Tempting Evil (10 page)

“He may not have made it, you’re right. But we have to assume that he did and he is planning something. Delusional people can convince themselves of anything. He probably wanted to kill you after you left him. He then would want to kill himself, feeling that he was unworthy of you. But over time, he’ll generate another fantasy in his head. Maybe that he surprised you with the revelation that he killed your husband’s murderer. He’s justifying your reactions in his mind, giving you a second chance, if you will. He did the same thing with Rebecca Oliver.”

“Who?”

Hans paused. “I thought Tyler told you.”

Tyler walked into the kitchen from the office. “I didn’t have a chance. After the Trotskys—I didn’t want to lay everything on you at once.”

“Tell me now,” she said.

“Rebecca Oliver was an actress and Doherty was her neighbor. He broke into her house and killed her and her friend.”

“Oh, God.”

Hans said, “I think it’s important to understand his cycle. He didn’t kill her right away. A month before the murders, he defaced her. In that attack, he was essentially giving her a warning. He was angry—like he was with you today—but then he stood back and assessed the situation. Convinced himself that Rebecca didn’t understand exactly what he wanted or who he was. He wanted to convince her. He sent her letters, which the police promptly confiscated. She never saw them. But at the same time, he was shrewd. The police were looking for him, so he disappeared. But he still found a way to watch her—he broke into another house across the street during the days when the owner was at work. He saw the police watching his house and hers. He believed she had betrayed him—in his mind, for the second time. He disappeared, went underground, before re-emerging later to kill her. The day after a tabloid newspaper reported that she’d been released from the hospital after plastic surgery.”

“And he eluded the police all that time?” Jo asked, incredulous.

“Doherty is resourceful and smart. If you know what you’re doing—keep a low profile, act like you belong—you’d be amazed at what people see and don’t see.”

“Are you okay, Jo?” Tyler asked.

She shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

Tyler tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You should get some sleep.”

“Not now.” She poured herself and Hans more tea. “Want some?”

“No thank you. I’ve had enough coffee to keep a small army awake all night.”

Jo rubbed his knee under the table. “What about food?”

“Stan had venison stew for everyone when we returned. I should be asking you the same thing.”

“That was hours ago. Let me heat some. There’s nothing better than stew at midnight.” She squeezed Tyler’s knee and caught his eye, then went to the refrigerator to take out the leftovers.

“Hans, do you think Doherty found shelter?” Tyler asked.

Hans sipped his tea. “Yes. I looked at the map that’s in the guest rooms. There were trails marked, emergency shelters noted, times and mileage. I think he had a destination in mind when he took Jo this morning. But I also think he had a backup plan. He could be at the refuge, or hiding out in a cabin waiting for the storm to break.”

“We’ll check every cabin the minute the blizzard breaks,” Tyler said. “Don’t give them time to leave.”

“I agree.”

“You said earlier that in understanding Doherty we can predict what he’ll do next.”

Hans nodded. “That’s always our goal. We’ve had a crew at Quantico reading Jo’s books, and they’ve hit upon a common theme. Love, forgiveness, and redemption. That’s exactly what Aaron wants. He wants Jo’s love and forgiveness because in that, he’ll be redeemed.”

“What am I supposed to forgive him for?” Jo asked, stirring the stew. She walked over to the breadbox and took out half a loaf of homemade bread, put it in the oven to warm.

“Things you don’t even know about. He thinks you understand him and, in that understanding, you will de facto forgive anything he does. You will support him in anything and everything. In his fantasy, you were created for him. You live to be with him.”

“Which means,” Tyler said, “that—in his mind—if she refuses to go with him, she needs to die.”

Hans nodded. “Yes.”

Jo picked up her tea with surprisingly steady hands. Sipped. The men watched her. She put the mug back down. “How do we catch him?”

Agent Mitch Bianchi walked into the kitchen with a yawn. “Mr. Nash is back sitting with Wyatt. He’s running a low-grade fever which may be nothing, or may be an infection. We’ll need to watch him. I went in and checked on the boy with the broken leg. Stan did a good job with him, though we should get him to a doctor as soon as possible.” He looked at the cups on the table. “Tea,” he said flatly.

Jo stood. “I can make some coffee.”

“Don’t trouble yourself.”

“No trouble,” she said.

