Chapter 8: The Devil's Bargain
"And what do you want it to look like?"
It's a loaded question, and we both know it. Over the past few days, Jake and I have developed something that goes beyond professional cooperation or even friendship. There's an attraction there, a connection, the possibility of something real if we both survive what's coming.
"I want it to look like I'm not running anymore," I say carefully. "I want to be Grace Parker again, not some fake identity created by the marshals."
"And after tomorrow? If everything goes according to plan and Webb's captured?"
"Then I guess I figure out what Grace Parker's life looks like when she's not afraid."
Jake reaches over and takes my hand. "Maybe she doesn't have to figure it out alone."
The implication makes my heart skip, but before I can respond, Sarah's voice crackles over the radio from her patrol car behind us.
"Jake, Grace, we have a problem. I just got a call from dispatch. There's been an incident in town."
Jake keys the radio. "What kind of incident?"
"Betty Carlson from the diner is missing. Her neighbor found the front door to her apartment open, signs of a struggle, and blood on the kitchen floor."
My blood runs cold. Betty, the kind waitress who refilled my coffee cup and worried about me looking peaked. Betty, who probably doesn't even know why she's been taken.
"When?" Jake asks tersely.
"Neighbor thinks sometime this afternoon. She was supposed to work the dinner shift but never showed up."
Jake floors the accelerator, and I grab the dashboard as we speed toward Cedar Falls. "Sarah, get on the horn with Agent Torres. Tell her Webb's timeline just accelerated."
"Already on it."
My mind races through the implications. Marcus Webb has Betty, which means he's using her as leverage to force me into a meeting on his terms, not ours. The carefully planned trap we spent hours designing is useless if he's dictating the location and timing.
"Jake, he's going to call me, isn't he? He's going to demand I meet him somewhere, probably alone, and he'll use Betty's life as insurance that I comply."
"Probably."
"Then we need to be ready with a new plan."
"Grace, whatever he demands, we don't give in to it. Hostage situations never end well for the hostages when you negotiate with killers."
I know he's right, but the thought of Betty in Marcus Webb's hands makes me sick. She's an innocent woman who got dragged into this nightmare simply because she was kind to a stranger.
We're still five miles from Cedar Falls when my phone rings. Unknown number, which means it's probably the call I've been dreading.
"Answer it," Jake says. "But keep him talking as long as possible."
I take a deep breath and accept the call. "Hello?"
"Grace Parker." The voice is cultured, familiar, and cold as winter. Marcus Webb, the man whose office I cleaned, whose accounts I managed, whose trust I thought I'd earned before I watched him commit murder.
"Hello, Marcus."
"I have something that belongs to your new hometown. A nice woman named Betty Carlson. She makes excellent coffee, by the way."
"Let her go. Your problem is with me, not her."
"My problem, Grace, is that you've been very busy since arriving in Cedar Falls. Meeting with federal agents, examining financial records, building cases. That was unwise."
Jake signals for me to keep the conversation going while he radios for backup units to converge on the town.
"What do you want, Marcus?"
"What I've always wanted. For you to disappear. Permanently. But since Marshal Bradley failed so spectacularly, I'll have to handle this matter personally."
"Where's Betty?"
"Safe, for now. But her continued safety depends entirely on your cooperation. Are you ready to listen to my terms?"
"I'm listening."
"Good. In exactly one hour, you will drive to the old mining road that leads to Copper Creek Falls. Come alone—no sheriff, no federal agents, no backup of any kind. If I see anyone following you or detect any surveillance, Ms. Carlson dies immediately."
I look at Jake, who's already pulling out a map to locate the meeting spot. He shakes his head grimly—Copper Creek Falls is even more isolated than the grain elevator, with multiple escape routes and perfect concealment for Webb's team.
"How do I know Betty's still alive?"
"Because I'm a businessman, Grace, not a monster. Ms. Carlson is simply insurance. Bring me what I need, and she goes home to her cat and her morning coffee routine."
"What do you need?"
