The Trigger Read online

  Novels by L.J. Sellers

  Detective Jackson Mysteries

  The Sex Club

  Secrets to Die For

  Thrilled to Death

  Passions of the Dead

  Dying for Justice

  Liars, Cheaters & Thieves

  Rules of Crime

  Crimes of Memory

  Standalone Thrillers

  The Trigger

  The Baby Thief

  The Gauntlet Assassin

  The Lethal Effect

  THE TRIGGER

  Copyright © 2013 by L.J. Sellers

  All rights reserved. Except for text references by reviewers, the reproduction of this work in any form is forbidden without permission from the author.

  Cover art by Gwen Thomsen Rhoads

  Copyedit by Jodie Renner

  ISBN (ebook): 978-0-9840086-4-3

  ISBN (print): 978-0-9840086-5-0

  Published in the USA by Spellbinder Press

  eBook editions by eBooks by Barb for booknook.biz

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual people, locations, or events is coincidental or fictionalized.

  Contents

  Novels by L.J. Sellers

  Chapter 1 • Chapter 2

  Chapter 3 • Chapter 4

  Chapter 5 • Chapter 6

  Chapter 7 • Chapter 8

  Chapter 9 • Chapter 10

  Chapter 11 • Chapter 12

  Chapter 13 • Chapter 14

  Chapter 15 • Chapter 16

  Chapter 17 • Chapter 18

  Chapter 19 • Chapter 20

  Chapter 21 • Chapter 22

  Chapter 23 • Chapter 24

  Chapter 25 • Chapter 26

  Chapter 27 • Chapter 28

  Chapter 29 • Chapter 30

  Chapter 31 • Chapter 32

  Chapter 33 • Chapter 34

  Chapter 35 • Chapter 36

  Chapter 37 • Chapter 38

  Chapter 39 • Chapter 40

  Chapter 41 • Chapter 42

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Saturday, April 27, 1:30 p.m.

  Agent Jamie Dallas charged across the opening and dove behind a barricade. A shot flew over her head as she lunged, missing her by an inch, and landed with a thunk in the wall behind her. Damn! That was close! Heart hammering, she crawled to the end of the short wooden structure. The bastard was close now, firing nonstop. But where the hell was he? She peeked around the edge, hoping to spot him in the dim light. Another shot nearly hit her cheek, and the whistling noise made her heart skip a beat.

  But now she had his location. He was in the burned-out church, shooting from a high window to her left. How to lure him out into the open? Playing dead might work. Dallas pulled in a deep breath and tried to feel calm, but adrenaline made her heart ring in her ears. She counted to sixty, the wait nearly unbearable. The faint sound of footsteps on stairs signaled that her ploy had worked. He was coming to her. Another twenty seconds passed while he stood in the doorway, assessing the situation. Or so she assumed. From her squat behind the barricade, she couldn’t see him, only feel his presence.

  It was time. Dallas ripped off her mask with one hand and shoved it into the air. As the mask drew fire, she lurched out from behind the wall, blasting at the figure in the doorway with her other hand. She nailed the assailant with three shots in row.

  “I’m hit,” he called out, his voice squeaky and disappointed.

  Dallas pumped her arm in the air, grinning. She crossed the dirt-and-straw floor and shook Nick’s hand. He was only fourteen, but he was a paintball champ and she’d beaten him and his companions three games in a row.

  “That was sneaky,” he complained.

  “I know, but it’s survival.” She glanced at his sweet young face and paint-splattered clothes and felt a pang of guilt. It wasn’t fair to take her frustrations out on the kids. “Good game.” She offered him a high five, set her long hair loose, and headed for the front counter. She felt the boys watching her as she walked. Even at twice their age, she was still young and fit enough to garner their attention.

  But paintball—and occasional skydiving—on weekends wasn’t enough to satisfy her need for excitement. She’d been cooped up in the Phoenix FBI office with white-collar crime for a couple of months and it was making her crazy. Her last undercover assignment had sent her to Oregon, where she’d infiltrated an eco-terrorist group and prevented a bombing. That was the kind of work she was meant to do. If she didn’t land another field assignment soon, she might have to take a black-ops freelance gig just to stay sane.

