Chapter 14
Fourteen
The rich aromas of the Beanery’s white mocha lingered in the SUV long after Aubrey and Stanton left the drive-through, but her favorite drink sat like the proverbial rock in her stomach. Stanton glanced at her as he pulled the government SUV into a spot near the medical building.
Days later, and the fiasco of Renegade Days still echoed everywhere she went.
The failed reenactment. The injured bystanders. The dead judge, along with his housekeeper.
She shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the walking boot on her left foot. This wasn’t her fault. She knew that. The fault belonged to evil men intent on destruction. Or worse.
Still, guilt had a way of finding cracks.
“You okay?” Stanton asked as he cut the engine.
“Just ready to get this over with.” She forced a smile. “I promise I won’t make a run for it.”
Stanton gave a single nod, already scanning the lot. “We’ll be quick. I’ve got you.”
Inside, the waiting room buzzed with low conversation and daytime television. Aubrey lowered herself into a chair and pulled out her phone.
Jenna answered on the second ring. “Tell me you’re still being guarded. That you’re safe.”
“I am,” Aubrey said softly. “Stanton brought me to the doctor. Just for a checkup.”
“Good. Because I don’t trust you not to carry the weight of the world by yourself.”
Aubrey smiled faintly. “You know me too well.”
They talked quietly about the reenactment, the whispers still rippling through town, the things that had gone right even when so much hadn’t. Jenna coaxed laughter out of her, the kind that eased pressure instead of dismissing it.
“I still feel guilty,” Aubrey admitted. “I know I shouldn’t, but…”
She didn’t even want to talk about Ethan and how he’d been hurt last night. Trying to close the case so that she was protected. Rousseau was still out there. And that Frost guy, whoever he was. And Donovan.
God, don’t let anyone else get hurt.
“You didn’t plan the shooting,” Jenna cut in gently. “You didn’t unleash horses through town. You didn’t pull a trigger. You survived.”
“But why me?” Aubrey swallowed. “Why me and not others?”
“Only God can answer that,” Jenna said. “The better question is, what are you going to do with that time He’s given you? Even if your faith is only the size of a mustard seed, that’s still enough. In fact, He said that’s how much we should strive for. We only need a tiny amount.”
Aubrey closed her eyes, letting the words settle. Tiny faith. “I really should go. They should call me back soon.”
“Call me later,” Jenna said. “And Aubrey? You’re not alone anymore.”
“Love you, girl.” Aubrey hung up just as the nurse called her name. Stanton followed, flashing that silver star and convincing the staff it was imperative he wait in the hall.
When she came out, she showed Stanton her paper. “All clear, pending six to eight weeks of healing time.”
Stanton rose from his chair beside the door. “Before we head back, restroom’s down the hall if you need it.”
“I do.” Aubrey shifted her weight carefully. “You’ll be right outside there as well?”
“Wouldn’t be anywhere else.” He nodded.
The hallway beyond the waiting room was dim and quiet, the sounds of the clinic muted behind her. Aubrey moved quickly, unease prickling her skin for no reason she could name.
Just instinct.
She reached for the door to the women’s restroom, and movement exploded behind her. She spun to see Stanton react instantly, stepping between her and the blur rushing from the supply alcove. His hand went for his weapon, but he never got it free.
Something struck the side of his head, hard. Stanton crumpled to the floor, his body hitting the wall before sliding down, unmoving. Blood on his head. So much blood.
Aubrey screamed, instinct driving her to rush into the bathroom.
But there was nowhere to go. She was trapped.
The door slammed shut, the sound echoing off the tiles, and there he was. Facing her. Finn Donovan. “That’s right, little girl. I haven’t forgotten you.”
Her heart hammered in her chest, and her lungs refused to expand. Someone in the doctor’s office would realize she was in trouble and call 911…right?
He stepped forward, and she rushed to run past him. She had to get out of here, and that was the only way out.
He seized her, a steel band locking around her. She screamed until a gloved hand smothered the sound, his forearm pinning her arms to her ribs. “The more you struggle, the worse it’ll be for you. Much better to come quietly.”
His voice. She remembered. His voice had the same evil timbre, and icy slivers of fear ran through her veins. He reeked of body odor and cigarettes.
Aubrey didn’t care. She couldn’t breathe! She wriggled, tried to position her body to break his hold. Blackness crept in around the edges of her vision, and she struggled for air.
“I’ve been thinking about this day for the last twenty years, sitting in that cell.” The man’s sour breath grazed her skin, and a cold ripple of fear moved through her before she could stop it.
No. Please, God, not him.
“We’re going to have so much fun.”
Pain exploded behind her eyes, and she felt herself falling, blackness closing in.
The steel tightened and everything went black.
