A/N: Thank you, Danielle and Fritzen, for your comments. I love hearing from you and reading your thoughts/theories. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

1822

That evening, the team found themselves sitting in a private room of a hotel overlooking the main street of town. As they sat spread out in the cramped room, Rufus asked, "So, what are we doing here?" he glanced around the dimly lit and terribly decorated room, "We're not seriously planning on becoming super sleuths here, are we?"

Lucy chewed on her thumb as she thought over the details they knew. "Something isn't right - "

"You think?" Rufus retorted. "There's a murderer on the loose - "

"No, the details themselves don't add up," she corrected.

Rowan nodded. "Do ye know of anyone in history who did something such as this?"

"Not during this time…" Lucy started, pausing to think again. "I'm not sure…"

Rufus muttered, "It's not Jack the Ripper again, is it?"

"No," Lucy scoffed, brows drawing together. "Why would you - "

Gunfire outside on the street caused them to stop talking. Rowan carefully inched closer to the window, pushing the eyelet lace curtains to the side to peek out.

"What is it?" Lucy whispered.

Rowan kept his gaze focused outside. "There's a mob outside," he said softly. "Believe it or not, they're carrying pitchforks."

Rufus groaned, letting his head fall back so his gaze drifted to the ceiling. Flynn shifted in his place as he asked, "They're going on a manhunt?"

"Looks like," Rowan confirmed, dropping the curtain back over the window.

A sudden knock at their door startled all of them. Flynn motioned for the others to stay put as he approached the door. The knock landed again, this time, a voice called out to them, "I know you're in there! We need your help!'

Flynn opened the door and was face to face with the deputy. "What can we do for you, deputy?"

"Your murderer killed the sheriff," he said. "We need your help finding this son of a bitch."

Flynn nodded, glancing over his shoulder to the others. "Let's go."

"I think," the deputy began, "your lady friend should remain behind. It's not safe."

"You said earlier he was only attacking men," Flynn recalled. "Has he changed his motive?"

The deputy shook his head. "No, but - "

"She's coming with us," Rowan stated, pushing by the deputy. Lucy and Rufus followed behind with Flynn closing the door and bringing up the rear.

The group exited onto the street. Glancing around, they saw the locals up in arms as they sought this person out. The deputy stopped beside Rowan and said, "I'll do what I can to keep the locals calm but I'm not going to be able to keep them sated for long."

Rowan nodded. "I understand. Do what ye can." He turned to the others. "Come on. We must make haste." As they rushed down the street, Rowan stated, "We don't have much time to find whoever it is here."

"What exactly is the plan here?" Rufus asked, keeping close, "We don't even know who we're looking for!"

Rowan didn't stop. "We begin our search where the sheriff was killed."

Lucy asked, "Do we even know where this happened?"

They rounded the corner and spotted a group of people swarming the back streets of the shops. Rowan pointed across the street towards them. "Five will get you ten," he began, "that's a good place to start."

The four marched over to the crowds, pushing forward to the front of the group to get a better look. By the time they elbowed their way to the front of the angry mob, they were standing on the edge of a grisly scene.

The dirt ground was saturated with cold blood. Remaining behind in the red-stained earth was a pair of hands, feet, and the head of the sheriff. The angry locals clamored about, shouting their decision to hunt this madman down. Others cried, shielding their children's eyes to rush back to the safety of their home.

Lucy swayed as she began to lose balance, putting a hand over her mouth. Rufus grabbed her by the elbows, leading her a few feet away before she passed out on them.

Rowan and Flynn examined the remains closely. Rowan muttered, "Perhaps it's best to leave those two at the hotel after all."

Flynn's eyes darted up at Rowan before turning back to the others. He saw Rufus trying to fan Lucy with his wool cap. "They'll be fine," he replied, turning his gaze back to the bloody mess before them, "she doesn't handle blood well."

Rowan hummed a response as they studied the mess. "Looks like a dull blade hacked these off," he mentioned, pointing to the limbs.

Flynn nodded, grimacing at the evidence supporting Rowan's claims. As he looked at the head, he noticed the blunt force trauma that cracked the man's head in. "Looks like he took a nasty hit to the head." His eyes drifted across the ground toward the alley, spotting something behind some water barrels near the building.

Rowan turned to examine the head, nodding in agreement with Flynn's assessment. "What do ye suppose could make a strike like that?"

