as she took another step without him. He squeezed gently before releasing her.

She swiped shaky fingertips across both eyelids before daring to look back. “I’m fine. Please call me Marissa.”

“You’re not fine, Marissa, but you’re going to be. I’m going to find this guy. I won’t let him get away again.” He lifted a white handkerchief in her direction.

The sincerity in Blake’s voice warmed her, and the sound of her name on his lips settled her fraying nerves. “I know.” She accepted the handkerchief and pressed it to her eyes, thankful for his comforting presence. “Who carries a handkerchief?”

“Me. All of us.” He fumbled for words, clearly uncomfortable telling her something so personal. “My brothers and I.”

Apparently, even that legendary Garrett confidence wasn’t bulletproof. Marissa smiled behind the soft cotton material, enjoying the aromatic blend of Blake’s soap and cologne caught in the wispy fabric. “I see.” She returned his quizzical glance. “Why?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“It’s a long hike.”

Blake turned his face to her and smiled. Not another lazy effort like he’d offered her before, but a true smile that reached his eyes and scaled the years away.

She’d found Blake devastatingly handsome as a straight-faced agent, but the smiling man beneath the badge was so much more. His ability to show such charm and compassion on a day as cursed as this was enough to weaken her knees. “I’d love to know, and honestly, I could use the distraction.”

He paused to look her in the eye. “Our granddad gave those to us when we were small. None of us used them until his funeral a few years back, but we all carried them to the service. That was the day I started bringing mine everywhere.” He looked away, into the forest, seemingly lost in the memory.

“You carry a piece of him,” she mused. “That’s sweet.”

He extended his hand. “Give me my hanky.”

She set the cloth in his hand with a smile. “You aren’t what you seem, Federal Agent Garrett.”

“Folks rarely are.”

Chapter Three

There was nothing to see at the lookout. No clues. No boot prints. It was a five-mile walk for bust. Frustration churned in Blake’s chest as he mentally replayed the morning’s events. Every clue pointed directly to his nemesis, a maniac he’d dedicated years to finding. Where are you, Nash? Blake’s muscles tensed as another terrible thought came to mind. “We need to go.”

“What? Why?” Marissa followed him back down the trail at a clip. “What’s happening? Did you find something?”

Blake slowed his pace by a fraction, adjusting for her shorter gait. “When was the last time you were home?”

“This morning. I left around five.”

He furrowed his brow. “The rose petals.”

“You want to see if he left them on my doorstep.” She bobbed her head in understanding. “Well, that’s completely terrifying.”

Blake slowed further. “You should probably pack a bag while we’re there and make plans to stay with family for a few nights.”

“Do you really think he’d come for me again? He has to know you’re on to him. It was broadcast on the news.”

“He’ll come.”

“But you were standing right beside me on the air.”

“Exactly.”

Marissa marched silently for several paces. “Fine, but I’m not dragging my family into this. I’ll stay somewhere else.”

Blake’s eyes widened. “Haven’t you told them what’s happening?”

“Of course.” She’d called her parents the minute she’d arrived at the sheriff’s department and again while Blake had organized his team. “I told them everything I knew this morning, which was that a lunatic nearly abducted me in the park. Then, I filled them in on the possibility of a fugitive at large and warned my sister to stay out of the park. Dad caught the news, so he knows I’m with you. My sister’s been checking in by text every hour or so to make sure I’m still out here. Still safe.”

Blake scowled. “So, stay with them.”

“And paint a big red X on their door? No thank you. I’m not leading a psychopath straight to my family.”

“Well, you can’t stay at your place.”

“Fine, but I won’t stay with my parents or sister either. That’ll have to be good enough.” Five quiet miles later, she hooked a left at the trail’s base and headed for the parking lot.

Blake fired up his truck and followed her older model mud-soaked Jeep down the county road through town at just over the speed limit until houses faded into farms and farms gave way to forest. She slowed at a partially hidden drive and turned onto a narrow gravel road. His truck bounced and rocked along behind her for several minutes before a small clearing came into view.

A log cabin was situated among the trees with a portion of somewhat flat land serving as her front and back yards. Flower baskets and wind chimes hung from the porch roof and a pair of rocking chairs stood sentinel beside the door.

He met her on the porch, gun drawn. No rose petals, but the front window was open, leaving her sheer white curtains to flutter.

“Do you normally leave this open?”

“No.” Marissa’s fearful gaze was latched to the parted window frame. “I always check the windows before bed, and I didn’t open any this morning.”

Blake ran cautious fingertips around the wooden trim, stopping at the first patch of splintering, a discreet but telltale sign of tampering. He sent a text to West. They needed a deputy for fingerprints. Normally, he’d suggest the deputy talk to Marissa’s neighbors, but she didn’t have any.

Marissa lifted her house key on trembling fingers, and he slid it into the still locked door. With any luck, Nash was hunkered down inside, feeling overly confident and about to be reunited with his maker.