Chapter Five
Alena stayed quiet as Cal pulled the SUV to a stop in front of his cabin, the engine ticking as it cooled. For a moment, neither of them moved. The weight of the day pressed down, exhaustion and frustration settling into her bones.
The cops hadn’t found Dexter at her place. They hadn’t found Melissa either, even after searching the properties around Cedar Ridge.
Alena drew in a slow breath. At least David was safe. That was something. She clung to it, because the rest was a mess of uncertainty. She’d known better than to head back to her own house with Dexter on the loose. Still, sitting here, she couldn’t help but feel the tug of conflict.
Cal’s place was probably the last place she should be. But it was also the only place she wanted right now.
The cabin sat low against the trees, all stone and cedar with wide porches and big windows that looked out over the rolling grounds.
Like everything else at Crossfire Ops, it was high-end, built with care and intention.
Owen Striker had wanted his warriors to have a place that was both comfortable and secure, and it showed in every detail.
It was the safe part that mattered most to her.
Alena pushed open the door of the SUV and let the quiet of the compound settle around her. The cabins stood apart from one another, tucked into the land for privacy, but all of them close enough that help was never far away.
She looked at Cal, the words spilling out before she could hold them back. “Part of me wants to keep looking, to just go after Dexter. Find him, confront him, and end this.”
Cal’s eyes stayed on her, steady, weighing her words.
“He’s enjoying this,” she went on. “Taunting us. That trail cam footage, being so close to my house, the cut-throat motion, the dead meat. He’s trying to goad us into doing something reckless.”
Her chest tightened as she said it aloud. As much as she wanted the showdown, she knew that was exactly what Dexter craved.
“Yeah,” Cal said, his voice low. “I’d like to confront the SOB, too. But we both know how dangerous Dexter is.”
Alena let out a slow breath. “I do.”
She didn’t need the reminder, though the images pressed in anyway.
Dexter wasn’t former military like her and Cal, like most of the operatives at Crossfire Ops.
But he’d spent years making himself into a weapon all the same.
Martial arts, marksmanship, survival training.
He’d studied, drilled, and obsessed until he was lethal.
Not exactly a comforting thought when Melissa was in his hands, when he could be doing God knows what to her right now.
The knot in Alena’s stomach pulled tighter. She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing for just a second that she could shut it all out. But she couldn’t.
Not while Melissa was still out there.
A mosquito buzzed close, and Alena swatted it away with an annoyed flick of her hand.
Cal glanced at her and smirked. “Guess even the bugs can’t resist you.”
She rolled her eyes but managed a small smile. “Very funny.” The truth was, she appreciated the effort. Anything to push back the gloom and doom pressing in.
She grabbed the go-bag she’d taken from her locker at headquarters, slinging it over her shoulder. Together, they headed into his cabin.
Inside, the place carried Cal’s quiet stamp.
Clean lines, solid furniture, and everything in its place.
The stone fireplace dominated the main room, and above the mantel sat rows of framed photos.
David and Cal in uniform during their Air Force days, both of them younger, sharper-edged, grinning like they had the world ahead of them.
Other shots showed them with the rest of the team at Crossfire Ops, suited up, serious, a brotherhood carved from blood and grit.
No photos of her though. Alena hadn’t expected any. She didn’t keep pictures of him either, not where she could see them. Too many triggers. Too many memories ready to twist into flashbacks. And the heat that came with them, just as dangerous.
She looked at him now, the light from the lamp throwing his features into sharp relief. The truth hit hard. The flashbacks and the heat were both there tonight.
Their gazes held for a long moment, and then Cal sighed. He stepped closer, took the go-bag from her shoulder, and set it on the floor. Before she could think of what to say, he pulled her into his arms.
“This is playing with fire,” he murmured against her hair. “But I’m raw, pissed, and dealing with some bad shit.”
“So am I,” she whispered. And for all the truth in his words, she didn’t pull away.
The hug helped. It steadied her, gave her something solid to hold on to in the storm. But she felt it, too, the edges of her barriers crumbling. His strength, his warmth, the familiar rhythm of his breathing.
David’s question about the baby drifted back like smoke.
She knew it had to be on Cal’s mind, the same way it was on hers.
No way around it. But she wasn’t going to speak it aloud.
That wound was too deep, too permanent. Best to steer clear of the personal, of the massive elephant that would always be standing between them.
So she just held on.
Cal eased back, his hands still lingering on her arms. “Better?”
It wasn’t, not really, but she nodded. “Yeah.”
“You want something to eat?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. I’m exhausted, but I need to work.”
He tipped his head toward the hallway. “Office is this way.”
She followed him into a room that could’ve passed for a scaled-down version of the big briefing space at headquarters. Top-of-the-line monitors, a heavy desk, and enough secure equipment to track a small war.
Cal motioned for her to take the chair. “Go ahead. I’ll get us something to drink.”
Alena powered up the laptop and signed in, her fingers already moving to pull up updates from HQ. The screen glowed to life with scrolling data, but her attention snagged when Cal returned, a Coke in each hand and a plate of cheese and crackers balanced on his arm.
He set everything on the desk and dragged over a chair next to her. “You’ve got to eat something or I’ll be charged with starving an operative.”
This time her smile wasn’t forced. “Fine. One cracker.”
There were no updates on Dexter or Melissa. The silence on both fronts made Alena’s stomach sink, but she forced herself to focus as she nibbled on a cracker. She pulled up the files Noah had dropped into the system, deep runs on Arneson, Kara, and several of Dexter’s friends.