  Dallas paid her account and stepped outside. Time to move on.

  Chapter 2

  Wednesday, May 1, 3:30 p.m.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Randall Clayton stared at his wife across the bedroom. A stuffed suitcase sat on the carpet, and Emma tossed more clothes into an overnight bag on the bed.

  “My mother’s sick, and I’m going to stay with her for a while.” His wife turned and glared. “We talked about this.”

  “And I said no.” Randall crossed his arms, still blocking the doorway. The timing couldn’t be worse! He had a flash of hatred for her mother. “The meltdown could happen any moment! What if we have to blow the bridge and you can’t get back to Destiny?”

  Emma rolled her eyes, distorting her pretty face. “You’ve been predicting it for ten years, including the five I’ve been here. Nothing’s going to happen while I’m gone.”

  “You don’t know that! The financial system is on the brink of collapse, and an asteroid hit the Earth just last week. And they expect more.” Randall strode forward, grabbed her arm, and forced her to look at him. “I know your mother. She’ll guilt-trip you into staying for a long time. She never liked me.”

  Emma jerked free. “Her heart is failing, and I’m going. Get out of my way.”

  Her anger excited him, as it always did. But even if they had crazy-rage sex like they often did, it wouldn’t change anything. Randall fought to control himself. “You’re not taking Tate.” Their four-month-old baby watched from a car seat on the floor.

  “You know I am.”

  Damn! The birth of their son had changed Emma, made her more defiant. Randall’s heart hammered in full panic. He couldn’t let this happen! They were so close to being ready, and Emma knew too much to let her go. But how to stop her? A dark thought crossed his mind. Could he get rid of her for the greater good? Randall hated the idea. There had to be another way.

  Spencer would help him. His older brother had been there through all of his troubles, and they’d built this community together, starting with their side-by-side houses. Randall strode from the room. As soon as he was outside, he broke into a run, knocked once on Spencer’s door, then barged in.

  He found him sitting by Lisa’s bed, as usual. His brother’s wife had been dying of cancer for years, and she seemed down to her last few days.

  “I think it’s time.” Randall tried to sound calm and reasoned.

  “What do you mean?” Spencer kissed his wife’s gaunt face and stood. Lisa appeared to be sleeping.

  Randall explained briefly about Emma’s mother, then added. “What if she takes a long time to die, like Lisa has?”

  His brother cringed, but Randall knew he understood. They needed wives to produce the next generation.

  “Do you want me to talk to her?” Spencer headed for the living room.

  “It’s too late,” Randall said, following him. “Emma’s packing and planning to take Tate. We have to stop her, and there’s only one way.”

  Spencer spun around, eyes wide. “What are you saying?”

  Ra
ndall worked up his courage. “It’s time to quit waiting and make the meltdown happen.”

  Spencer paused, blinking rapidly. Finally, he said, “We’re not ready. We haven’t sold the business yet, and the generator isn’t performing as well as it should. Most important, I don’t have a new wife.”

  Randall reached for his brother’s shoulder, the way Spencer had always done with him. “We can delay the trigger for a few weeks, but we need to deal with Emma tonight before she leaves.” For a decade, they’d been stockpiling everything they would need, waiting for a social collapse or earth-changing storm that hadn’t happened yet. It was time to take charge.

  “Are we sure we want to do this?” Spencer asked, his voice trembling a little.

  “What choice do we have?” Randall filled with passion for their cause. “Global climate change is out of control. You know that if we don’t shut down the major polluters and vehicle emissions now, the planet will become uninhabitable and our species will die. Everything we’ve talked about over the years is still true—only worse than ever.”

  Spencer’s face grew pale and his eyes troubled. “It will be chaos out there, and eventually millions of people will die.”

  “They’re going to die anyway.” Randall didn’t let himself think about it. “This way will be faster and less painful. Like euthanasia for a diseased society.”

  Spencer nodded. “The waiting is getting to all of us. We can’t afford to lose anyone else from the community, and we can’t live in limbo forever.”

