Cold & Deadly

by Toni Anderson

* * *

  Mallory put a hand to support the bottom of her baby bump as she made her ungainly and inelegant way down the west bank of the Rappahannock River. It didn’t help that she couldn’t see where to place her feet.

  Sweat trickled down her back and soaked into the waistband of her maternity, black dress pants. She looked like the side of a mountain.

  The ground was dried, cracked mud, and the river was low thanks to a long, hot summer and the distinct lack of rain. Birds sang in the trees and squirrels chattered angrily at the police invasion.

  An hour ago, she’d got a call from a local police chief about the missing Mule & Pitcher waitress she’d been trying to track down. Because of the nature of the investigation—both the drug angle and the murders—Mallory had put out a BOLO when it turned out no one had seen the woman since the FBI had busted the guys at the bar for drug smuggling. Mallory had figured she was involved in the drug operation, but it was also possible the DEA had whisked her away into protective custody as a witness for their case.

  “You okay there?” A police officer in a dark blue uniform held his hand out to assist as she clambered over a decaying tree trunk.

  She gripped his hand and awkwardly followed him to the water’s edge.

  “A couple of anglers found her. They were hoping for smallmouth bass, got a whole lot more than they bargained for.” The glint of dark humor in the officer’s eyes made her release a small laugh. This she was used to. This was her world.

  The baby kicked under her ribs, trampling her lungs as he-or-she squirmed, reminding her that her world was about to change. For a long time, the baby hadn’t seemed real, but now it was a fully formed human being, and she was already fiercely overprotective of the little bean.

  The idea of being a mother was also terrifying. She knew better than most the dangers that existed in this vast and beautiful country. She knew her faults. She hoped she did a good job and didn’t screw the kid up too badly.

  She followed the officer along a narrow pathway probably made by deer or anglers. It was the sort of place she liked to bring her rescued Golden Retriever, Rex, for a long, tranquil walk—minus the dead body, of course.

  Up ahead she saw a small group of people gathered around something milky pale. She signed a logbook and leaned against a tree as an officer helped her slip paper booties over her shoes.

  The fact she couldn’t bend in the middle was proving to be more of a hardship than she’d anticipated.

  “Less than three weeks,” she muttered. She wasn’t ready for motherhood, but had realized over the last few months that she’d never be fully prepared, and that was okay. She had Alex and between the two of them they would figure it out. She was concentrating on preparing for the birth, which at least she could plan and have some control over.

  Mallory walked on, feeling all eyes on her. She recognized the ME from other cases and nodded to him.

  “You were looking for this woman?” the man asked.

  Mallory drew closer and stared down at the naked and battered form of a young, adult female. Mallory had been shown a driver’s license photograph of the waitress, but the face was so puffy it was hard to tell if this was the same person.

  “You ran prints?”

  The cop next to the ME nodded. “Came back as Caroline Perry. Grad student at Mary Washington.” The waitress at the Mule & Pitcher.

  Mallory nodded. “Any idea as to the cause of death?”

  The ME raised experienced eyes up to meet hers. “It’s a little early for a determination.”

  “Did she die before or after she was in the water?” Mallory asked. Getting a scientist to make a definitive statement required pliers and fingernails.

  “Again, it’s hard to say.”

  Mallory eyed the cuts and lacerations all over the body. “Looks like she was beaten…”

  The ME frowned. “Again—”

  “It’s hard to say.” Mallory finished for him.

  “It’s pretty rocky upstream of here and with the low water it’s a rough ride along the river. There’s no bruising so there’s a chance the skin damage is postmortem rather than antemortem.”

  Mallory pinched her lips. “Any idea how long she was in there?”

  “Not long,” the ME surprised her by saying. “Given the relatively warm water, decomposition and animal predation would have been much more advanced and extreme if she’d been in the river for a full day even. I suspect she’s only been in the river since sometime last night.”

  No one had seen the woman since she’d driven away from work on Tuesday night, but it was apparent she hadn’t gone home, and her car hadn’t been found. Where’d she been? When had she died?

  “Any evidence of sexual assault?” The woman was naked. Had she been assaulted or gone skinny dipping and drowned?

  The ME pulled a non-committal face.

  “Anything else you can tell me?”

  He frowned as he examined the body. “No obvious evidence of manual strangulation, gunshots, or deep stab wounds. No loss of limbs or decapitation.”

  “That’s why they pay you the big bucks,” one of the cops joked.

  Mallory felt the baby give a big push against her diaphragm with both feet. She rested her hand just beneath her rib and sucked in a breath. He-or-she better not twist around again. She didn’t want to deal with a breech birth. That was not in her plan.

  “How come the BAU are involved?” the ME asked.

  The interest in the gazes of the other men sharpened.

  “We have a serial killer around here?” the ME asked.

  As tempting as it was to tell him it was too early to tell, she didn’t want to bait the man.

  “I don’t believe we have a sexual sadist on the loose, but we’re looking into some other incidents in other states that might be linked.”

  “How is she involved?” A cop nodded at the body on the banks of the river.

  Empathy for the dead woman washed over Mallory. She’d said goodbye to her sister when she’d finally buried her, but every corpse, every victim made the old feelings well up like blood in a fresh wound.

  She met the ME’s gaze. “We’re not sure how she connects except she worked at the Mule & Pitcher. We wanted to question her about the events of Tuesday night.”

  From the looks on the men’s faces they were all putting that together with the widely reported drug bust and the drugging of a Federal Agent that had led to a nasty car wreck. If Sheridan and Kanas were right about someone targeting FBI agents this whole thing would explode into a media sensation. Mal hoped they’d solve the puzzle before it became public knowledge. She didn’t want the killer feeding off that kind of buzz. They might never stop.