"Everything. Every account number you memorized, every pattern you identified, every piece of evidence you've given to the FBI. I want a complete accounting of what you know about my business operations."
"And then?"
"And then you disappear, just like you should have six months ago. The difference is, this time, you'll do it permanently."
The line goes dead, and I stare at the phone with a mix of fear and anger. Marcus Webb has just confirmed everything I suspected about his ruthlessness and his resources. But he's also made a crucial mistake—he's assumed I'm still the same frightened accountant who ran from his office six months ago.
"Copper Creek Falls?" Jake asks.
"One hour. Alone, or Betty dies."
"Like hell you're going alone."
"Jake, I have to. If he sees you or any federal agents—"
"Then we make sure he doesn't see us." Jake grabs his radio. "Sarah, patch me through to Agent Torres immediately. Tell her the situation just changed dramatically."
Within minutes, Agent Torres's voice crackles over the radio. "Sheriff Morrison, I'm en route to Cedar Falls with a full tactical team. ETA forty-five minutes."
"Agent Torres, Webb has a hostage and he's demanding Grace meet him at Copper Creek Falls in one hour. He's threatened to kill the hostage if he detects any surveillance."
"Understood. We'll establish a perimeter at a safe distance and move in once we have visual confirmation of all subjects."
"That might not be fast enough," I interject. "Marcus is paranoid and experienced. He'll have contingency plans, escape routes, probably snipers positioned to watch for federal agents."
"Ms. Parker, do you have a better suggestion?"
I think quickly, my mind automatically analyzing the tactical situation the way I used to analyze financial data. "What if the surveillance isn't federal agents? What if it's local law enforcement conducting routine patrol activities?"
"I'm listening."
"Marcus knows the FBI is investigating him, so he'll be watching for federal tactical teams. But local sheriff's deputies doing normal patrol work in their own county wouldn't necessarily trigger his suspicions."
Jake nods. "We know the terrain, we know the back roads, and we can position ourselves as backup without looking like a coordinated federal operation."
"It's risky," Agent Torres says. "If Webb's people identify local law enforcement as a threat, they'll react accordingly."
"They'll react accordingly anyway once they have what they want from me," I point out. "Marcus Webb doesn't leave witnesses, and that includes Betty."
"Alright. Sheriff Morrison, coordinate with your people. But remember, this is still a federal operation. Once we move in, your people follow our lead."
"Understood."
Jake calls Deputy Sarah Collins and two other deputies, briefing them quickly on the situation. The plan is simple: they'll establish overwatch positions along the roads leading to Copper Creek Falls, maintaining radio contact and providing backup when the federal agents move in.
As we drive toward the meeting location, I try to prepare myself mentally for facing Marcus Webb in person for the first time since that horrible night in Chicago. He's not just my former boss anymore—he's a killer who's destroyed lives and corrupted institutions to protect his criminal empire.
But I'm not the same terrified witness who fled Chicago six months ago. I've learned to fight, to think strategically, to trust people who've earned it. And I have something Marcus Webb doesn't: the absolute certainty that what I'm doing is right.
"Grace," Jake says as we approach the turnoff for the mining road, "whatever happens in there, remember that you're not alone. We've got your back."
"I know." I check my watch—five minutes until the meeting time. "Jake, if something goes wrong, if Marcus gets away—"
"He won't."
"But if he does, promise me you won't let him hurt anyone else in Cedar Falls. Whatever it takes."
Jake looks at me with an expression I can't quite read. "Grace, nothing's going to happen to you. I won't let it."
"You can't promise that."
"Watch me."
I want to kiss him. Right here, right now, before I drive up that mountain road to face a killer. Instead, I squeeze his hand and get out of his patrol car to transfer to my rental vehicle.
"One hour," I say. "If you don't hear from me in one hour, assume the worst."
"Thirty minutes. If I don't hear from you in thirty minutes, we're coming in."
I drive toward Copper Creek Falls with my heart pounding and my mind focused. Marcus Webb is about to learn that Grace Parker isn't running anymore.
She's hunting.