Arneson’s came up first.
“He’s been funding Dexter’s legal appeal,” she said, scanning the lines of data. “And he’s been visiting him at least once a week since he went inside.”
Cal leaned back in his chair, Coke in hand. “Plenty of time and opportunity to plan an escape.”
“Because they’re close,” Alena muttered.
“Close enough that Raines managed to get a warrant for Arneson’s financials,” Cal added. “If he’s gotten sloppy, that might show us something.”
Alena’s gaze shifted back to the earlier memory of Arneson tied to that chair. “It might’ve taken him a while to figure out how to tie himself up like that, but it’s doable.”
Cal nodded. “Exactly what I was thinking.” He stood, crossed to the wall screen, and tapped it awake. The digital crime board lit up, connections and images threading across the display. Cal dragged Arneson’s photo into place beside Dexter’s and drew the line that made him an accomplice.
Alena watched the link lock into place. It wasn’t proof, not yet. But it was a start.
She clicked over to the next file. “Kara Whitfield. She’s thirty-six, same age as Dexter.
Trust fund baby, never worked a day in her life.
” She skimmed further. “Looks like she met him when she volunteered at the prison, but according to one of her friends, Kara had already seen pictures of him and gotten obsessed.”
Cal leaned closer to read over her shoulder. “Says here she visited him several times a week.”
“And wrote him daily letters,” Alena added, shaking her head. “That’s not just volunteering. That’s fixation.”
Cal frowned as another line of text caught his eye. “In the past six weeks she’s been taking firearms training. What do you bet that was prep to help him break out?”
“She’s got the money for it,” Alena said. “Which is why Raines pushed through a warrant on her financials, too.”
Cal pushed back from the desk and went to the wall screen. With a swipe, he added Kara’s photo to the crime board and linked it to Dexter’s. “Another suspected accomplice.”
Alena stared at the growing web on the board. Two names connected to Dexter. Two people who might be helping him hide Melissa. The knot in her chest pulled tighter.
Cal stood back from the board, arms crossed. “One thing’s clear. Arneson and Kara don’t like each other. I don’t think they’re working together. Unless it’s an act.”
Alena leaned on the desk, eyes still on the web of names and connections. “I thought about that too. But the tension between them felt real.”
“Yeah,” Cal said slowly. “It did.”
“I’d like to know why,” she murmured. “Maybe it’s as simple as Arneson not wanting Kara in the way. If she interfered with the escape, she’d be a liability.”
“Could be.”
Alena frowned at Kara’s photo on the screen. “But it could also be the other way around. Kara might not want Arneson around. She might want Dexter all to herself.”
The idea settled heavy between them. Alena felt the hairs lift on the back of her neck.
Alena pulled up the next set of searches. “I’ll check what else Noah and Isla dug up on Dexter’s friends.” She scrolled through the list. “One of them is married now, and his wife just had a baby. Doesn’t look like he’s leaving her side anytime soon.”
Cal leaned over her shoulder. “Another one’s flat broke. Hard to bankroll a fugitive when you can’t even keep your lights on.”
She tapped to the next entry. “And this one’s serving time for burglary in Dallas. Not much help from behind bars.”
Cal grunted. “So far, they’re looking like dead ends.”
“Not completely,” Alena said. “Isla flagged them. Raines’s deputies are going to interview everyone, no matter how unlikely.” She sat back, letting the screen glow across her face. “At this point, anybody with a tie to Dexter is under the microscope.”
Cal made a sound of agreement, his gaze flicking to the digital board again. “Good. That’s where he belongs.”
Alena clicked into the next file, Melissa’s background. “Let’s see if she left any kind of trail that Dexter might’ve followed,” she murmured, pulling the laptop closer.
Cal slid the plate of cheese and crackers between them, and she took one without looking away from the screen.
It struck her, the ease of it. The two of them bent over a case, eating whatever was handy, bouncing theories back and forth.
It felt a little like old times, back when they were a team. Back before everything shattered.
She shook the thought off and kept scrolling. Melissa’s work history, her addresses, her phone and email records. “Hmm,” Alena said, narrowing her eyes. “That’s odd.”
Cal leaned closer. “What is it?”
“It’s not just one thing. It’s a lot of things,” Alena said, her pulse ticking up. Her finger hovered over the trackpad, ready to point them out.
Alena’s brows pulled tight as she scrolled. “Melissa’s bitter. Look at this. She’s been trying to stir things up, probably just to get under Dexter’s skin.”
Cal leaned closer. “Show me.”
“Melissa filed a harassment complaint against him, which got tossed out but still made it into the system. She called his parole officer multiple times in the past year to report bogus threats. And get this—she’s been posting on social media about him, making sure his name stays tied to every bad headline she can find. ”
Cal’s jaw tightened. “She wanted him cornered. Punished. Maybe she’s even provoking him, trying to push some buttons to get him to do something stupid. Something that’ll add time to his sentence.”
“Sure seems that way,” Alena muttered. And she couldn’t really blame the woman. Dexter had kidnapped her and tried to kill her. Hard to forgive and forget something like that.
Alena kept on reading, and her stomach flipped as she clicked to the most recent entry. “Melissa bought a burner phone within hours after the escape. And now we’ve got a call that supposedly came from her, with Dexter’s script behind it.”
She looked at Cal, the weight of it sinking in. “What if Dexter doesn’t have her at all? What if Melissa wants people to believe he does?”