  Randall’s nerves jangled with excitement and dread. This was the moment. He and his brother stood at the edge of a bottomless cliff, about to step off, hoping the hang glider they’d built themselves took them down safely.

  “What about Emma?” Spencer asked.

  Randall was ready. “I think I have a plan.”

  Chapter 3

  Monday, May 6, 8:47 a.m.

  Dallas entered the Phoenix bureau, pulled on her business jacket to survive the air conditioning, and headed for her office. Before she sat down, her desk phone rang—an internal call. She snatched it up, hoping like hell it would be an interesting assignment. Another day at the desk might break her. “Agent Dallas.”

  “It’s Gossimer. I need to talk to you about an undercover assignment.”

  Hallelujah! Dallas hustled down the hall to the corner office and didn’t bother knocking. “Good morning, sir.” She sat, e-tablet in hand, and grinned. “What’s the assignment?”

  “Don’t look so happy.” Special Agent Gossimer, a handsome man in his early sixties, had a crease in his brow. “This one would put you in a rural area in Northern California with a group of people preparing for the end of civilization.”

  “Preppers, huh?” Dallas was intrigued. The movement had been gaining steam in recent years. “What’s the bureau’s interest?”

  “The community is led by two brothers, Spencer and Randall Clayton. Randall’s wife, Emma Clayton, disappeared last Wednesday, along with their four-month-old son. She left on the evening of May first to go see her sick mother in San Francisco, but never arrived. Her mother called Emma’s father to see if he’d heard from her. Luke Caldwell contacted the bureau because he’s convinced Randall is holding his daughter somewhere on the Claytons’ property.”

  “Why can’t local agents get a warrant and go in?”

  Gossimer took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. His voice had a note of weariness. “Witnesses saw Emma drive away. More important, Randall voluntarily let an FBI agent search his home. But they’re survivalists, and the brothers own fifty acres with barns, greenhouses, and storage sheds, so she could be anywhere.”

  A dark thought crossed Dallas’ mind. “Emma and the baby could be dead.”

  “Maybe. But her father doesn’t think so. He says they’re preparing for end times and they need young women and children.”

  Dallas had a flash of apprehension. “My assignment would be to infiltrate the group by joining? Then try to locate the missing woman?”

  “Yes.” Gossimer met her eyes. He didn’t have to spell out the risks.

  “Let me guess. They’re heavily armed too.”

  “Of course.” Her boss glanced at the file on his desk. “They’ve been buying weapons, mostly handguns and hunting rifles, since they bought the property in early 2002.”

  “Any history of violence?” Not that it mattered. Dallas knew she would take the assignment.

  “None. That’s the good news. The brothers are college educated and had successful careers before they built the community, which they call Destiny. If I thought they were trigger-happy nutjobs who were plotting something, I wouldn’t send you in alone. We just want to locate Emma Clayton.”

  “Why me?” Dallas thought she knew.

  “You did an excellent job of infiltrating the eco-terrorists in Oregon. So when the request for a young female undercover agent was posted late Friday, I knew you were right for it.”

  Dallas couldn’t help but smile. Her instincts had put her in the right place at the right time on that case. “Thanks. Anything else I should know?”

  Gossimer grinned back. “To sweeten the deal, you look a bit like Spencer Clayton’s dying wife.”

  Creepy. But it could work. “So I target the older brother.”

  “That’s the strategy, for now.” Her boss leaned back. “But you don’t have to take the assignment. An agent in the ’Frisco bureau wants the case, but the field man in Redding thinks she’s too old.”

  “You know I’m in.” Just the thought of getting on a plane made Dallas’ body hum. “What’s my cover story?”

  “I think you need to have money in your background. A trust-fund gal who works when she wants to as a social media consultant.”

  “I like it. Who are my clients? Small companies and artistic individuals?”

  “Exactly. One of our tech people is putting up a website, and we’ll have business cards for you by the time your ID is ready.”

  “What inspired me to fly out to California and join the Destiny community? The recent shootings in my hometown? Fear of the national debt and financial collapse?”

