Already Trapped (Laura Frost FBI)

Laura’s car screeched to a stop half on the sidewalk outside the Governor’s mansion, her head whipping around in search of Nate. She saw him, his own car, coming in from the other direction and parking in front of her as she jerked her seatbelt away and sprang out. He lived closer. She’d hoped he might be here before her, but—

“What’s going on?” Nate asked, approaching her at a light jog. His tall and muscular frame was already encased in his standard black suit, as though he’d been on his way to work when she called him. Laura half-ignored him. There was a constant whine in the back of her head, a noise that was getting louder by the moment, telling her what she needed to do. A scream. Amy was in danger. Amy couldn’t wait.

“We have to go inside,” Laura said, pushing right by him and walking toward the gate. It was set a little back from the road, blocked, but for now unguarded. She drew her gun out of the holster, feeling the familiar weight of it in her hands.

“Whoa! Laura!” Nate barked, rushing to keep up with her. “Slow down! What the hell is going on?”

“In there,” she said, keeping single-minded focus on the gate. She pushed it open. It was unlocked. Whenever she’d been here, it was always unlocked. She guessed that with guards in place now, Fallow didn’t feel the need to keep the gate shut—but where were they?

Every time she’d been past here before, there was one stationed outside, if not two. Where had they gone? Were they—

“Laura, stop!” Nate said, moving around in front of her and blocking her way. His arms were spread out to either side, like he was trying to catch her, and his face was flooded with panic. “What’s happening? Why do you need your gun?”

“He’s dangerous,” Laura hissed, moving to go around him. They were only a short walk from the front door of the mansion. There was no one there, either. She couldn’t stop to explain everything now, not yet. She’d promised him, but there was too much to unpack. And Amy needed them. She needed

them now.

“I’m not disputing that, but a gun?” Nate said. “We don’t know if he’s armed. We can’t just barge in here. He’s the Governor. What’s going on? Do you have a tip?”

“I heard something,” Laura said, her attention snapping to the house. “A scream. Just now. Didn’t you?”

“What? No,” Nate said, turning his head to the side all the same, trying to catch any noise from the building.

Laura hadn’t heard anything. Not just now. But it didn’t matter. If they waited outside here for too long, there would be a scream. The scream of a little girl being hurt in ways that she couldn’t come back from. Laura wasn’t going to wait for that.

“I heard it,” Laura said grimly. “And the bodyguards are gone. Something’s happening, Nate.”

Nate hesitated, his arms dropping by his side. It was all Laura needed. She pushed past him, rushing forward. She kept her gun low but in front of her, clasped in both hands, ready to pull it up and aim if she needed to. She heard Nate swear under his breath, then follow her, making it back to her side just as she reached the door.

“Dammit, Laura,” he said, under his breath. “You better be right.” He reached out before she had a chance to, yanking the door open.

They both held their breath. Laura couldn’t hear anything from inside. There was no sign of anyone. No housekeeper. No guards. No maids. When she’d been here in the past, she hadn’t been able to get far without running into someone. Now it was so deadly quiet, it made her hair stand on end.

She moved forward swiftly and silently. She didn’t call out a warning. She knew she was breaking protocol, but it didn’t even enter her mind. She didn’t want Governor Fallow to have a chance to run, or to stop whatever he was doing so he could look innocent. She wanted to find him, about to commit the act. When Nate saw it too, there would be no way for the Governor to deny it.

They turned a corner into a wide, open sitting room, and Laura nearly dropped her gun at the sight of what it had been transformed into.

The comfortable, plush sofa was spattered with blood spray. There were gluts of it on the floor, and a fine mist across a glass coffee table in the center of the room. But the sight that really arrested Laura’s attention was the woman at the center of all the blood.

Mrs. Fallow.

She was lying there, her face a bloody mess, her clothes torn and stained with so much blood it seemed impossible. One arm was flung out, the hand stretched across the once-beige carpet as if she were still trying to get away.

A noise caught Laura’s attention and she swung the gun up in front of herself, her heart pounding in her ears. But in the next instant, she realized that the sound had come from Mrs. Fallow herself. A gurgle. A kind of rattling breath.

She wasn’t yet dead.

“Nate,” Laura said, her voice quiet but urgent, prompting her partner forward. He fell to his knees beside Mrs. Fallow, disregarding the blood, while Laura stood watch. She kept her gun up, her eyes darting in all directions. Where was he? Was he upstairs already, or still down here? Was he waiting for them?

“Mrs. Fallow,” she heard Nate say, as she turned in a full circle to check all directions. “Can you hear me?”

“I tr…”

Laura’s attention snapped back to Mrs. Fallow as she spoke. The words died in her throat. Even the movement of her mouth seemed to cause her so much pain.

“What is it?” Nate asked, leaning down closer.

“I tried,” Mrs. Fallow said again, loud enough for Laura to hear, and then something else that Laura was too far away to catch.