Page 9 of Fear for Her Life

“It’s a lot to cover alone.” Cross gave her a pointed look.

“Jenna is not alone.” Jo walked into the office, flicked open her creds to display her FBI badge. “I’ll be working right along beside her.”

Biting back a smile, Jenna looked from the DA to Sam Cross. “I think we’ll start with speaking to Mr. Little. I’ll keep right away from his involvement with me this morning.” She looked at the DA. “Can you arrange for them all to be taken to County this afternoon? I no longer have the manpower to watch over them overnight again.”

“Not a problem.” The DA looked at his watch. “I’ll have them collected by two.” He stood. “It was nice speaking to you again, Jenna.” He marched out of the door, head held high.

“I apologize if I offended you, Sheriff.” Cross removed his hat and ran his fingers around the rim. “It wasn’t my intention.”

Jenna nodded. “Apology accepted. I will be down to speak to your client directly.”

“Give me twenty minutes.” Cross met her gaze. “I’ll need to run through a few things with him first and explain why you want to speak with him.”

As Cross walked out of the door, Jo closed it behind him. Jenna smiled broadly at her. “It’s good to see you again. Thanks for backing me up. Sam Cross can be an ass sometimes. What are you doing here? I figured you’d be going with Carter.”

“It looks like I arrived just in time.” Jo grinned. “I decided I’d be more useful in the office with you going over the profiles of the escaped prisoners so the team knows who they’re up against, rather than trekking through the forest, but I see another case has opened up.”

Jenna nodded. “Either reason is fine by me. The team has only been gone for five minutes and I’m already getting bored.”

“Well then.” Jo shrugged out of her jacket and hung it on the peg behind the door. “Let’s get at it.”

NINE

STANTON FOREST

Tuesday

Serena Lee had kept going until darkness prevented her from seeing the trail ahead of her. A moonless night meant the forest was pitch black and the horse stopped frequently and shied every time an owl or strange noise came close by. Having no other option, Serena found a patch of thick underbrush, tied the horse to a nearby tree, and made camp for the night. The ground was cold and damp, but the horse blanket helped. Images of her grandfather’s staring eyes and blood-soaked body flashed through her mind in a never-ending cascade of horror. Overcome with grief, she buried her face in her hands and wept. Tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped off the end of her nose. She cried for the grandpa she had loved and who had cared for her. She loved spending part of her vacations with him. He’d taught her so much about the forest and told her stories about her family that went way back to the old gold-mining towns. Now he was gone. She needed her mom. She must find a way out of the forest and tell her dad what happened. He’ll go to the sheriff and she’ll catch the men who did this. Her sobs turned into hiccups, and exhausted from crying, she leaned back against a tree and wrapped the blanket around her. Thunderbolt would alert her to danger. She closed her eyes and eventually dozed off.

Waking as sunlight hit her in the face, she ate a few of her meager rations and climbed back on the horse. She’d been following a trail alongside the river for about twenty minutes when voices came on the wind. Thunderbolt’s ears stood to attention, turning this way and that listening. Who could be coming? Unsure if she could trust anyone, she moved away from the trail and into the forest as the sound of men arguing sent birds flying into the air in panic. A group of people trudged along the sandy river’s edge toward her. She looked all around trying to get her bearings and swallowed hard in dismay. Had she become turned around overnight and was heading back the way she’d come? Could she be walking straight into the group of men who’d killed her grandpa?

Horrified at the thought of running into them again, she scanned the forest desperately searching for a place to hide. Alongside the river, a few cottonwoods grew, but a variety of pine trees covered the forest and combined with the thick underbrush. The men might not notice a black horse. Thank goodness she decided to keep to the trail rather than walk the horse along the sandy bank leaving a trail of hoofprints. She urged Thunderbolt deeper into the zebra-striped shadows, moving as silently as possible before stopping to dismount near a small boulder. She’d be able to use the rock to boost her back onto the horse’s back. Heart thundering in her chest, she stroked Thunderbolt’s nose as the voices got louder. If he whinnied at the approaching men, she wouldn’t stand a chance. She pulled a horse carrot out of the backpack just in case Thunderbolt decided to make a fuss. Leaning against the horse, she waited, terrified of what might happen next.

One man appeared pulling a woman with her hands bound together behind him. She was dressed in a uniform and had a bruise on one cheek. Her eyes, with dark circles below, appeared lifeless as she moved mechanically, as if forcing one step in front of the other. The man had a gun stuck in his waistband. Two others followed behind and she recognized them as the men who had killed her grandpa. All of them were wearing his clothes. A shiver went through Thunderbolt and he stamped his hoof hard on the ground. Serena broke the carrot in half and offered him a piece to take his mind away from the approaching men. She spoke to the horse in hushed tones, stroking his nose and trying desperately to keep him quiet. As they got closer, Serena held her breath, willing them to pass by without seeing her.

“Where do you figure the kid went?” One of the men waved a gun at the woman urging her to keep walking.

