Federal Agent Under Fire. Julie Lindsey Anne

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       Chapter Two

      Blake slowed his truck at the national park entrance where a line of cars blocked the gate. A park ranger moved car to car, waving his hands and pointing toward the exit.

      “What the hell?” Blake powered his window down and shoved an elbow over the frame. He tipped his head through the open window. “Hey, what’s going on?”

      The ranger, still two cars away, shot him a dirty look and continued arguing with the driver of a rusted hatchback.

      Blake shifted into Park and climbed down from the cab. He gave Marissa an authoritative stare. “Stay put.”

      She released her seat belt and twisted on the seat, scanning the scene outside. A big white van with a satellite on top came into view, along with a cluster of people and cameras. “This day keeps getting worse.”

      “What?” Blake peered over the crush of stalled vehicles. “The reporter?”

      “I think the good Samaritan who drove me to the sheriff’s department is being interviewed by that news crew.”

      “Sonofa—” Blake slammed his door and headed into the chaos. His FBI shield bounced against his chest on a beaded metal chain. “Hey,” he called again, “what’s this about?”

      The ranger sagged in relief. He motioned to Blake’s badge. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were FBI. It’s pandemonium up here.”

      “You want to fill me in?” Blake asked.

      “Some guy showed up with a news crew an hour ago. He says a woman was attacked here this morning. They aired a live interview snippet, and people started pouring in to have a look at the crime scene. Campers are scared. Some are leaving. The phone won’t stop ringing.”

      Blake could barely hear the phone inside the little guard booth. He climbed onto a massive tree stump painted with the park hours and strained for a better look at the crowd near the white van. A man in Dickies and flannel stood beside a woman Blake recognized from the Channel Six News team. If that man hadn’t saved Marissa, Blake would’ve been tempted to escort him out of the park violently.

      The ranger fixed Blake with an expectant look. “What should we do?”

      As if on cue, the sheriff’s cruiser rolled into view, bouncing through the grass alongside a line of waiting cars. Blake whistled and waved to his brothers as West angled between the guard gate and overcrowded lot. No other cars would get in until he moved.

      Cole jumped out. “We’ve got this. You got her?” He flicked his gaze to Blake’s truck.

      Blake nodded and shook the ranger’s hand, eager to get back to Marissa. “Sheriff and Deputy Garrett will take it from here.” He jogged back to the truck and climbed inside. “You okay?”

      “Fine.”

      “Good.” He wrenched his truck free from the line and parked it in the grass beside the news van.

      He pocketed the keys and turned for Marissa. “Ready?” The alarm in her eyes stunned him into silence. She’d put on a brave face at the station, but there was no confidence in her expression now. A distant part of him longed to comfort her somehow, but that wasn’t his place. She probably had a long line of people waiting to fold her into their arms and ease her fear. Blake’s job was to stop a madman.

      She turned weary eyes on him. “Yes.”

      “Don’t worry.” The statement was out before he’d thought better of it. Then, already heading downhill, he made it worse. “I won’t let him hurt you again.” The words soured on his tongue. How could he promise to protect her? He’d let Nash get away once already. Wasn’t it technically his fault that Nash had gotten ahold of her at all?

      Marissa lifted her chin and rolled her shoulders back. “Thank you for saying so, but I’m not afraid.” The lie was evident in the lines gathered across her forehead, but Blake didn’t argue.

      He climbed out and met Marissa on her side of the truck. “Why don’t you take me to where you left him?”

      “Sure.” Marissa led the way down a gravel and mud path from Blake’s makeshift parking spot to the trailhead. “I started here around five thirty.”

      “Miss?” A woman’s voice carried over the drone of the crowd. “Miss? Excuse me.” The Channel Six reporter hurried in Marissa’s direction waving a microphone. Her pink dress suit and pearls were sorely out of place in the park. Her pointy heels sank into the ground with each hurried step. Worse, she wasn’t alone. She was a mama duck, trailed by her cameraman, the guy who’d driven Marissa to the station and a row of nosy locals craning to get a look at the victim.

      Marissa made a soft squeaky noise and Blake’s hackles rose. He widened his stance and lifted a palm in the reporter’s direction. “Stop right there.”

      “Absolutely.” She fluffed her hair and straightened her jacket. “I’m Linda Somers, Channel Six News. And you are?” She eyeballed the badge around his neck. A sugary-sweet smile curved her lips.

      The cameraman positioned himself near a tree and hoisted the camera onto one shoulder, arranging his shot. A little red light blinked at the side of his lens. He gave Linda a thumbs-up.

      Her smile widened. “Are you here to investigate this morning’s attack, Federal Agent...” She left the sentence hanging.

      “That’s Blake Garrett,” someone called from the crowd. “He’s the sheriff’s brother.”

      Damn small towns. Blake ground his teeth. “Please direct your questions to Sheriff Garrett.”

      “Is this the victim?” she asked. Pencil-thin eyebrows rose behind her bangs.

      The man who’d called this fiasco into action nodded. “Yeah. That’s her. I found her running along the county road, crying.”