Then the sudden rumble of a powerful engine sounded from around the corner. A big black truck hurtled past her, close enough to blast heat across her back and rip hair loose from her bun.
It kept going, through the gate and out of the compound. A moment later, another man turned the corner, arms swinging loosely, an AK-47 slung over his shoulder.
This guy looked like a cult leader. Taller and leaner than Butler, he had sandy blond hair that curled around his ears and a face that was probably attractive when he wasn’t scowling.
Evelyn risked a glance at Jen, wondering who the newcomer was, but Jen stayed silent.
Still, Jen and Butler were obviously familiar with each other, so this must’ve been the person Jen had spoken to when she’d first left the SUV. The one she’d claimed to know, sounding surprised.
“We’ve got to take care of them,” Butler said in the sort of casual tone that was more appropriate for ordering dinner than discussing the murder of two federal agents.
The new guy shook his head. “I don’t think you should do that.”
“They could ruin things for us.”
“It’s a problem,” the blond guy agreed. He was dressed in camouflage, too, but wore no hat or gloves. Although his pale skin was ruddy from being outside, he looked comfortable.
Evelyn spoke up. “There’s no problem here.”
“Shut up!” Butler shouted at her. “This is the start of everything,” he said to his companion. “It doesn’t matter what we do with these two.”
“Killing them will just bring more feds,” the other man argued as Evelyn tried to work out his role.
Other than as a possible voice of reason. She inched her hands down slightly, praying that this guy could convince Butler to let them go.
If this was set up like a typical cult, maybe he was a trusted higher-up who took orders from Butler and enforced them with the followers? Cults often referred to guys like that as lieutenants.
Evelyn glanced quickly around. But if she was right about that, where were the followers? Were there any? If so, why hadn’t they appeared when the gunshot went off? And what did Butler mean when he said this was “the start of everything”?
“That one—” Butler waved his gun at Evelyn “—is the newbie. The other one, Jen Martinez here, has been sniffing around our place for months.”
“Who cares? We’re not doing anything wrong,” the new guy said smoothly.
Except owning illegal weapons, but Evelyn didn’t mention that.
“Well, now I can’t let them leave,” Butler said, and there was a little too much glee in his tone.
Evelyn glanced at Jen again, willing the other agent to look at her. How were they going to get out of this? Did Jen have any kind of connection with Butler or the new guy that she could use?
Talking seemed like their best bet, especially now that there were two cultists with weapons and Jen was unarmed. But Evelyn couldn’t decide which approach to take.
Jen kept her gaze firmly on Butler. “Of course you can let us leave,” she told him. “You haven’t taken things too far. Not yet. Let’s keep it that way.”
“Maybe you should lock them up,” the blond guy suggested, ignoring Jen. “Drive their vehicle out of here.”
“Why would you need to do that?” Evelyn asked. “If nothing’s happening—and we certainly haven’t seen anything that would require our attention—why would you want the FBI out here searching for us?” Before he could respond, she added, “And if you think her supervisor doesn’t know we’re here, you’re mistaken. This is the first place they’ll look if we don’t show up in the next hour.”
Butler shrugged. “Can’t be helped.” He nodded at his lieutenant. “Maybe you’re right about hanging on to them for a bit. Check them, Rolfe.”
“Ward.” Jen tried again as Rolfe frisked her for any hidden weapons. “I’ve always been straight with you. This isn’t necessary.”
He ignored her and then Rolfe was standing behind Evelyn, close enough to make all her muscles tense. He emptied her holster and took her cell phone. Then he patted her down so thoroughly that Evelyn knew he was practiced at carrying concealed.
She was convinced he had another weapon on him. Not that she could do anything about it.
He gestured toward the building, and she and Jen began walking in that direction. Jen looked shell-shocked and furious, but she stared straight ahead as her shoes crunched on the frost-covered grass. She made no further effort to protest, almost as if part of her was glad they were getting to see inside the compound.
Butler walked close behind them, his AK-47 leveled inches from Evelyn’s back.
“You staying?” Butler asked gruffly, and it took Evelyn a minute to realize he was talking to Rolfe.
She frowned and glanced over her shoulder.
Rolfe had fallen into step behind Butler, but his eyes locked on Evelyn’s as soon as she looked at him.
She stumbled, then averted her gaze. Why wouldn’t Butler’s lieutenant stay? Unless he wasn’t a lieutenant. Unless he had some other role at the cult. But what role would require him to leave? Then again, why had the driver of the truck left?
What the hell was going on at the Butler Compound?
* * *
“You’re going to Montana,” the head of BAU told Greg Ibsen as soon as he walked through the door of his boss’s office.
“What?” Greg stopped abruptly in the dull gray room. “Did Evelyn’s interview with Cartwright give us something?”
Greg tried to keep the surprise out of his voice. He’d been a profiler with BAU a long time. Long enough to know when Dan Moore was sending someone on a long-shot assignment as punishment.
Dan frowned at him, probably able to read every thought running through his mind, since he was a profiler, too. “No.” He tapped his pen against the towering pile of legal pads on his desk. “There’s another situation in Montana.”
“If Evelyn’s already there, maybe she should take it,” Greg suggested. He’d trained Evelyn, and he knew her as well as anyone could. Whatever the case was, she could handle it. And if Dan didn’t start giving her real assignments again soon, he was afraid she’d leave the unit.
“Too late. She’s on her way back,” Dan dismissed him, draining his cup of coffee as if it was water. “You’ll probably pass each other in the air. Besides, she doesn’t have much experience with this kind of case.”
“What is it?” Greg asked, dreading the call home he’d have to make, telling his son, Josh, that he’d be missing his first hockey game. Greg’s family was used to it; this was the life of an FBI agent. But it still wasn’t easy to hear their disappointment, shaded with resignation—as