“I didn’t find any signs of her apart from in that one room. Maybe she died?” A second man, wearing her grandpa’s ball cap, skimmed pebbles across the river as if he were on vacation. “I looked around. I couldn’t find any trace of her. There were no plates in the sink or anything like that to say she was living with him and the only washing on the line belonged to the old man.”

“I figure she’s just a regular visitor.” The third man, wearing a green jacket, scanned the forest. “I don’t see any cabins along here. You told us there would be cabins all along the riverside.”

“I’ve seen maps of the area. There’ll be cabins coming along soon.” The first man turned and stared at Green Jacket. “Maybe we’ll find ourselves a truck and we can drive for a time. Souza said there were fire roads all over this forest. We don’t need to risk traveling along the highway. There will be roadblocks set up by now for sure, but they won’t be setting up any on the fire roads. If we keep traveling west, we should come to a bridge across the river. Souza said once we get over to the west, no one will be able to find us. It’s a good place to vanish. There are many old gold miners’ cabins along the river there as well that are deserted. We can hole up there. The next cabin we come to, we’ll collect what we need to survive off the land. The folks out here do it all the time and it sure is better than being on death row.”

“And we have the woman to do the chores and keep us company.” Green Jacket grinned. “It sounds like a lifelong vacation in paradise.”

Knees trembling, Serena fed the last piece of carrot to Thunderbolt. The crunching noise he made sounded like gunshots in the quiet forest, but the men hadn’t noticed and kept on walking along the sandy riverbank. She waited for ages, counting down the minutes in her head, and each time she got to sixty, she held up another finger, figuring if she waited for ten minutes, she could go back the way they’d come and find her grandpa’s cabin. She’d be able to call for help on the CB radio. Grandpa had shown her how to use it many times, just in case anything happened to him during her stay. He’d told her the call sign to use and how to get in contact with the sheriff’s office. She packed her bag, climbed onto the rock, and threw the bag over the horse’s back before climbing onto him. Picking up the reins, she urged him forward in the direction the men had come. Her grandpa had taken her fishing, but so far nowhere along the riverbank looked familiar. Many rivers ran through Stanton Forest, and this could be any one of them. She’d just keep moving and hope for the best. Sooner or later she would recognize her surroundings and find her way back to the cabin. She hadn’t been traveling for very long when gunshots rang out in the forest. Thunderbolt reacted immediately by trying to bolt. Serena tried to turn him around and kept talking to soothe him, but not before he’d trotted a hundred yards or so in the opposite direction.

A crashing sound came through the trees and she could make out a red baseball cap worn by one of a group of men and they were running toward her. Serena gathered up the reins, turned Thunderbolt around and urged him along a track heading east. Voices were getting closer. In a few moments they would see her. She leaned down over Thunderbolt’s neck and kicked him hard in the ribs. The horse bucked and tossed his head around, but Serena hung on for dear life. She had to get away. As Thunderbolt headed deep into the trees, she glanced over one shoulder. The men who had killed her grandpa dashed along the sandy bank but their attention wasn’t on her. It was on the bear chasing them. The horse had sensed the bear as well and increased his speed. He ran until sweat coated his flanks. When he finally slowed, Serena looked around in dismay, all she could see were miles and miles of trees. She had no idea which way to go and searched frantically for a landmark. A sob caught in her throat. Without help, she’d die out here all alone. Her family would never know what happened to her. She’d never see her mom again. Swallowing the overwhelming fear, she urged Thunderbolt through the trees. Behind her were murderers and bears. She had no option but to continue on into the unknown.

TEN

BLACK ROCK FALLS

Behavioral analyst and Special Agent Jo Wells had spent the last fifteen years studying the criminal mind. These ranged from petty thieves to gang members influenced by peer pressure to commit crimes they wouldn’t normally do if left to their own devices. The next class of criminal behavior was born from greed. These people came from all walks of life and didn’t exhibit a typical type, other than the need to improve their lot in life by stealing from somebody else. Many of these started by stealing old women’s purses, vehicles, or by holding up convenience stores and ended up running cartels and accumulating great wealth from the suffering of others mainly by fentanyl distribution, sex slavery, or child exploitation.

The next group of criminals she’d studied had been murderers. People killed for a variety of reasons and there was always an excuse for a sane person to murder someone. These motives included jealousy, hate, covering up a crime, greed, self-defense, power, passion, and obsession. This group of people usually had normal upbringings, and the murders usually stopped with one or two.

During her time with the FBI, Jo had dealt with all these types, but the criminals that intrigued her the most were psychopathic serial killers. These people were in a class of their own. They came from every economic background and both sexes, although men outweighed women by five to one. She discovered a large portion of them had a psychopathic parent, and having a parent with no empathy can trigger psychopathy in a child. Their parent or parents may not have been pushed to murder and managed to live reasonably normal lives, but a parent who raises a child without love and affection causes an instability that can emerge later in life in many different ways. From a child being cruel to animals, to bullies needing to exert power over others, to the quiet withdrawn kid who suddenly explodes into a serial killer. It’s not an exact science, as so many variables and different psychoses or personality traits go into the mix to create a serial killer.

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