Ethan sat at his desk in his office, a half-cold cup of coffee untouched beside his laptop. Stanton and Aubrey should be back from her doctor’s appointment soon enough.
His phone buzzed, and he picked it up. “Butler.”
“It’s Roberts,” Liam said. “We’ve got a witness. Civilian. Had a run-in with Donovan last night.”
Ethan straightened. “Where is he?”
“Renegade Mercy General. Gas station clerk off Route 8. EMTs flagged it. Donovan was wearing a Marshals jacket.”
Ethan was already on his feet. “We need to talk to them.”
“Copy that,” Liam said. “I’m two minutes out. I’ll swing by and pick you up.”
Liam pulled into the lot just as Ethan stepped outside. They didn’t waste words. Ethan slid in and Liam pulled out. “You good?”
As the office disappeared in the rearview mirror, Ethan’s jaw set. “I’m good.”
Aubrey was still out there. And Donovan was wearing one of their jackets, pretending to be a fed.
Anxiety tugged at Ethan as Liam parked in front of Renegade Mercy General. He jumped out of the SUV and bolted for the automatic doors, every instinct screaming to move faster.
Liam grabbed his arm, halting his progress. “Slow down, man.” Liam looked away and then back at Ethan, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “The witness asked to speak to us. He’s awake. Banged up, but awake. And he’s not going anywhere.”
“We need to get in there and ask some questions.” Ethan needed leads.
They stopped by the front desk, showed their badges, and rode the elevator up to the sixth floor.
The beep of machines, PA system pagers, and the squeaking of rubber soles on the tile floor gave off haunted vibes. A uniformed Renegade PD officer stood watch outside the witness’s door. He held up a hand as they approached. “No one is allowed in there.”
“US Marshals. I’m Deputy Marshal Ethan Butler, and this is Deputy Marshal Liam Roberts.” The men pulled out their wallets for ID and showed him the badges on their belts. “We have some questions we’d like to ask the patient, if that’s okay, Officer…?”
“Ferguson. Andrew Ferguson.”
Ferguson opened the door. “Go on in, but you can only stay about five minutes. Doctor’s orders.”
“Thanks, man.” Liam shook Ferguson’s hand.
The hospital room smelled faintly of antiseptic and old coffee.
The patient lay propped against the pillows, a bandage wrapped around his forehead and one arm secured in a sling.
He looked younger than Ethan expected, barely out of his teens, eyes still a little glassy, either from the meds or the pain.
Liam closed the door behind them.
“Mason Cole?” Ethan said. “I’m Deputy Marshal Butler. This is Deputy Marshal Roberts.”
Mason nodded. “Yeah.” He pushed the button to raise his head. Bruises covered his arms, and a purplish bruise ringed one eye.
“We understand you had an encounter last night,” Liam said. “At the gas station.”
Mason swallowed. “That’s one way to put it.”
“We’d like to know what happened. Take your time,” Ethan said. “Start from the beginning.”
“It was late. After midnight,” Mason said. “I was closing up when this guy walked in. He was wearing a Marshals jacket.”
Ethan’s spine stiffened and Liam pulled a chair up to the bed.
“Did it look official?” Liam asked.
“Sort of. But it didn’t fit right. Too big. Like it wasn’t his.” Mason frowned. “Smelled like cigarettes.”
“What did he buy?” Ethan asked.
“Beer. Cigarettes. Chips. Candy bars.” Mason gave a humorless huff. “Junk food. Like he was stocking up.”
“Did you talk to him?” Liam asked.
“Yeah.” Mason shifted, wincing. “I asked if he was here for Renegade Days when everything went down. Everyone’s been talking about it.”
“And?” Ethan prompted.
“He just…stopped. Not angry, just real focused.” Mason’s gaze drifted to the wall. “He said, ‘This town’s not done with me yet.’”
Liam’s jaw tightened. “Then what?”
“He asked for directions. Said he was already staying in Renegade, just wanted to make sure he was headed the right way.” Mason hesitated. “Then he pulled out his phone.”
Ethan felt the room narrow.
“What did he show you?” Liam asked.
“A picture,” Mason said quietly. “Of a woman.”
“Describe her,” Ethan said.
“Long, dark-red hair. Kind eyes and a pretty smile.” Mason glanced up. “She looked nice.”
Ethan’s stomach dropped and his blood turned to ice. He pulled out his phone, his movements controlled, deliberate as he accessed the secured file. He didn’t look at Liam when he turned the screen toward the bed.
“Is this her?” Ethan asked.
Mason’s face drained of all color. “Yeah. That’s her. Is she in trouble?”
Ethan locked the screen and slid the phone back into his pocket. “She’s under our protection.”
“Did he say her name?” Liam asked.