Julie Lindsey - Federal Agent Under Fire

Nash’s mood had changed in an instant. The violence in his expression had morphed into an eerie smile, and he’d sang. The behavior had successfully fractured Blake’s concentration, and in that splinter of a second, while Blake had pondered the mind of a psychopath, Nash dove headlong over the roof’s edge. He’d landed on the shorter building next door with ease and disappeared behind a massive smokestack. For the last five years, he might as well have been the smoke.

The moment should have ended in an arrest. A victory for justice. It should have catapulted Blake’s budding career. Instead, it had put him on a short list of screw-ups. Worse, his mistake had cost those missing women and their families the justice they deserved. That moment had changed his life and caused him to question everything, especially himself.

“And the song?” Blake asked. “She said he sang the song?”

“Yep.” West leaned closer. “Why don’t we go over things in my office?”

“First, I need coffee.” Blake stepped forward.

West’s arm bobbed up like a guard gate, blocking the conference room doorway. “We should talk first.”

Blake stopped to look more closely at his brother. West never said no to coffee. “Why?”

“Well, I guess because Miss Lane’s eager to meet you.” He twisted his mouth into a knot.

“Great.”

West grinned. “She’d like another crack at the man who attacked her. Thinks you can use her help.”

Blake snorted. “I need a lot of things right now, but help from a little blonde woman isn’t one of them. I need coffee and whatever information you gained from her interview, then I’ll stop by the victim’s place after you’ve debriefed me. See if she’s thought of anything else that can help us.”

West shook his head. “I’m trying to tell you she didn’t go home.”

“Parents’ house?”

“Nope.”

“Well, where’d she go?” Blake cocked a hip, resting a restless hand over the butt of his sidearm. “Boyfriend’s place?” That’d be a first. Nash had specifically chosen single women in the past.

West dropped his arm and tilted his head toward the conference room. “She’s waiting for you.”

“What?” He craned his head for a better look through the doorway. “Why didn’t you send her home?” He dropped his voice to a whisper and checked his watch. “Do you mean to tell me she’s been sitting in there for more than two hours? You should’ve driven her home by now.” He pushed West’s arm out of his way and strode into the conference room. Blake stopped short at the sight of a clearly aggravated woman in running gear.

“I’m not a victim,” she said. “Also, the sheriff tried to send me home, but I’m not one to be sent anywhere, especially when I can be useful. Someone’s trolling the park for women, and I can help.” Her disheveled ponytail was hanging on by threads, but her backbone was straight as an arrow.

Blake’s cheek twitched. He cast an uneasy glance at his brother. “This is Miss Lane?”

West smiled. “I tried to get you to go with me to my office.”

The woman was on her feet and moving in Blake’s direction. “I’m Marissa Lane.” She shoved a little hand his way. “It’s nice to meet you, Agent Garrett. I wish it was under different circumstances.”

Blake agreed. Marissa had managed to shock and impress him in under a minute. A task no one had ever accomplished, and Blake had met a lot of people.

“Miss Lane,” he began in his most calming tone. “Thank you for your willingness to help. You’ve undergone an incredible trauma today, but I’d like to ask you a few more questions. Let me know if you need to stop at any point during the interview. We can take a break or pick up tomorrow. Whatever you’d like. I assume you’ve already told the sheriff everything you can recall.”

“I have.” She nodded. “If I understand correctly, you believe the man who attacked me is responsible for taking several women.”

“It’s a distinct possibility, yes. That’s what I’m here to find out.”

“Well, I have no intention of going home until I’ve told you everything I told your brother and accompanied you back to the park. I’d like to show you where it happened.” She shot a pointed look at Blake’s black dress shoes. “I hope you brought a change of clothes.”

Blake dragged his gaze to the space behind him where West was retreating toward his office.

Blake unbuttoned his suit jacket and took a seat at the large oval table in the room’s center, attempting to regain control of the situation. He cleared his throat and turned his face to the spitfire before him. She certainly looked like Nash’s type. Obviously beautiful. Small features. Narrow frame. The clingy blue jogging pants and matching tank top left little to the imagination in terms of her shape. Blake’s hands could easily cover the span of her waist. A very Southern-debutante appeal, but looks were deceiving. He fought a smile as he imagined the shock Nash must’ve had when this little woman kicked his ass.

“Agent?” Her voice drew him back like a slap in the face.

“Sorry.” Blake shifted on his seat and gauged his words carefully. He also did his best to clear a few unprofessional thoughts from his mind. “The man I’m after is six feet tall, and he’s probably got seventy-five pounds on you.” Give or take the few that five years might have delivered.

Marissa crossed her arms. “And?”

Blake’s cheek twitched again. Twice in ten minutes. She was funny. Did she know she was funny? “How’d you do it?”

“I fought.” Marissa lifted a tuft of fallen hair off her cheek and hooked it over one ear, revealing a thick crimson line along her jawbone and faint purple bruising under the corresponding eye. “He grabbed me. Hit me. Choked me. I used my size against him. Would you like a demonstration?”

Somewhere in the next room, West coughed.

Blake gave the shared wall a dirty look before turning his attention back to Marissa Lane. “That won’t be necessary.” He opened a notebook and clicked his pen to life. “Has anyone evaluated your injuries?”

Marissa nodded. “Cole,” she said.

“Good.”

Cole was the youngest Garrett brother, a former army medic and a certified EMT. He was also a medical school dropout, but he hated when the family brought that up.

“West insisted I choose between Cole or a trip to the ER,” Marissa added. “I figured, at least I know Cole.”

Blake nodded, hoping the fact she had no bandages meant the injuries appeared worse than they actually were.

“Why don’t you have a seat and start by telling me what you remember?”

She turned to pace the room. “I remember being grabbed from behind, hit across the face and nearly dragged into the forest. The assailant was your brother’s height, West’s, not Cole’s.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I went to high school with them. Never dreamed they’d become the town sheriff and deputy, but I guess I should have. Whatever happened to Ryder?”

“He’s a US Marshal.”

She cocked an eyebrow, as if to say more on the topic, but shook her head and stayed on task. “The lunatic was singing that old song. ‘Going to the Chapel’.”

Blake tapped his pen against the notepad. He’d have to ask how well she knew his brothers later. He’d left for college before they’d started high school. A curious sense of frustration knotted inside him.

Marissa dropped her arms to her sides. “Did you always want to work for the FBI?”

“No.” The Garretts were a family of law enforcement and everyone in Cade County knew it, but Blake never wanted to be sheriff. Though there was a certain pressure for Blake to conform, he’d wanted to do something bigger than hand out traffic tickets and break up marital disputes. He’d gone as far as to finish his law degree, dreaming of a judgeship, before the allure of a shiny badge had caught up with him. Something about those coveted initials, FBI, had changed his life plan without warning.