Chapter 40
Cory stared at the evidence board they'd created on the operations room wall—Tom Morrison at the center, lines connecting him to every incident.
Three hours since Janet's call about her suspicions.
Two hours since Martha's devastating news.
Outside, December darkness had fallen like a curtain, and snow was beginning to dust the windows.
His phone buzzed. Janet Morrison.
"Chief Fraser?" Her voice cracked with hysteria. "Tom's gone. He left a note—said I betrayed him by talking to you."
Cory straightened, catching Izzy's attention across the room. "Janet, slow down. When did he leave?"
"Maybe an hour ago? I was at the store getting groceries for our anniversary dinner—forty years today—and when I came back..." A sob cut through her words. "He was so angry about the jacket, kept saying I was trying to frame him. Said everyone's against him now, even me."
"Is he on foot? Did he take his truck?"
"The truck's gone. Cory, I'm scared. He's not himself. He hasn't been himself for weeks. Longer, maybe," she added in a whisper.
Izzy had moved closer, reading his expression. He mouthed "Tom's missing" and saw her jaw tighten.
"Janet, I'm coming over. Don't touch anything."
"Should I call 911? The FBI?" Janet's panic bled through the phone.
Cory's mind raced. The Feds would swarm the scene, take over, probably arrest Tom on sight—or worse, if he was armed and confused. They needed answers, not a shootout. At this point, he couldn’t even risk calling in his own people. The FBI would get wind of it instantly.
"Not yet," he said carefully. "Let me assess the situation first. Lock your doors and wait for me."
He disconnected and turned to Izzy. "Tom's in the wind. Janet says he left a note accusing her of betrayal."
Izzy was already moving, grabbing her jacket. "We need to—"
"I need to go to the Morrison house. Assess the situation before we call it in." He paused, the next words difficult. "The FBI's already threatened us both. You should—"
"Don't even finish that sentence." Her dark eyes flashed. "Either you pick me up after checking the house, or I'll be right on your tail. Your choice."
He recognized that tone—the operative who'd survived missions he'd never have clearance to know about. No point arguing.
"Why aren't we calling this in?" she pressed. "Armed, confused man on the run—that's usually an all-points bulletin situation."
Cory grabbed his keys, thinking it through. "Because the FBI will take over. They'll shoot first if Tom's armed and doesn't respond to commands. The man needs help, not a SWAT team."
"Copy that."
He headed for the door. "I'll check the scene, then swing back for you. Have gear ready—vests, comms, everything."
Twenty minutes later, Cory stood in Tom Morrison's study, staring at the computer screen. Janet hovered behind him, wringing her hands.
"I didn't mean to snoop," she said for the third time. "But when I saw he'd left his computer logged in... after that note..."
The document on screen was titled "What I've Done." Cory read quickly:
I never meant for it to go this far. The mistakes I've made, the people I've hurt.
Mountain Angel didn't deserve this. Those pilots didn't deserve this.
I kept telling myself I was doing the right thing, but somewhere I lost my way.
The pressure, the money, the promises—none of it matters now.
I can't undo what's been done. I can't fix what I've broken.
Janet, I'm sorry. You deserved better than—
The confession ended mid-sentence, cursor blinking after the dash.
"Like he couldn't finish it," Janet whispered.
Or someone interrupted him, Cory thought. He photographed the screen with his phone. In the corner of the study, a gun safe stood open, the rifle rack empty.
"What did he take?" Cory asked, though his gut already knew.
"His hunting rifle. The Remington." Janet's voice shook. "He hasn't hunted in years, but he keeps it cleaned and ready. Said it reminded him of better times."
"The note he left for you—where is it?"
Janet retrieved a piece of paper from the kitchen counter, hands trembling. Tom's usually neat handwriting was jagged, angry:
You betrayed me. Talked to them about me. Told them about the jacket. You're supposed to be on MY side. 40 years and you turn on me like everyone else. I know what you're trying to do. I won't let you.
The paranoia leaked from every word. Cory recognized the pattern—someone in crisis, lashing out at those closest to them.
"Our anniversary is today," Janet said, tears flowing freely. "He mentioned our special place. The old ranger station on Mount Ellis. We got engaged there, and when he's upset, he always talks about going back. About how things were simpler then."
Cory's blood chilled. Remote location, armed man in crisis, December weather—this could go very wrong, very fast.
"What if he hurts himself?" Janet's grip tightened. "Or someone else? You know that ranger station—hikers use it in winter sometimes. What if—"
"We'll find him," Cory said firmly. "Janet, have you touched anything else? Moved anything?"
"No, I... I was afraid to disturb evidence. In case..." She couldn't finish the sentence.
"Lock up behind me. Don't answer the door for anyone except me or law enforcement. Not even Tom. Understood?"
She nodded, looking every inch the terrified wife watching her world crumble.
Back in his SUV, Cory called Izzy as he drove. She answered on the first ring.
"Tom's armed and on the run. Janet thinks he's headed to Mount Ellis—old ranger station where they got engaged."
"How armed are we talking?"
"Hunting rifle. Remington 700 from the looks of the safe. Decent scope." He took a turn faster than conditions warranted. "He left a paranoid note accusing Janet of framing him, and there's a partial confession on his computer."
"I'll be ready. Full tactical gear for both of us." A pause. "If you want to call in the Feds, I’ll stay behind."
"We do this together or not at all," he cut her off. "Someone needs to watch my six, and I trust you more than anyone else right now."
The admission hung between them for a heartbeat.
"Copy that," she said softly. "ETA?"
"Eight minutes."
"I'll be waiting."
As he drove through the waning light toward Knight Tactical, Cory considered the risks. Armed suspect in mental crisis. Remote location. Weather deteriorating. No backup because they couldn't risk the FBI turning this into a bloodbath.
On the plus side, he’d have one of the bravest humans—and seriously-skilled Special Forces soldiers—he’d ever known at his side.
He only hoped Izzy could say the same about him.