“Actually, I’m done with caffeine for the night, though a tall glass of milk sounds good about now.”

Jo took out a couple glasses and a carton of milk. She found some cookies in the pantry and put them out as well. All three men reached for them. She went to check on the stew, stirred it, then dished up four bowls and put them on the table with the warmed bread. “To soak up all that caffeine,” she said.

“So you want to know how to catch these guys,” Mitch said, taking a hefty bite of stew.

“You’re the expert in fugitive apprehension,” Hans said. “What do you suggest?”

“If they’re not frozen by now?” He swallowed. “Okay, we have to think like them. Chapman, he wants to get out of here as soon as possible. Killing the Trotskys was killing time, as far as he was concerned. He’s bored and scared—he doesn’t want to go back to prison. Which means he’ll be stupid and dangerous.”

“I called in for reinforcements,” Tyler said, “but it’ll take time for them to get here. And we’re going to be losing Nash and Peter—they’re taking Wyatt and Ben to Island Park as soon as the blizzard breaks.”

“What about calling on the Worthingtons to help?” Jo asked. “Their ranch is northeast of here. The parents live there and a couple of their kids and grandkids. It’s one of the last working ranches in the valley.”

“How close?”

“The main house is fifteen miles up the road to the east, closer to Elk Lake.”

“Could Chapman have made it there?” Mitch asked, concerned.

“We talked to Nash in Lakeview when we first had the confirmed sighting,” Tyler said. “Nash is a volunteer deputy and he has a phone tree of sorts. He contacted everyone in the area to be on the lookout for them.”

“But Chapman’s armed,” Mitch said.

“So are the Worthingtons,” Jo said. “They raise cattle and sheep and their boys are mostly grown men. They’re trustworthy people, but if they see a stranger who doesn’t look right, they aren’t going to turn their back on him.”

“Any other residences nearby?” Mitch asked.

“There’s only about a dozen families who live here year-round,” Jo said. “Us, the Worthingtons, Nash—a couple others around Lakeview, a few near Elk Lake. Most people who come here on vacation do so in the summer, though there have been people who’ll come in if the weather is predicted to be good enough for skiing, usually closer to the spring,” Jo said.

“We’ll contact the Worthingtons in the morning and see if they can spare anyone. I’d like to get the kids out of here as soon as possible, but I don’t want to spare a deputy. We need people here to search for Doherty and Chapman, and others to guard against them.”

Peter Nash entered the kitchen. “Only Kyle Worthington and his brother Lance are at the ranch,” the veterinarian’s son said.

“Where is everyone?” Jo asked.

“Elizabeth had her baby a couple days ago and they left before the first storm hit.”

“I didn’t know,” Jo said. Elizabeth Worthington Stuart lived in Missoula. “We can’t use Kyle or Lance. They’re kids themselves.” Kyle was seventeen and Lance two years older.

“But would their ranch be a good place to take the kids?” Tyler asked.

Jo nodded. “It’ll be a trek. Only if the weather clears some. They could double up on the snowmobiles and get over there in an hour, maybe a little more. It’s a pretty straight shot on South Centennial Road, provided there’re no major impediments.”

“Billy Grossman can take them,” Tyler said.

“What?” Jo asked.

“I need to get the boys and Leah to safety, but I don’t want to lose one of my deputies.”

“What about Craig and Sean Mann?” Mitch said. “They proved themselves today.”

Tyler nodded. “Good idea.”

“I think you should send our female guests, Kristy Johnston and Marie Williams, with them,” Jo said. “Kristy hasn’t handled this crisis well, and Marie is so young. We have plenty of snowmobiles. Enough if their men want to go with them. After what happened to Greg and Vicky…” The knowledge still made her ill. She’d known Greg. She’d liked him, and his new wife. Shared dinner with them their first night here.

“I’ll talk to them tonight,” Mitch said. “I’d like to have as many men here who are versed in self-defense, but I don’t think either Brian Bates or Cleve Johnston are ready for this.”

“I have FBI SWAT out of Helena on standby,” Hans said. “They’ll be here in less than three hours after they get weather clearance. But what are we going to do about Doherty and Chapman in the meantime?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Mitch said, “and I think the best course of action is to sit tight. Get the kids out as early as possible, but then complete lock-down.”

