"Don't even finish that sentence." Her dark eyes flashed. "Either you pick me up after checking the house, or I'll be right on your tail. Your choice."
He recognized that tone—the operative who'd survived missions he'd never have clearance to know about. No point arguing.
"Why aren't we calling this in?" she pressed. "Armed, confused man on the run—that's usually an all-points bulletin situation."
Cory grabbed his keys, thinking it through. "Because the FBI will take over. They'll shoot first if Tom's armed and doesn't respond to commands. The man needs help, not a SWAT team."
"Copy that."
He headed for the door. "I'll check the scene, then swing back for you. Have gear ready—vests, comms, everything."
Twenty minutes later, Cory stood in Tom Morrison's study, staring at the computer screen. Janet hovered behind him, wringing her hands.
"I didn't mean to snoop," she said for the third time. "But when I saw he'd left his computer logged in... after that note..."
The document on screen was titled "What I've Done." Cory read quickly:
I never meant for it to go this far. The mistakes I've made, the people I've hurt. Mountain Angel didn't deserve this. Those pilots didn't deserve this. I kept telling myself I was doing the right thing, but somewhere I lost my way. The pressure, the money, the promises—none of it matters now. I can't undo what's been done. I can't fix what I've broken. Janet, I'm sorry. You deserved better than?—
The confession ended mid-sentence, cursor blinking after the dash.
"Like he couldn't finish it," Janet whispered.
Or someone interrupted him, Cory thought. He photographed the screen with his phone. In the corner of the study, a gun safe stood open, the rifle rack empty.
"What did he take?" Cory asked, though his gut already knew.
"His hunting rifle. The Remington." Janet's voice shook. "He hasn't hunted in years, but he keeps it cleaned and ready. Said it reminded him of better times."
"The note he left for you—where is it?"
Janet retrieved a piece of paper from the kitchen counter, hands trembling. Tom's usually neat handwriting was jagged, angry:
You betrayed me. Talked to them about me. Told them about the jacket. You're supposed to be on MY side. 40 yearsand you turn on me like everyone else. I know what you're trying to do. I won't let you.
The paranoia leaked from every word. Cory recognized the pattern—someone in crisis, lashing out at those closest to them.
"Our anniversary is today," Janet said, tears flowing freely. "He mentioned our special place. The old ranger station on Mount Ellis. We got engaged there, and when he's upset, he always talks about going back. About how things were simpler then."
Cory's blood chilled. Remote location, armed man in crisis, December weather—this could go very wrong, very fast.
"What if he hurts himself?" Janet's grip tightened. "Or someone else? You know that ranger station—hikers use it in winter sometimes. What if?—"
"We'll find him," Cory said firmly. "Janet, have you touched anything else? Moved anything?"
"No, I... I was afraid to disturb evidence. In case..." She couldn't finish the sentence.
"Lock up behind me. Don't answer the door for anyone except me or law enforcement. Not even Tom. Understood?"
She nodded, looking every inch the terrified wife watching her world crumble.
Back in his SUV, Cory called Izzy as he drove. She answered on the first ring.
"Tom's armed and on the run. Janet thinks he's headed to Mount Ellis—old ranger station where they got engaged."
"How armed are we talking?"
"Hunting rifle. Remington 700 from the looks of the safe. Decent scope." He took a turn faster than conditions warranted. "He left a paranoid note accusing Janet of framing him, and there's a partial confession on his computer."
