Come Get Me

C O M E G E T M E (A Caitlin Dare FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 1) M o l l y B l a c k CONTENTS PROLOGUE CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY ONE CHAPTER TWENTY TWO CHAPTER TWENTY THREE CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE CHAPTER TWENTY SIX CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT CHAPTER TWENTY NINE CHAPTER THIRTY CHAPTER THIRTY ONE EPILOGUE PROLOGUE Frank Rafter couldn’t wait for tonight’s work to be over. The high wind was making everyone’s job dangerous. This weather brought more risk - as an experienced conductor who’d worked on trains for well over a decade, he knew it meant power lines blown down, fizzing and sparking across the lines. It meant fallen tree branches, dark and deadly, lying across the tracks with the potential for a derailment. It was his biggest nightmare to think of the train veering off the tracks that way, hundreds of tons of high-speed metal, with the force of all its motion behind it, plowing into chaos and destruction. Only two more stops to go, he thought to his relief, as the train pulled into the station at the small town of Bridgeford, California. The doors hissed open, and a blast of frigid wind rushed in, making him shiver. Hearing a shout from the platform, his head turned sharply. Frank had observed that wild weather had an effect on the passengers. They behaved differently. Some shut down, retreating into their shells. But for others, it was as if the wind brought out the worst in them, making their behavior as unpredictable and destructive as the elements. There was trouble afoot tonight; he sensed it. The group of young men in carriage three were a potential problem, and he'd been keeping an eye on the five teens ever since they boarded two stops ago. They were rowdy, and he suspected they’d been drinking, although they hadn’t brought any alcohol on board. He could hear their voices now, loud and derogatory as they laughed about something, or someone, that wasn't as cool as they were. There were only a few other passengers on board this late train. In that carriage, it was just the group. There had been a couple of others, who’d quickly gone elsewhere when those guys had boarded. They were alone now, but he was worried they might go on the rampage and spill over into other carriages. He’d glimpsed, in one of the other carriages, a young woman on her own, asleep. He didn’t want them bothering her and knew from experience that a confrontation like that could get extremely unpleasant for a solo female passenger. Frank knew that he - forty-four years old, average height, unassuming demeanor - wouldn't stand a chance of controlling them if they got seriously out of hand. He was fit and strong thanks to the physical demands of his job, but he couldn't control a group of five drunken youths that decided to go rogue. He'd have to call in the railway police, he thought, and he was ready to do that. The only question was whether they'd get here in time, if things did start getting violent. Now, he paced into carriage three, where the group was clustered. They were sprawled over the seats, feet up, muddy shoes smearing the vinyl covers and the window glass, and one of them - a tall, gangly young man with a shock of dark hair and a scuffed leather jacket - had an unlit cigarette in his hand. He stared at Frank defiantly, with the lighter in the other. "No smoking on board the train," Frank said sternly, pointing to the sign, waiting for the torrent of abuse that he knew his words would unleash, along with the sight of his uniform, a reminder of an authority this group was rebelling against. "Hey Grampa, you think you can stop us?" the teen said, and Frank could read the signs of trouble in his stance. "Rules are for everyone," Frank said, and he was relieved that his words were calm and measured. "You gonna arrest us, old man? What do you think you are, a cop?" he sneered, as he got to his feet, muscles tensing. "If you're going to light the cigarette, do it off the train," Frank insisted. "Or what?" the man asked, grinning, and Frank felt his stomach twist. This was going to escalate. But then, another of the young men pulled his friend's arm. "C'mon. Let's go." With a deep feeling of relief, Frank realized this was their stop. They were leaving. He'd come back when they'd gone, look for what he expected to find - rips and slashes in the seat upholstery, graffiti scrawled or carved into the metal rails. Experience had taught him he'd see this, and the damage would need to be reported, creating more paperwork, more costs. But for now, at least, they were going, trooping out, dragging their feet and jostling against the seats. The smoker flicked his lighter as he reached the door, one of the others tossed a balled up food wrapper in Frank's direction so they all guffawed with laughter, their voices echoing around the deserted platform. Pressing his lips together, Frank picked it up and put it into the trash. At least they'd gone, and with them, his biggest fear that tonight's ride might end in trouble, violence, or crime. Now, he wouldn't have to call the police. He moved through to check carriage two, which was unoccupied, and then to carriage one, where he’d noticed the woman a few stops back, in a blue skirt and jacket, her coat slung around her shoulders. Her head was bowed and lolling sideways, her purse lying forgotten next to her. Still here? And still asleep? It