The Intern -- Chapter 4

Before you read chapter 4, chapters 1-3 are below. If you haven't been keeping up with the story, you won't want to miss out.

Chapter 4

By the following Saturday, things started to catch up with Courtney as she tried remaining normal. She knew the local Sheriff went through the woods, looking for the owner of the abandoned rental. Courtney knew that their search would get them nowhere. The owner was the hunter she killed last week. She still saw his face where and whenever she closed her eyes. Courtney still smelled the odor of his blood on her after she sliced through his jugular. The fact that she killed a man haunted her dreams. Taking a life was something she struggled with, even though she knew the hunter left her no choice.

Waking up in her room at the McLaren, Courtney shot up into a seated position, breathing heavily as cold beads of sweat trickled down her face. She clutched her Glock in her left hand, looking frantically around her room before realizing where she was. In her mind, just moments before, she killed the hunter. It happened this way, almost nightly. Courtney killed a man at the end of every dream, and it woke her up from the deepest of sleep. She muffled her instinct to scream. Not screaming meant not drawing attention to herself. Drawing attention to herself by acting like something was wrong with her would be a mistake if they found the body, the body she buried in the woods.

Already after twelve, Courtney crawled out of bed and put on a pair of jeans. She forced a smile and went down to the lobby, her beat-up, old sneakers in hand. If there was any place in Lancaster that she could go to find out if there was anything new on the investigation, it was the lobby of the McLaren. She went down to the lobby, taking a seat to put her shoes on, hoping to hear the latest gossip from Helen. Helen was scurrying around behind the desk when she flopped into one of the cushy chairs. Helen looked back at Courtney, a wrinkled old smile beneath her gleaming eyes.

"Good morning, deary," said Helen, the age in her voice crackled. "Did you finally get some sleep?"

What did she mean by that wondered Courtney as she tied her shoes? She liked the old lady, but Helen was awfully intuitive at times. If Helen noticed Courtney was not sleeping well, who else might have also noticed? Courtney faked a smile, answering with a mere shrug of her shoulders as she continued tying her shoes.

"You look better today. Much less exhausted," said Helen.

"Why do you say that?" asked Courtney.

Being mothered for the first time since she was an eighteen-year-old girl felt different. There was actually someone in the world that noticed her. Courtney smiled as Helen poured two cups of coffee, adding flavored creamer from the mini-fridge behind the front desk. As Helen brought the two cups over, she commented on the dark rings that were missing. Courtney wore dark bags beneath her eyes the past several days. It was an unavoidable consequence of the nightmares, worrying about the local sheriff's effectiveness, and agent Morris missing his past eight check-ins. She feared at any moment the locals might find something tying her to the body in the woods. She feared something horrible happened to agent Morris.

"I guess I've been staying up too late," Courtney told Helen. "Between working at Sullivan's, writing my novel, and getting to know Lancaster, I am burning a lot of midnight oil."

Helen chuckled, her slightly wrinkled face jiggling slightly. She remembered what being a young and ambitious woman was like, albeit from years ago. The McLaren was her baby before women ran their own businesses. She completely decorated the rooms and the lobby, bringing what she told her husband was a classic feel to the place. Everything about the McLaren, she believed, should scream "escape" so their guests felt like it was worth the stay.

"Before my husband passed away, I was always the more aggressive one in our marriage. Sure, there was a time when his name had to be in front of mine, but he let me run things how I saw fit. Maybe that's what I like so much about you."

Courtney smiled. Her advice was sad but was equally good advice. Helen was so lonely that she wondered why the old gal had never moved on. She even considered, at their respective ages, Helen would make a great companion for Bo Sullivan. She would never meddle, but maybe she would invite Helen for a drink at the bar one day. She stood up, hugged Helen, and thanked her for no reason. Courtney felt an emotional connection to Helen, much the way she did Agent Morris.

While the two women hugged, they were distracted by the jingling of bells at the front entrance. It was Jeffrey McNally, the young deputy that stopped to visit Helen. He was the one asking questions about the abandoned car by Torra Park. Courtney's heart skipped a beat. She stood there, frozen in fear and experiencing an odd curiosity. As afraid that the young deputy was there to arrest her, she found him attractive in an old-fashioned cowboy way. She backed away from Helen, helping her older friend to her feet.