“Make them come to us,” Tyler said, understanding Mitch’s methodology. “You said Chapman was restless.”

“Bingo. He won’t be able to sit still another day. He’s been in hiding for two days, he’s going to be half-crazy. I hate doing nothing,” Mitch added, “but sometimes the key to fugitive apprehension is to wait them out.”

“Sounds like a plan. I think we’ve done all we can tonight,” Tyler said. “I’ll talk to the Manns about escorting the kids tomorrow.”

“I’ll talk to Trixie about Leah,” Jo said. “I’m sure she’ll agree.”

“And I’ll take the two couples,” Mitch said.

“That leaves me to clean the kitchen,” Hans interjected.

“You don’t have to do that,” Jo said. “I can take care of it.”

“No, I’d like to. It’ll relax me, give me time to think.”

They split up and Jo found Trixie in their grandfather’s suite. The scouts were asleep in sleeping bags on the floor of the living room. The door to the right was her grandfather’s bedroom; the door to the left was where Trixie and Leah were staying. Deputy Al Duncan was sitting up at the single door leading to the deck.

“Ms. Sutton.” He tipped his head.

“Deputy.” Her heart lurched as she stared at the sleeping boys. Timmy could have—should have—been one of them.

But today, she had helped ensure that six families—including Tyler—had their sons brought in safe. They’d be going home tomorrow.

“Is something wrong?” Trixie asked.

Jo hadn’t seen her sister sitting on the far side of the room at the kitchenette table where their grandmother used to play solitaire in the wee hours of the morning when she couldn’t sleep. Trixie was doing the same thing. Jo hadn’t noticed the faint sound of cards sliding against cards until it stopped.

“No.” Jo carefully wove her way among the sleeping bodies, noticing Leah lying on the side closest to Trixie. It was just like her niece to not want to be left out. She bent down to pull the blanket up. Love swelled. Whatever awful things had happened that day four years ago, Leah had come out of it quite a wonderful girl.

Jo sat down across from Trixie. “I was talking with Tyler and the federal agents. They’re going to move the kids to the Worthington ranch first thing in the morning, if the blizzard passes. I think Leah should go with them.”

In the faint light, Trixie shook her head. “She’ll be a sitting duck! Look at what happened to you when you went to the Kimball homestead. You were nearly killed. Wyatt was shot.”

“It’s not Leah they want.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“The FBI agents think—”

“They don’t know anything. They haven’t been able to catch these guys for nine days! They came all the way from California to Montana. It’s ridiculous to think that they can stop them now.”

Jo shook her head. “You’re being fatalistic.”

“Me? That’s a switch.”

“Shh.”

“Don’t shh me!” But Trixie glanced at Leah and lowered her voice. “I’m scared.”

“Me, too.”

“How can they protect all those kids?”

“Tyler is going to ask Sean and Craig Mann to escort them.”

“No deputy?”

“I think the Manns proved themselves today, Trix. If we take them to the Worthingtons, it’s a clear shot up the road. They can get there without trouble on the snowmobiles, ninety minutes max.”

Jo softened her voice, touched Trixie’s hand. Her sister was trembling. “You can go, too.”

“What about you?”

“I’m staying here.”

“But it’s you he’s after.”

“That’s why I don’t want to be anywhere near the kids. It’s safer for them. If anybody’s watching, they’ll know I’m not with them. They won’t follow.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know.” Everything Agent Vigo had said to her made sense. She didn’t understand Doug Chapman’s motivation, but Aaron Doherty wasn’t going to go after a bunch of preteens. He wanted her.

“You think Leah will be safe?”

“It will be safer than staying here.”

Trixie bit her lower lip. “O-Okay,” she whispered.

“What about you?”

Trixie shook her head. “I’m not going.”

“There’s something you need to know.” Jo glanced over to where Leah slept on the floor. Made sure her breathing was even, calm, that she was really asleep. Then she turned to Trixie. She had debated whether to share this information with her sister, but if the roles were reversed Jo would want to know the truth. It would come out in the media sooner or later. Jo leaned forward and whispered, “Aaron Doherty killed Linc in prison.”

Trixie’s eyes widened. “No.”

“He did. He told me, and the FBI confirmed. He killed Linc in some sort of vengeance revenge thing because Doherty was obsessed with me, or my books. I’m really not sure how it started, but it’s true.”