"A rather large stick or rod, perhaps," Flynn suggested, standing up.

Rowan's eyes flitted up to meet his gaze. "What makes ye so certain?"

Flynn pointed to the object tossed behind the water barrels. "Because it would appear our friend dropped his weapon during his escape."

After standing, Rowan neared it, examining it carefully. "This is odd…"

"What's that?" Flynn asked, glancing over Rowan's shoulder.

Rowan turned to face Flynn. "Take a look at this," he held up the weapon, "it's not from here."

"'Here' meaning - "

"Meaning not from this time," Rowan stated. Flynn studied the weapon in Rowan's hand, coming to the same conclusion as Rowan. Rowan confirmed, "It looks like a piece of rod-iron fencing was turned into a spear."

Flynn's brows drew together as he thought over the details. His gaze turned back to the bloody mess behind them. He knew this case somehow but was struggling to piece it together.

"Ye all right?" Rowan asked, breaking Flynn's train of thought.

Flynn blinked over at him. "Fine," he lied. "Let's follow the trail here. It should lead us closer to him."

"What about them?"

Flynn glanced over his shoulder to see Lucy and Rufus still sitting away from the scene, Lucy was seemingly a little less pale than she was a moment before. He also knew if they waited for her, they'd miss their chance to find the guy. "They'll be fine," he said. "Let's go."

1781

Wyatt and Jiya were pushed hard to their knees inside an old hut, hidden on the opposite end of the island. Wyatt heard Jiya hiss in pain the moment her knees hit the stony ground. Glancing over to make sure she was okay, his eyes darted up to their two captors.

The two kept their pistols trained on them. Wyatt's eyes narrowed, waiting for the two to speak. He didn't have to wait long. The man blinked at Wyatt, smirking. "You can glare at me all you want, boy," the man told him. "It won't help you."

"Who are you?" Wyatt asked, voice holding an edge to it.

The man's smile widened as he turned to Rachel. "I'm going to find George," he said. "If they move even an inch, shoot them."

"I intend to," she replied with a toothy grin, eyes bouncing back to them. "We're going to have fun while you're gone - "

"No," the man scolded her as he stepped closer to the door. "Not these two. George has been waiting for them."

Rachel's smile disappeared and a scowl took its place. She jutted her jaw out in disappointment. "Fine," she said curtly. "Hurry up. I don't want to be bored for long."

The man pointed to her, silently lecturing her to stay away from Wyatt and Jiya before exiting the hidden hut. Wyatt turned his gaze back to Rachel. The young woman heaved a sigh, twirling her pistol slightly in her hand as she crossed the room. Bracing her back and left foot against the wall, she leaned into it, lifting her eyes to meet his.

When it became clear she wasn't going to say anything, Wyatt asked, "Who are you? Who is George?"

"Why does it matter?" she questioned, spinning her pistol in her hand again.

Wyatt licked his lips. "What do they want with us?"

"They?" she repeated. "What makes you think there's more than one?" she smirked, shaking her head slightly, "It doesn't matter."

"What does this George want with us?" Wyatt demanded. "That man said George wanted us...for what?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "You don't shut up, do you?"

Wyatt asked, "What are you getting out of this?"

Rachel pointed her pistol at Wyatt's face. "If you don't shut up, I'll make it so you can't speak anymore."

"Please," Jiya started. "Please…tell us what we've done wrong…"

Without moving away from her position, her eyes bore into Wyatt's as she answered, "You've been outplayed...outsmarted..."

"What?" Wyatt muttered.

"That's what George said," Rachel explained, still pointing her pistol at Wyatt's face. "He's not someone you want to trifle with."

Jiya asked, "What did he promise you?" Rachel side-glanced over to Jiya. "Did he promise to make you rich or famous?"

The corners of Rachel's lips curved upward slightly. "I don't need George to become famous or rich," she replied confidently. "I'm a pirate - "

"Pirate?" Wyatt repeated. "The piracy era is over - "

"Not for me," Rachel spat, turning her gaze back to the man. "I've killed people before - several, in fact - and I'd gladly do it all again."

Jiya cocked her head at Rachel. "Then...forgive me for asking but…" she paused for a moment, making sure she had Rachel's full attention before continuing, "What do you need George for?" When Rachel's brows drew closer in confusion, Jiya explained, "If you're a great pirate...why do you need George?"