Helen looked behind her, happy to see the young deputy coming into her business. She liked the local sheriff and his guys stopped by to check on her pretty frequently. Since she rented cheap rooms by the week, the McLaren was a good place for drifters to find a warm bed for a while. Helen welcomed Jeffrey with a grandmotherly hug as she asked him about his newest mystery.

Jeffrey explained that they called off the search for a missing camper. The department had moved on to it being a missing person case.

"It could have been a stolen car," he told her. "We can't seem to get the rental company to cooperate, and they curiously sent someone to tow the vehicle already."

"Um...why's that curious?" Courtney asked him.

Helen realized that Courtney had yet to meet the handsome young deputy, at least not officially. She turned around, asking for them to excuse her manners.

"Courtney Morris, this is Deputy Jeff McNally."

Courtney smiled, staring into the eyes of the six-foot-four deputy. His dark eyes, chestnut-colored hair, and his slight amount of scruff made him hard not to notice. From the looks of his forearms, as they stuck out from his rolled-up sleeves, the young deputy was in good shape. He certainly looked that way to Courtney as she sized him up, admiring how he filled out his jeans.

"Pleasure, ma'am," Jeff said with a smile.

"It's really nice to meet you," Courtney said, getting a bit flustered.

"So, why was that so curious?"

McNally explained how the authorities hadn't even turned in the report on the car being abandoned. It took less than six hours before the rental company on record sent a tow company to pick up their Explorer. The sheriff's department couldn't figure out how they discovered the car was the subject of an investigation. Courtney was curious who the car was registered to, having stumbled on a couple of shell companies used by the hunters. She couldn't afford to tip the handsome deputy off that she might know something. Courtney opted to play ignorant.

"That is curious. Well, good luck with your case Deputy McNally," she said before excusing herself.

Courtney said her goodbyes and ran off to her room. Still strangely curious about the handsome deputy, Courtney looked back at him, flashing a smile over her shoulder. She felt a rush when their eyes briefly met. Unlike herself, she quickly averted her eyes, as quickly as Deputy McNally. Courtney felt, albeit briefly, like an innocent young girl again. Flirting with a handsome young man was something she had not done for a long time. That strangely warm feeling that she felt was something she had forgotten.

Courtney ran up the second flight of stairs with a smile still etched on her face. Her excitement distracted her from noticing that she was able to enter her room without the key. Courtney entered, flopped back onto her bed with an unusually reckless abandon. The feeling of youth as her hormones raged was short-lived as she started to notice an odor in the room. She looked around, knowing she was not alone. Courtney scrambled to the bedside nightstand, pulling the drawer open to grab her Glock. As she did, she heard a man's voice.

"Really, I thought I trained you better."

She turned, looking at the face of Agent Morris. Courtney rushed over to him, throwing her arms around "M" and resting her head against his thick-built shoulders. He winced, pulling back from Courtney to fake a smile. Courtney ran her hand over his right side. As she explored, it didn't take long to find the still bandaged shoulder was worse than he let on. Courtney looked up at her mentor, afraid that she had inadvertently hurt him or reinjured him.

"How are you here?" wondered Courtney.

Morris let go of Courtney. He walked around her small apartment, thumbing open drawers. Morris was making sure that she was well-armed and protected. As he looked around the apartment, checking the view from upstairs, he was proud of Courtney. She'd done well for herself. Thumbing open the last drawer, seeing the gun he gave her. He felt satisfied that she was ready for anything.

"Are you looking for this?" asked Courtney.

Seeing her standing there, holding his favorite liquor and two glasses, Morris smiled at Courtney. As she poured two drinks, motioning for Morris to join her, Morris took a seat across from Courtney. He laughed whenever he saw someone put ice with liquors. Morris was known to drink liquor straight and frequently throughout his career. It was why he was assigned to a desk before being pushed into recruitment.

"So," he looked at Courtney. "Who's the cop?"

"He's just a local. I think he stops in to check on Helen," explained Courtney.

Morris laughed, "If anyone was checking on anybody, it was you checking on his fitted jeans and big arms."

Courtney blushed. Morris was watching for a longer period than she realized. She knew that the handsome deputy caught her attention and held it for longer than she should have allowed. Whether Morris knew it or not, Courtney was human. Then it hit her. How did he get into her apartment, and what was he doing here?

