Agent’s Mountain Rescue Page 2

  Taking the offered sheet, Tonya scanned the form. With a smile, she continued, “It looks like everything is in order. If you’d take a seat, I’ll let the director, Dr. Holly, know that you’re here.”

  “Holly Jacobs, PhD,” he said, remembering what he’d seen on the school’s site about the director and owner. “The woman who wrote that book.”

  Tonya nodded. “You can’t believe how excited everyone was about Holly’s book. The local paper did a cover story on ‘Dr. Holly’ when she came back, too.” She put finger quotes around the director’s name. “You know, local girl turned famous author who came home and all that. It was a big deal when Saplings opened.” Tonya beamed. “Have you read the book?”

  “No chance yet,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I’ve been busy with the move and all.”

  In his mind’s eye, he had about a million questions he could ask her. How to be a better father, for one. How to make sure he never dropped the ball for his daughter. And maybe he would ask—one day, at least. But not now, since he was running tight on time.

  “If you could have a seat,” said Tonya, indicating a row of folding chairs next to the wall.

  Liam checked his watch. Damn. He’d never make it to work on time. After removing the phone from his pocket, he typed out a quick text to his new boss, Marcus Jones.

  Morning’s crazy. Be there soon.

  He didn’t bother to add, I hope.

  In all honesty, Liam didn’t mind a few more minutes with Sophie. Before Erin’s deployment, spending time with his daughter meant he saw her twice a week for dinner—if he was in town. Sophie also stayed overnight at his place twice a month—again, if he was available.

  It had given them time together, but Liam’s job had kept him from being a full-time dad. Erin was a great mom, but he’d always regretted not being around more.

  All of that was in the past.

  Now it was the two of them against the world. Enrolling Sophie at Saplings was his first official decision as a parent.

  Liam had to trust that he’d made the right one.

  He wanted her in the best school possible and Saplings had sterling recommendations. The fact that they had room for Sophie in the program had been a relief.

  “I’ll let the director know that you’re here. It’ll just be a minute,” Tonya said.

  Liam looked at his daughter. For Sophie’s sake, he’d get with the program. With a long exhale, he dropped into a wobbly metal chair. Out of all the challenges that he had faced in his life, Liam knew that single parenthood promised to be the most difficult.

  * * *

  “Good morning, my happy saplings. Today is blue day.” Dr. Holly Jacobs smiled at the dozen children in the classroom. Like all of the other teachers and staff in the building, Holly wore a blue Saplings shirt and khaki pants. For her, the uniform created a cohesiveness among the team.

  Not only was she the director of the school, but Holly also taught the class of three-year-olds. She loved that teaching allowed her to spend time with the kids. More than that, it saved her from having to come up with the money for another salary. And really, it’s not that she minded doing triple duty as business owner, administrator and teacher. Saplings was Holly’s passion project, and she never would have guessed how much passion really cost.

  Or the number of debts she’d incur while trying to live her dream.

  “I need everyone to find a carpet square,” she continued to her class. “Then meet me at the weather board.”

  There was a flurry of activity as the children each found a square of bound carpeting and a place on the floor. The door opened, and Holly’s assistant, Tonya, stepped into the room. Her dark eyebrows were drawn together, and her lips were pressed into a thin line.

  One look at her assistant and Holly’s morning coffee roiled in her stomach. What had gone wrong this time? she wondered. Another leak in the roof? A hot-water heater that needed to be replaced? Please, don’t let it be an outbreak of chicken pox.

  “Give me one minute, children,” Holly said as she stepped toward Tonya. “What is it?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

  “The new family is here.” Tonya held out the enrollment form. “It’s a father with his daughter. She’s a three-year-old, so she’d be in your class.”

  Holly was always happy to have a new student. She scanned the paper and found the father’s name. “Can you ask them to wait in my office? I’ll be with them in just a minute.”

  “Well...” said Tonya. “He keeps checking his watch. You might not want to keep him waiting too long.”

  Holly looked at the class and back to the form. She couldn’t afford to lose a student, not with all the repairs that the building still needed.

  “Don’t worry,” said Tonya. “I can cover the class. He and his daughter are in the reception area. You go and meet the dad.”

  Was it Holly’s imagination, or had Tonya put a special emphasis on the word dad.

  “What is it that you aren’t telling me?” Holly asked.

  “Oh, you’ll see soon enough.”

  Striding down the short hallway, Holly read the sheet. Name: Sophie Alexander. Age: three. Father: Liam Alexander. Legal guardian: Liam Alexander. Emergency contact: again, he listed his cell number, not another person who could be contacted, like most other parents. Occupation: Private Security. The home address he’d listed was in a nice neighborhood on the south side of town. Time at residence: one week.

  Rounding the corner to the front entrance, Holly looked up and stopped short.

  Early morning sunshine streamed in through the glass doors. The beams of light captured a man in shadow. Even without the benefit of seeing his face, Holly could tell that he was large and muscular. He moved, stepping out of the light.