Rachel's lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't need anyone."

Wyatt tilted his head at her subtly. "That's not how it seems," he told her. "It looks like you work for him and not the other way around."

Rachel scoffed. "I work for me and me alone…" She sighed, lowering her pistol from Wyatt's face, taking a step backward. "I tried to kill George once...but…" her face softened at whatever memory was playing in her mind, "but we fell in love instead."

"You...what?" Wyatt mumbled.

She nodded. "Hard to believe, I know," she mused out loud. "But there was something special about him...he knew things…"

"What things?" Jiya asked. "What did he tell you?"

Rachel shook her head. "I shouldn't be talking to you - "

"Did he tell you that you're hanged as a pirate?" Jiya asked. Rachel's expression told Jiya everything she needed to know. She continued, "You're apprehended by the authorities and you're put to trial, and hanged…" Jiya's face softened as her voice calmed, "you really didn't know?"

"How do you know this?" Rachel asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Wyatt shifted in his place for a moment. "Probably the same way George knows things…"

Rachel's head cocked at the pair. "You're visionaries?" she blew a short laugh from her lips, "Of course...now it makes sense why he's after the pair of you…"

"Visionaries?" Wyatt repeated, brows drawing together as he glanced between Jiya and Rachel, "I don't know what that means…"

Rachel gave him a disbelieving look. "You must not be," she stated before motioning over to Jiya, "but she clearly is."

"How do you figure?" Wyatt questioned, his voice rising.

"She just told me how I was going to die!" the woman snapped. "George told me the same thing once… but he also told me he was going to help me if I helped him. A life for a life, if you will."

"Whose life?" Wyatt demanded to know. "Who is this George after?"

Before Rachel had the chance to answer, the door to the hut slammed open, crashing into the wall. The noise startled the three inside and Rachel dropped her pistol onto the rocky ground by her feet.

Quinn rushed inside the hut, raising a pistol at Rachel. "I wouldn't move if I were ye." Rachel's eyes locked with Quinn before darting down to the gun at her feet. Quinn shook his head once. "Don't ye think about it or I will kill ye."

As Rachel started for her pistol, Quinn fired a single round, striking her in the chest, just below her collarbone. The hot blood splattered onto Wyatt's face as she collapsed between Wyatt and Jiya.

Wyatt blinked at the lifeless body of Rachel at his side. His eyes slowly lifted to meet Quinn's. "What the hell?"

"Ye're welcome," Quinn sighed. He lowered his gun, glancing over his shoulder and motioning for Tenley to join them inside. As Tenley brushed by him to begin untying Jiya's wrists, Quinn asked, "Did ye learn anything from her while ye were in here?"

Wyatt shook his head. "Not really," he said. "Something about this George being a visionary or some such nonsense."

"Visionary?" Quinn repeated, eyes narrowing at him.

Jiya's binds fell from her wrists and she rubbed them to ease the burning ache the coarse ropes left behind. "George must be Bloodstone or Rittenhouse," she explained. "She said he knew things about her...I think he was from our time...he has to be."

Tenley finished untying Wyatt's hands and the three stood up. Wyatt asked, "So, this was a trap then?"

Quinn shook his head. "I don't know…" his eyes were darting about in thought. He licked his lips and added, "I think the other mission was the trap...not this one."

Tenley's mouth fell open at the thought of Flynn being in danger. She exchanged worried glances with Wyatt and Jiya. There was no way of knowing what was happening on the other mission.

Wyatt turned back to Quinn. "What about this George fellow? The man she was with - "

Quinn nodded, cutting him off. "He's going to fetch George...I know." When he saw the questioning expression on Wyatt's face, he admitted, "We've been following ye since ye stormed the beach."

"I did not storm - " Wyatt started to retort.

Jiya turned to Quinn. "Should we get out of here before he shows up?"

Quinn nodded curtly. "We should…"

"I think we should wait for him," Wyatt suggested. "If this guy is Bloodstone or Rittenhouse or whoever… we can't risk him getting back - "

"Whatever we choose to do," Tenley interrupted, "I think we need to leave here quickly. We can decide what to do later."

After pausing to think over their options, and how his knee-jerk reaction earlier nearly killed two of them, Wyatt nodded in agreement, realizing he should take a step back. "Yeah, you're right. Let's go."