"Don, why are you here? How did you get into my room?"

Morris grimaced. His face gave him away. As much as Courtney hoped this was a visit, he obviously was there with bad news. She looked at Morris, afraid of what he was about to say. Part of her was ready to get up and start packing her things.

"Did you have a visitor?" asked Morris.

How did he know about the Hunter? Morris was out of commission the past few weeks. If he knew, then who else knew? Courtney looked at him, asking him what he meant.

"You know I can crack any lock you put in front of me," he reminded Courtney. Morris taught Courtney how to pick locks. He carried a lock-pic set wherever he went. It was as much a part of his daily accessories as his gun, his badge, and his car. There were few places in the world that Morris couldn't get himself into with that pic set, a fact about which he was strangely proud.

"Fine," she exhaled. "What are you doing here?'"

"I came to watch your back," said Morris.

"What about work?"

Morris was going to be on the injured list for a while because of the shooting. His shoulder was no more healed up than it was the week after he was shot. Morris was supposed to be in the hospital still. He was lying when he said the doctors planned on releasing him. His contacts in the bureau warned him about the contract out on him and the witness. When he got the warning, he planned on leaving the hospital as soon as he got his energy up enough to disappear.

"Don," sighed Courtney. "You should go back to the hospital, at least until you're a hundred percent."

He wasn't going back to the hospital. There was no way that he was going to let the group find him lying on his back. Don Morris would go down fighting, his pearl-handled Colt in his hands.

"Where's the body, Courtney?"

"What body?"

"The hunter you killed. Where's the body?" demanded Don Morris.

"Torra Woods," she relented. "Two miles outside of town."

"How did you know?" asked Courtney.

Don's insider in the bureau knew who the hunters were. When the abandoned rental popped up in the system it was flagged at the bureau's intelligence level. The plate checked back to EVO Systems, a shell company that traced back to a suspected group member, Manfred Powell. Inside the intelligence community, there were flags on certain identities and financials. The EVO Systems fleet car was flagged the minute the locals ran the plates.

"That's how they found the car before the locals could process it for evidence." Courtney poured another round for the two.

"So we need to move the body."

"Why?" she asked. "It's buried in a marked and shallow grave."

"Kiddo," sighed Morris. "Hunters are tagged."

The hunters were all tagged with radio chips beneath the skin behind their right ears. They were tagged from the first day before they were taken to the training site. Courtney sat there, shocked that the other hunters could be on their way so soon. It had only been a week. Assuming that he'd gone rogue and traced her to Lancaster, she thought it would take the hunters much longer to locate her.

"All we have to do is dig up the body," Morris told her. "Once we dig him up, I'll take the chip with me and head farther west before they get close to Lancaster. If I can get it a couple of hundred miles away I have an idea that will put some distance between it and us."

The idea of digging up a body didn't sit well with Courtney, but neither had killing someone. Now, instead of becoming an F.B.I. agent, Courtney was a killer and a grave robber. She wondered what she would be doing next year. Looking at her watch, Courtney realized how late it was getting. She was scheduled to work at Sullivan's. The Sunday shift meant the tips were going to be great. Coloradans loved the great outdoors, beer, and football.

"Tomorrow," said Courtney, grabbing one of her Sullivan's tee-shirts and a pair of jeans. "I've got to get to work."

"Right," sighed Morris. "Bartender at a cowboy joint," he quipped.

"Don't," she demanded.

Courtney had been alone for most of the summer. Finding a way to live without looking constantly over her shoulder was hard enough without Morris being judgmental. Why she cared what he thought was anyone's guess, but she unfortunately still cared.

"I'm going to go work the game shift, mostly because it's good money, and I could use the distraction."

"Buh, but...but," Morris stuttered.

"No buts!" Courtney asserted herself rarely but today was one of those days. She reinforced her decision.

"I'm going to go sling drinks and be around the people I've seen every day I didn't hear from you," she demanded. "Then we'll go dig up the dead guy in the woods so you can pull a computer chip out of his head."

"Alright, calm down. I'm sure it'll wait," Morris said, sensing he wasn't going to win. Besides, she had proven she could handle herself. She had, after all, survived a full-on assault by a hunter and put him in the ground. It was a better outcome than when Morris faced a hunter.

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