  Brown hair skimmed the collar of his shirt. His shoulders were broad, and his arms were powerful. He wore cargo pants in olive drab and a black T-shirt that clung to his well-muscled arms. Despite his contemporary clothes, it wasn’t hard for Holly to imagine him as a gunslinger from a long-forgotten age.

  A little girl stood at his side and held on to her father’s leg. She wore a pink dress with gray stripes and a cartoon of a cat wearing a tiara.

  “You must be Liam Alexander,” Holly said, trying to ignore her rapid pulse and the fluttering butterflies that had suddenly materialized in her stomach.

  “Nice to meet you.” Liam gave her a pleasant smile. Good Lord, did the man really have a dimple? Holly swallowed.

  Liam’s gaze flicked to the watch on his wrist before returning to her face.

  Tonya had been right, Liam was running late. Yet, to what? Work? His intake form had several blank spaces, including the one where he listed his employer and their phone number.

  She couldn’t help but wonder why. Was there a secret he was keeping?

  Kneeling before the little girl, Holly said, “I’m Dr. Holly. I’m going to be your new teacher. Your name is Sophie, right?”

  The girl nodded. She had brown hair and dark eyes like her father, and seemed sweet and quiet.

  “So, what does this interview process involve?” Liam asked.

  “I usually give a tour of the facility and go over a typical school day. In the interest of time, let me show you Sophie’s class,” she said, leading the way down the hall. “I can point out the need-to-know areas on the way. Tonya, our greeter, is in charge of after-hours care.” Holly recalled the empty spaces on the form. Did he know anyone at all in Pleasant Pines? “Tonya’s also helped some families with overnight care—if that’s ever a need. Oh, and I need to ask about the emergency contact.”

  “What about it?”

  “You don’t have anyone listed,” said Holly. “We need someone to call in case of an emergency and we can’t get a hold of you. For the sake of the form, can I list a relative? Or maybe a neighbor?”

  “We
just moved here from San Diego. I don’t know anyone in town, and family is too far away to be quick help.”

  “I see,” said Holly. Yet, she thought that there was likely more to Liam Alexander’s story than he had shared.

  Opening the door to the classroom, Holly stepped inside. “What do you think, Sophie? Will you like being a part of this class?”

  A mural of a forest filled with smiling pine trees took up one wall. A book nook was tucked into one corner, and a puzzle table sat in the corner opposite. Between the two were several round tables, where children gathered during snack time and when she taught a lesson.

  Another student, Ava, approached Sophie. “Hi. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Sophie. What’s your name?”

  “Ava.” Holding out her hand, Ava asked, “You want to be friends?”

  Sophie looked from Ava to her father and back to the other child. Letting go of her father’s hand, she said, “Okay.”

  Holly couldn’t help but smile.

  Turning to Liam, Holly said, “I’m sure you saw this on the website, but we have a strict pickup time for late care. Six o’clock sharp.”

  “Six o’clock,” he repeated. “Got it.” Dropping to his knee, Liam pulled Sophie into a hug. He whispered, “Baby girl, Daddy loves you and I’ll see you at the end of the day. Be good for Dr. Holly, okay?”

  “Bye-bye, Daddy,” she said, returning the hug.

  Liam stood and turned to go, but not before taking one last look at the class. Holly’s throat tightened, and her eyes burned with his final glance. For a single second, the man’s terse exterior slipped away, leaving a different person in his place.

  The question was—what kind of man was he, really?

  * * *

  Liam broke more than one speed limit as he raced to the headquarters of Rocky Mountain Justice. The drive was less than five minutes, yet it gave him time to think. The nervousness he’d felt since dropping his daughter off at school was finally gone. Sophie had made a friend and seemed settled and happy when he left. Then his mind wandered to Sophie’s beautiful teacher, Holly Jacobs.

  He thought of her leading them down the hall, and the image of her curves made his breath catch. Reddish-golden hair fell around her shoulders. Her lips were full. Her eyes were the color of the Pacific Ocean.

  In reality, it didn’t matter how attractive he found her. He couldn’t think about hitting on Sophie’s teacher—that was just asking for trouble.

  Shaking his head, Liam skidded to a stop in front of a Victorian-era mansion. He checked the address he’d been given. He was at the right place. The house looked like any other well-kept home on a street of similar residences. It was at odds with what he knew about Rocky Mountain Justice. They described their outfit as private security, but he knew better. They were mercenaries...perhaps with a bit of a conscience. A group of highly professional, well-trained operatives.

  As he approached the front stoop, Liam noticed a small camera, just the size of a dime, set into the molding around the door. Before he could touch the knocker, a disembodied voice said two words. “It’s unlocked.”

  The latch gave a soft click and Liam turned the handle. He entered the foyer, which had been transformed into a holding cell, complete with a reinforced steel door. The door slid open.

  A tall man with a shaved head, dark brows and dark eyes stood on the threshold. Liam had never met Marcus Jones, but recognized him from the interviews they’d conducted via Skype. Marcus wore a black button-up shirt, open at the neck and jeans. “Welcome,” the other man said as he checked his watch. A not so subtle way to let Liam know that he’d been late.

  Liam said, “It was a rough morning.”

  “I actually wanted you here two weeks ago.”

