Page 27

27

Special Agent Fallon Baxter

A sense of urgency like never before fills the neighborhood where Nikki’s car was found.

Patrol cars from the sheriff’s department slide into place within the three-block radius of the Oasis, the last place where anyone saw Nikki last night. And along with the sheriff’s department just about every field agent has boots on the ground as well.

Jack and I just scoured the vicinity where we tracked down her sedan and head for the Oasis to grill the staff. We’re about thirty feet from the entry when I spot a trio of bloodhounds pulling on a leash as they drag the officer who holds the reins.

“You called out the cadaver dogs?” I pant as we pick up our pace.

“I had to. Buddy’s not exactly trained in that department.”

Buddy barks back at us as if he took umbrage to the fact. Buddy seems to want to find Nikki as bad as we do. He’s been just as anxious ever since we discovered her phone.

A crowd of agents gathers near the mouth of the entrance to the bar and grill.

“Check every security camera, speak with every witness—don’t miss a beat. She could be anywhere.” Jack’s voice cuts through the murmurs, sharp and commanding, as he coordinates the city-wide search for Nikki.

My heart hammers hard and it feels as if a malfunction is in order. I just finished running door-to-door speaking to local shop owners, demanding any and all security footage. Thankfully, no one gave me any grief.

This isn’t just another case—it’s personal.

It’s late afternoon as Jack and I head back into the Oasis, and it all feels familiar sans the wall-to-wall bodies that were here the other night. A few agents are already scattered about, speaking to the waitstaff, to a few patrons, and I see one flashing a picture of Nikki on his phone to the bartender.

“Nine o’clock,” Jack growls, and I look that way to see Owen Marcus heading our way.

His face looks pale, shell-shocked no doubt by the security presence as he makes a beeline our way.

“Some fed just asked if I’ve seen Nikki?” he says, sounding genuinely surprised. “What the hell? Don’t tell me she’s dead.”

“She’s not,” Jack insists.

“We don’t know,” I counter, and Owen’s eyes enlarge.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I didn’t have anything to do with it.” His expression quickly grows suspicious. “Is this some kind of sick joke? Is this another one of Damien’s efforts to one-up me? Because if it is, he’s gone too far.”

“Maybe you’re trying to one-up him?” Jack offers and Owen staggers back.

“This is a freaking nightmare,” he says, mostly to himself. “Whatever you want.” He points a finger hard at us. “Whatever you need. I’m going to help you nail that bastard to a wall.”

Hale walks this way, along with a bartender, a blonde that I remember seeing the night we were here. He’s glaring at Owen as if the guy stole his lunch money or his Special Agent.

“Is this the guy?” Hale cuts the air with his voice and it sounds like a threat.

“Yes,” the bartender says, looking a little angry at the moment. “That’s him.”

Hale steps toward Owen and his chest expands. “You want to tell me why this woman says she saw you leaving the premises with my agent last night?”

I inch back. “I thought you said she left on her own?”

Owen lifts his chin and his eyes close a moment too long.

Caught red-handed.

“Speak or I’m ending you.” I pull back my blazer to reveal my gun.

Hale frowns my way before reverting his attention to our shiny new perp.

“All right. I walked her outside and we”—he scratches the back of his neck—“we went around to the side of the building. Let’s just say things got amorous.”

“Amorous?” Hale’s face turns purple. “I highly doubt Agent Knight was a consenting party. That’s hardly her MO.”

Jack winces. “That’s a little of her MO.” He nods to the right. “This place is surrounded by security cameras. If you’re telling the truth, we’ll be able to see it.” He glances at Hale. “The place she was parked is a desert as far as security goes. I think we have enough. Let’s head back to the office.” He reverts his attention back to Nikki’s latest conquest, or her killer—maybe both.

Although not a part of me believes that Nikki is dead. At least not yet.

“Don’t worry”—Owen raises his hands—“I’m not going anywhere.”

“We’ll be holding you to that.” Jack’s voice is an ice-cold threat.

Outside, the evening grows heavy as Hale keeps in step with us.

“This is a complete mess,” he spits out, and his frustration is palpable in the chilly night air. “If we lose an agent...” His voice trails off. He doesn’t dare finish it. “We’re going to find Knight. I’ll meet you at the office.”

Jack and I head to where we left his truck, and Buddy sniffs at everything along the way. I don’t resist his efforts. If it wasn’t for Buddy, we wouldn’t have found her phone. Or at least it would have taken a bit longer.

“We’re not stopping,” I say it low. Adrenaline sharpens my focus to a razor’s edge. “We’ll tear this city apart if we have to.”

Jack nods, but his expression is grim. “We’re bringing Nikki back,” he says flatly, although the promise is alive in his eyes. “And hell itself won’t stop us.”

“Whatever it takes,” I whisper as the city grows dark.

I mean every word like a silent vow in this unforgiving world.

Nikki Knight is out there and we’re going to find her.

And then that monster who did this to her is going to pay. I’ll make sure of it myself.

Sometimes justice by way of the government can take a little too long. And let’s just say my gun is anxious to misfire in the most convenient way.

If he did this, Owen is a dead man.