Heathens & Hold Ups (Book 2 of the Heathens Duet)

Chapter 52- Agent Rivers

Leaving Vernon behind at the apartment was a choice for my sanity, even if he'll be following up on our only other lead later despite his insistence that it's not worth the time. His bullheaded ideas keep stunting the investigation. Shooting me down at every turn because he keeps underestimating our suspects. His antiquated, misogynistic views are blinding him to the women involved.

Calista Danvers knows more than she's letting on. Too many coincidences end up with her at the center. Unless she was cursed at birth and fate has a personal vendetta against her, she is more than just a victim of 'wrong time, wrong place'.

Kaitlyn Walker is crafty, strong-willed, and driving me crazy. My attempts to follow her this week have been a bust. Trailed her to the local watering hole in the wall last night in hopes that she'd be meeting up with someone involved in this case. Instead of any valuable information, I ended up holding a beer that she paid for in my hand with her toasting me from the other side of the bar with a wink and a laugh. That had her hair cascading down her back like a waterfall while she had me and half of the men in the bar lost to her thrall. Ending the night with no answers and my dick in my palm as I pictured her hair wrapped around my fist and her hot, smart-ass mouth swallowing me down, hadn't helped my attitude any.

She's a goddamn siren that one and Lord does she know it. Still, I'd be remiss if I didn't follow up on a lead because I'm physically attracted to her. It's one of the first things we were taught at the academy. Pretty faces are the best distractions and to make sure the right head is leading our investigations. Our instructor had been a little crass and way too blunt, but the lesson stuck.

I'm obsessing over this case. I know it. Vernon knows it too if the way he watches me out of the corner of his eyes is any indication. The lack of information from headquarters is just as much an indicator. Bullshit about lack of escalation with the Danvers girl as the only outlier and she's insisting she was treated humanely despite the injuries she returned with. Injuries she swears they were not the cause of. Dozens of banks hit, negligible amount of money actually stolen considering the risk, no shots fired despite the weapons the men carry, and the only incidents where shots were fired were by customers. Customers that were expertly disarmed, their weapons broken down and the hostages themselves left unharmed. Two incidents out of dozens in an open carry state like Texas. That's not an accident, it's precision. Training.

Nothing about this case is typical and I'm beginning to run out of boxes to look outside of. It's like every time I uncover a clue, the next one is in another language and I'm back to square one. I keep coming back to the same conclusion and it's just not possible. I read the reports, what I could with the heavily redacted copies I was given.

Ghosts don't rob banks. Ghosts don't take hostages for weeks and return them safe and sound. Ghosts don't make deputies disappear. Even if I can't officially link those two cases, I saw the truth in Calista Danvers eyes. Colton Barnes may be a missing person, but nobody is looking all that hard. His father included. Given what I've uncovered about the younger Barnes, I'm not all that inclined to dig too deep either. Can't prosecute what can't be proven.

So here I am. Once again outside of the Walker farm and praying that this is the day Kaitlyn Walker leads me to answers.

As I watch her fly out of her house like the flames of hell are licking at her heels as he leaps down the porch steps, I look up at the sky and thank the big man himself. She hops in a four-wheeler and speeds off toward the back part of the Walker property and I do my best to follow her through my binoculars as she disappears into the trees.

There's only so many places she could go from there. With the research I've been able to do and a lot of satellite imaging, there's not much back there. Good hunting acreage and the fence dividing the Walker farm from the Landry farm. Former Landry farm despite how everyone around here refers to it. Belongs to Hamilton Banks now.

"Fuck!" I throw the binoculars. As I weigh out the consequences of forgiveness over permission, my phone rings. Vernon.

"What?" I bark. I listen intently as he speaks rapidly, out of breath from running. His words have me instantly choosing forgiveness as I speed down the Walker's driveway, abandoning my car on the gravel in front of their house, and thanking whoever's listening that the keys to one of their spare four runner's is sitting in the ignition.

So trusting; I can't imagine living that naively.

I take off after Kaitlyn, thankful once again that I dressed to blend in as nature whips at my jean covered legs. I should have followed my instincts instead of allowing myself to be trapped by protocol. It's never failed me before. Though I get the horrible churning feeling in my gut, that I'll never forgive myself if it chooses today as that day.