  “The latter. More important, your fiancé recently died. Spencer will sympathize with that.”

  “Who’s my local contact?”

  “Agent Caleb McCullen.” Her boss pushed a thick stack of paper at her. “Here’s the background information on the Clayton brothers and the community. But I’ll send you PDFs if you prefer.”

  “Thanks for the assignment. I was going a little stir-crazy.” Dallas picked up the paperwork, knowing she’d read it on her e-tablet. “How long do you think I’ll be gone?”

  “That depends on how quickly you can get close to Spencer and be invited to join. You should plan for a month or two, but I expect you’ll work faster than that. You always do.”

  This could turn out to be her longest—and most challenging—undercover job yet. “It’ll take a few days to wrap up some personal business here.”

  “Sorry, but we need you on a plane tomorrow. Agent McCullen thinks Emma’s father might do something stupid if we don’t move on this immediately. The undercover unit will have your new paperwork ready and shipped to you shortly, but you’ll need to visit the DMV today.”

  She already had a name picked out. “I want to be Sonja Olivia Barnes.”

  “SOB?” Gossimer laughed, but it was a hollow sound.

  After answering emails and changing her voicemail message, Dallas left the bureau. Her main priority was to pack her clothing, but even before that, she had to take a box of personal items to FedEx. She kept a collection of photos, books, and emergency duct tape in a box that went with her on every out-of-town assignment. The knick-knacks made her temporary place look lived-in and personal if someone dropped by. The Redding office had sent the address of a long-stay motel where they’d booked her a suite. With any luck, she’d move out to the Destiny community within a week.

  In the meantime, she had to notify her c
ondo manager, call her friend Stacie, and say good-bye to her current boyfriend. She and Trevor had been dating about five weeks, and she suspected he would be more upset about the breakup than she was. Trevor had a good sense of humor and was an energetic lover—her top priorities—but she’d quit looking for a long-term relationship. Her specialty as an undercover agent kept her moving around, and sometimes her assignments took months.

  Dallas drove to her condo on the edge of Scottsdale, pleased by the sight of Camelback Mountain, which wasn’t really a mountain at all. But in a city that stretched forever into the desert, the view of the hill made her happy, even though it wasn’t anything like the mountains around Flagstaff where she’d grown up.

  Dallas called Stacie while she prepared the box for shipping. Her friend owned a beauty shop, and Dallas would get two things off her list at the same time. Stacie picked up after five rings. “I’m with a client, Jamie. Can I call you back in ten?” Stacie was one of the only people who still called her Jamie, but they’d known each other since high school.

  “I’m leaving town on assignment tomorrow, and I need a cut and color.”

  “Can you come right now? I’ll take an early lunch and squeeze you in.”

  “Of course. Thanks for making time for me.”

  “How long will you be gone this round?”

  “Maybe several months.”

  “Crap. Do you have time for dinner?”

  “Sorry, I have an early flight.”

  “See you in a few.”

  Dallas took another look at the photo of Lisa Clayton. Spencer’s wife had shoulder-length hair that, in a bottle, might be called light amber brown. Mrs. Clayton also had more natural curl than Dallas did, so she considered getting a perm too. Dallas slipped the photo into her shoulder bag, hoping it wasn’t a breach of protocol to show it to Stacie, one of the few people who also knew she worked for the FBI. Dallas had never told her parents, but they’d never been particularly involved with her life, and now that she was an adult, that was fine with her.

  Her Aunt Lynn knew, because Dallas stayed in touch with her. Aunt Lynn had given her the only normal, happy parts of her childhood. Whenever her parents’ drinking, fighting, and instability had spiraled out of control, she would call her aunt or grandmother, then pack her overnight bag and wait for one of them to pick her up. Often her parents would leave her with a cranky uncle while they partied, and later, as a teenager, she’d done a lot of sleepovers with friends. Her whole childhood had been spent on the move and now she couldn’t stop. Packing to go somewhere gave her a rush, a sense that things were about to get significantly better. On top of that, becoming another person for a while was the ultimate high.