  “You have me now.” Liam wasn’t willing to give any excuses. Sure, when he worked for the government, he could be deployed anywhere throughout California in a matter of hours—if not minutes. But that was when Erin was the custodial parent.

  Marcus seemed mollified by Liam’s words and explained that the old house had been modified for security and to serve as a tactical hive. Liam’s new boss approached the closest door and entered a five-digit code. From there, his face was scanned. The lock clicked, and he pushed the door open. It led to a standard conference room, where a man waited at a large wooden table.

  The back wall was covered with local maps. Areas had been outlined with a red marker. There were also aerial photos, connected to the map with pushpins and strings.

  Several pictures of a woman filled one wall. She sported long blond hair in most of them, but in a few of the photos she was a brunette. Those pictures were surrounded by dozens of other images of men. Were these all the victims of the notorious serial killer?

  “Is this her?” said Liam, gesturing to a picture of the woman. “Darcy Owens? The person who you hired me to find.”

  “It is,” said Jones. “How much have you been told about her?”

  Liam shrugged. “I’ve read the case file. Her first victims—” he gestured to the photos on the wall “—were found in Las Vegas, linked because she left a ripped two-dollar bill with each. She seemed to go dormant until she showed up in Pleasant Pines and began killing again. After her identity was discovered, she escaped into the woods, with a gunshot wound in the shoulder. And she hasn’t been found yet.”

  “You’ve obviously done your homework,” said Marcus.

  Liam shrugged. “I spent four years in the Marines. The Corps taught me to always show up prepared. I’m here to do a job. I figured I should be up to speed.”

  Marcus gestured to the conference table. “Have a seat and let me introduce you to Wyatt Thornton.”

  Liam dropped into an empty chair at the head of the table.

  Wyatt said, “I’m new to Rocky Mountain Justice, too. I retired from the behavioral science unit with the FBI and came back to work to find Darcy Owens.”

  Liam took one look at the guy—pressed button-up shirt and khaki pants, complete with a razor-sharp crease—and smothered a groan.

  Lifting his chin, he said, “Hey. Good to meet you.”

  Wyatt Thornton’s eyes narrowed with a quick look of dislike, which was gone as quickly as it had come. “Same.”

  Work as a tracker tended to make Liam a cog in a greater machine. When a person went missing, a battalion of personnel was called in for the search. Pilots. Law enforcement. Medical personnel.

  When it came down to it, though, Liam worked best alone. Always a step or two ahead of the rest, he followed the signs left behind by the people he was trying to rescue—even if, too often, a different outcome was the end result of his search.

  It was more than the solitude that he sought. Really, he hated egos. His own notwithstanding.

  People with too much confidence made mistakes. He’d learned that firsthand. And his first impression of Marcus Jones and Wyatt Thornton was that these two men had confidence to spare.

  Still, Liam refused to think of joining RMJ as a mistake. He’d uprooted his daughter’s life to be here and he was determined to make this job work.

  Without another word, Wyatt began the briefing. “Darcy Owens has been an active serial killer for over five years. We have verified a dozen victims but suspect there may be more. Until now, there haven’t been many documented female serial killers. From my evaluation, she’s one of the most devious people this agency has ever encountered—manipulative enough to convince a man to take his own life.”

  True, knowing all about a person was a key to finding them. Every good tracker took in as much information about a subject as possible. The details, large and small, could help predict how they would act in any given environment. But there was more to tracking than knowing about the target, and Liam itched to get started.

  Because once he got into the woods, it was only him and the killer.

&nb
sp; Chapter 2

  Liam was lost in his thoughts, the map on the wall having captured his attention. He could clearly imagine the terrain. He’d conducted search and rescue operations in every imaginable climate, yet the woods and the mountains were his favorite. It was where he felt most at ease.

  If the query was still in the woods, Liam would find them—even if they didn’t want to be found.

  Marcus cleared his throat, drawing Liam back into the conference room. “Since you’re new to the team here,” he said, “I’d like your thoughts.”

  Taking a deep breath, Liam said, “As far as I can tell, this is simply a mathematical problem.”

  “How so?” Marcus asked.

  “In mountainous terrain, a healthy, well-trained and well-equipped mountaineer can travel seven to eight miles in a day. But we know that the killer was injured and had no survival skills.” He stood and moved to the wall, placing a finger on the pushpin that represented the last known location of Darcy Owens. Turning to the two men, Liam asked the one question that had bothered him since being contacted. “Why is Rocky Mountain Justice looking for a serial killer, anyway?”

  “The district attorney’s office is in charge of the case and she hired RMJ,” said Marcus.

  “Why wouldn’t the DA work with the FBI?” Liam asked. “Or the state police? An at-large serial killer seems like a pretty big priority for law enforcement to ignore.”

  “They’re still following up on any lead that comes in,” said Wyatt. “But after all this time, they assume that Darcy’s dead or, somehow, she left the area.”

  “You don’t think the same thing?” Liam asked.

  Marcus answered the question. “We’re conducting an independent investigation. We don’t have as many rules, so we can follow up on leads immediately.”

  “If she’s still alive,” said Liam. “She must have had help.”