Seized. Elizabeth Heiter
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pawn, trying to take from others. We need to make her pay for it, like Ward always says.”
“Back off!” Rolfe shouted with so much rage and authority that the crowd actually did take a collective step backward.
But it didn’t last. The cultists surged forward again almost immediately, and in front of her, Rolfe’s hands locked around his AK-47.
To protect her? Evelyn didn’t know, but it probably wouldn’t matter. Just Rolfe against more than a dozen frenzied survivalists? Even if he handed her a weapon—which he wasn’t likely to do—it wouldn’t be enough.
A strong hand wedged itself between her and Rolfe, gripping her upper arm and trying to wrestle her free.
Evelyn pushed hard against the wall, and managed to get her hand up, digging her short nails into the man’s wrist as hard as she could until his grip loosened. But just as fast, there was someone else on her other side, reaching for her, too.
Then Ward Butler’s distinctive growl cut through the noise, so loud and angry it made her jump.
“Enough!”
As one, his followers stopped, but Evelyn didn’t have to see them to feel the blast of hatred aimed at her. Rolfe’s body eased forward a little, finally allowing her to draw a full breath, but setting panic free. She latched on to the rough folds of his camo, hoping to keep him there. He was all she had besides Butler’s whims protecting her from a lynching.
“We hang on to her for now,” Butler said, and a grumbling that sounded like an angry lion’s roar filled Evelyn’s ears.
Still, the crowd eased farther back, and most of them returned to the main room where Butler had preached earlier. Rolfe moved away from her, too, pulling out of her shaky grasp with ease.
He left her there, trembling in the hallway. A few scowling cultists prevented her from running for the door as fast as she could. Although it occurred to her that if they had trip wires inside the compound, there was probably something at the back door.
Evelyn slid along the wall, the three men who’d stayed behind tracking her closely as she slunk into a corner of the room. She didn’t want Rolfe out of her sight.
He was at the front now, standing next to Butler, talking. Evelyn turned to scan the rest of the room, and discovered that the other men had taken seats at the three tables and were talking among themselves as if nothing had happened, suddenly as docile as a group of survivalists could get.
Her heart rate wasn’t as quick to decelerate, and she pressed a hand to her chest as she swiveled her head, looking for the next threat.
Snippets of conversations drifted her way as the sound of her heart pounding in her ears slowly faded. Some of the men had moved on to mundane topics, like how brutal they predicted this year’s winter would be, the best methods for finding food on the mountain and where to scavenge for supplies. Others still grumbled about letting a federal agent live when they needed to teach the government a lesson. A handful just eyed Butler and Rolfe with interest.
The few who’d stayed behind in the hallway still stood within arm’s reach. The guy with the lasso—a small, heavily bearded man, probably in his twenties, with beady eyes and a snarl—kept glancing between her and Butler. The other two were calmer, hands lingering near their weapons, but displaying no obvious fury. More of Butler’s lieutenants?
She squinted at them, trying to remember where they’d been during the mob, although she hadn’t been able to see much around Rolfe. She had no idea if they’d swarmed her or if they’d been among the few who’d stood back and watched, ready to jump in or break it up, depending on Butler’s orders.
“...question me!” Butler’s furious voice caught her attention. Evelyn shifted her head toward him again, straining to hear, but he quieted down as Rolfe, his back to her, gestured with his hands. He seemed to be arguing aggressively.
New worry rushed into her mind. What would Butler do—or have his followers do—to Rolfe if he didn’t obey orders? And what would happen to her without Rolfe?
How the hell had she let herself get mixed up in this mess? Would she have recklessly accompanied Jen if she hadn’t been looking for a way to decide whether she still belonged in BAU? Or would she have done what Dan wanted and headed home on schedule?
Was this just one more sign that it was time to move on? To leave profiling behind for good? To leave the FBI?
To start over somehow? Of course, that meant she’d have to figure out what she wanted to do—who she even was—without the mission that had been driving her since she was twelve years old.
The very idea made her uneasy. The need to find out what had happened to Cassie had pushed her through college, through her advanced degrees, through the FBI Academy. It had motivated her to work impossible hours, striving for a perfect record, until she’d been accepted into BAU.
Now, her desperate need to solve Cassie’s case was gone, because she’d done it. What was left?
She’d never know unless she could make it out of here alive, Evelyn reminded herself as she tried to hear what Rolfe was saying.
“...need her! Don’t forget why you’re here,” Rolfe’s voice carried toward her.
“This isn’t how it was supposed to go,” Butler boomed. “Not here! This place was supposed to stay invisible.” Then he seemed to realize how loud he was being, and glanced around as Evelyn wondered what exactly his words meant.
Ward caught her eye and Evelyn lowered her head, but not before she saw him look back at Rolfe and give him a toothy, insincere smile.
“I never would’ve let them kill her,” Butler said, clearly intending for her to overhear as he added, “Not yet.”
Rolfe said something in response, but all Evelyn caught was an ominous-sounding, “Don’t forget what we agreed,” before he stalked away from Butler and toward her.
“Let’s go,” he barked, grabbing her arm and dragging her along with him back the way they’d come.
She stumbled, trying to catch her footing. “Where?”
“You want to stay with me or them?” Rolfe replied, the fury in his tone telling her now wasn’t the time to test his determination to keep her alive.
“You,” she whispered, as if she had a choice.
“That’s what I thought,” he said, still pulling her along so fast she had trouble keeping up.
The beady-eyed guy with the lasso spat at her, but kept quiet as Rolfe dragged her back the way they’d come.
He slowed down just long enough to let her step carefully over the trip wire, and the way he glanced at her gave her the impression that his anger was directed more at Butler than at her. It was hard to tell how far they’d walked in the semidarkness, but Evelyn thought they’d passed the closet where he’d brought her earlier to change.
How big was this place? And where were they going?
She could sense Rolfe’s mood in his painful grip, so she didn’t ask, just let him push her through another door and shut her inside. She heard him storm off, and as soon as he left, she reached out blindly and tested the handle. It was locked. A second later, footsteps approached again and she listened as something scraped the floor as it was wedged under the handle from outside.
She stood in the darkness, waiting for her eyes to adjust. No matter how much she strained, she couldn’t see anything at all, not even shapes. She gave up and stretched out her arms. Her right hand bumped into something wooden, sending another splinter into her arm. She ignored the pain, sliding her hand forward, identifying shelves. They were lined with plastic containers, but she couldn’t guess what might be in them.
Carefully, she took a step to the left, and immediately bumped into another shelf. So she was probably in a different closet, like the one they’d originally shut