“I think that anything is possible. With the many different interpretations, they could kill by ‘beast.’ They could have had one of their victims mauled by an alligator. There are all kinds of possibilities out there, but the thing that scares me most is that this could go on a long time. Even if we manage to...stop things here.”
“What do you mean?”
“It could reach farther than we’re imagining. There are cults out there—not running around murdering anyone that we know about—that have a global influence. Like everything else in the world, the underlying foundation is usually power and money.” He sighed. “We haven’t always performed spectacularly—the FBI has made plenty of mistakes. Even with the best intentions. When there’s a lot of firepower in play, people get hurt. People die. But you can’t go into a den of hornets without firepower. And any time something goes wrong, the government looks worse—and cult leaders have more ‘proof’ to fall back on.”
Amy was silent and so thoughtful that she jumped when her phone rang.
She glanced at Hunter and answered it quickly.
“Larson,” Amy said.
“Amy?”
The voice on the other end was Casey Colby’s.
“Are you all right?” Amy asked quickly.
“I’m fine, I’m fine. Have you found Billie?” Casey asked anxiously.
“I’m so sorry, not yet. Is everything all right with you?”
“Oh, yes, I’m okay. I was hoping that I could speak with you. In person, and alone.”
Amy frowned. “Casey, you’re about five hours south of me—”
“No, no, I’m almost in your area. I’m heading up to stay with a friend who owns a horse farm in Ocala.”
“Casey, we had Agent Ryan and Detective Mulberry looking out for you.”
“I don’t need to be afraid. If my family is involved, they would never hurt me. But please, I need to see you. I can meet you at a little diner called Sal’s Stopover. It’s just north of Micanopy, heading toward Gainesville. Say, tomorrow morning, about nine?”
“Of course. But, Casey,” she started, but hesitated. “I’ve seen your brothers. They’re with a group of questionable people in a little town called Maclamara.”
“They’re not bad people, I swear. Please, I—I need to see you, just you. I have a ton of thoughts and questions and things rushing through my mind, and if we just talk...alone, because I don’t want any of those he-man cops or agents or whatever taking what I saw the wrong way, I know that you’ll listen to me, that you’ll understand.”
“Of course. But, Casey, please, tell me where you’re staying—and call me back to let me know that you arrived safely.”
“Yeah, for sure.” Casey rattled off an address in Ocala, and when they ended the call, Amy quickly wrote it down. Hunter was looking at her.
“I overheard part of that,” he said.
“She said that she wants to meet with me, only me. I’m worried about her. She doesn’t believe that anyone in her family would hurt her, but... Nothing about this is normal.”
“We’ll get someone down in Ocala to watch over her, without being seen,” Hunter assured her.
Amy nodded.
“Right.” She looked at Hunter. “I have to meet with her. Our leads keep taking us to dead ends.”
“Yes, you have to meet with her.”
“Alone.”
He turned to grin at her. “Sure. Alone. But I’ll be close.”
They’d arrived back at the inn. Night had fallen, and the historic house was beautiful next to the moss-draped oaks.
Roger pulled in after them.
“Do you people ever eat?” he asked them. “Okay, I admit, the barbecue thing dimmed my appetite for a while, but...”
“We’ll order food,” Hunter assured him.
“You think we can—out here?” Roger asked.
“Yes, I think that we can.”
Food delivery companies had covered just about every possible inch of the country, Amy thought. They could even order a decent meal; they found a restaurant under one of the delivery services that offered everything from a “healthful living” menu to “steaks, fries and grease!”
They opted for steaks, fries and grease that night.
Sitting around the table in the suite, they enjoyed dinner, and a brief respite from the case. Roger Dawson, despite his fierce loyalty to his work, had a wife, three sons and, now, four grandchildren.
Hunter and Amy happily appreciated the pictures Roger showed them.
Then, finally, Roger yawned.
“Tomorrow—another sixteen-hour day. Good night, folks.”
Hunter locked the door behind Roger when he left.
“What now?” Amy asked.
“Well, you know, we do keep forgetting that food is necessary for life, for the energy we’re needing on this case.”
“We just ate.”
“But there are other needs...that can be just as necessary.”
“Did you have something in mind?” she asked him.
“Hell yeah!”
He strode slowly over to her. She came to her feet, ready to meet him, ready to feel the sweep of his arms, and the pressure of his lips, the excitement of his delving kiss. There was something about the way his tongue played in her mouth that was indicative of all else, and she felt him against her as if he were a sweet, searing flame that brought wicked heat but deliciously no harm.
They moved; the table jostled.
She almost fell back; he caught her.
She laughed as he looked into her eyes.
“I had an image in my head of one of those movie scenes where they sweep everything off the table, and make love right there.”
“Messy,” he said.
“Oh, yeah, far too messy! And the table is hard.”
He pulled her up off the table and then literally swept her up into his arms.
“I guess the bed, huh?”
“The bed would be perfect.”
He carried her in and laid her down. She came up on her knees as he joined her there on his.
“Guns!” she reminded.
Their weapons were set on each bedside table and they were left looking at one another again, smiling.
“Clothing!” Hunter said.