  She handed over her card to the ME and to each of the local cops. “Please call me if you find out anything else.”

  She turned and trudged back the way she’d come, reversing the process of logging out of the scene and removing her paper booties. The officer who’d escorted her helped her climb up the steeper sections of the bank. If she got stuck, she’d need a mechanical winch to get her out.

  She left him at the top of the bank, thanked him and got into her Bucar which was currently a RAV4. Called Frazer. “Waitress is dead. I’m meeting the police sketch artist at Karl Feldman’s in forty minutes.”

  “Either she killed herself because she drugged Dominic and knew she was going to go to prison, or someone killed her so she couldn’t reveal anything,” said Frazer.

  “Dead women tell no tales,” Mallory agreed.

  “And revenge is a dish best served cold.” Frazer was grimly amused. “We need to figure this out before the UNSUB kills again.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ava boarded a C-17 military transport with a bunch of pumped up macho-types from HRT and enough equipment to start a war or, hopefully, end a siege. She hated flying but had decided not to mention the fact to Sheridan in case he decided to leave her behind.

  According to the short briefing they’d been given,
two rival gangs had started a fight in a cafeteria in a medium security Federal Correctional Institute. Another group of three inmates had taken advantage of the guards’ distraction to barricade themselves inside the prison kitchen with four hostages, one of whom happened to be the warden.

  A pulse of excitement ran through the assembled agents shimmering like a heat haze. She could only imagine the sort of training these men undertook and how good it must feel to put that training into action.

  Her equipment was her creds, her Glock-22, her backup, a large go-bag and a laptop. She followed Dominic and strapped into an uncomfortable-looking seat beside him. He hadn’t said much to her on the drive up.

  Everyone was tense, except the female negotiator who Ava had handed Dominic’s dog off to yesterday morning. That seemed like a million years ago. Ranger was now staying with a neighbor of Dominic’s who kept horses. The third negotiator accompanying them, Eban Winters, was quiet and laid back. In general, the negotiators seemed a lot more chilled than their tactical counterparts, except for the head of the unit. Quentin Savage was pretty intense, like an angry John Wick looking for revenge over his dead puppy.

  A massive guy with shoulders so broad they took up more than the space provided sat next to her. He looked past her and gave Dominic a nod, his gaze traveling over her speculatively on their way back to front and center.

  “I recognize you from somewhere.” The guy spoke out of the side of his mouth.

  Ava shrugged. “I have one of those faces.”

  The guy shook his head slowly. “That’s not it.”

  Ava was aware of Dominic stiffening on her other side.

  “You a negotiator?” he asked.

  She felt like she was in a spaghetti western. CNU had decided to call her a trainee negotiator to mask the threat to Dominic’s life and keep a lid on news of this possible serial killer hunting Feds. They did not want to give anyone ideas. “That’s right.”

  The man grunted and turned his attention to Charlotte Blood who was doing a meet and greet with most of the HRT team.

  Ava turned to face Dominic and found him looking at her from just inches away. The pilot started the engines and even though Ava opened her mouth to say something, the noise from the engines meant it was impossible to be heard. She closed her mouth and couldn’t help notice the way Dominic’s gaze settled on her lips briefly before moving away. Maybe she wasn’t imagining the attraction that made her aware of every time he moved, every time he spoke. She remembered the feeling from high school along with the accompanying acute embarrassment when someone figured it out.

  No way was she letting Sheridan or his pals figure it out.

  Charlotte walked past on the way to her seat and gave her a reserved smile and squeezed Dominic’s arm which made the HRT guy on her right tense.

  Interesting. Did the HRT guy know the female negotiator or did he want to? She had a feeling it was the latter and couldn’t help a smirk.

  After an hour on the transport, the smirk was gone. A storm front had made the ride rocky, her butt was sore, and her head ached from the roar of the engine. She white-knuckled the webbing on the seat as they came in for landing and exhaled a happy sigh when they taxied to a military hangar where they could unpack the Hostage Rescue Team in relative secrecy.

  “Scared of flying?” Dominic asked her when they were finally able to talk again.

  “Scared of crashing,” she corrected.

  They exited the aircraft and left HRT to sort out their equipment. An agent from the Buffalo Field Office picked them up and took them straight to the prison, a low gray affair with more razor wire than no-man’s land.

  Half a mile from the main building, an outer perimeter had been established to prevent the press or public getting too close and to prevent any enterprising inmate from taking advantage of the situation to stage an escape.

  The negotiators arrived at the main door and hurried inside the building to be greeted by another agent from Buffalo.

  “Who is talking to the hostage-takers right now?” Dominic asked. He’d been furiously writing notes on the journey up.

  “We have a Bureau of Prisons trained negotiator on the line.”

  “Good. Are they talking? Making a list of demands?” asked Dominic.

  Ava had to walk fast to keep up with them all. Dominic seemed to have forgotten his injuries and had ditched his sling despite doctor’s orders. Charlotte Blood and Eban Winters followed close behind. Ava felt like a bit of a fraud pretending to be one of them, but she knew how to stay out of the way.

  “They have a long list of demands but…”

  “But what?”

  Ava recognized the blistering authority in Dominic’s voice.

  “Each of the hostage-takers has a different list of demands.”

  “Great. Who’s the leader?”

  “Two of them are vying for top spot. A former drug dealer out of Albany, Frank Jacobs, who swears he’s born again, and an old mobster hitman called Gino Gerbachi, AKA Gino-the-snake.”

  Ava stumbled, and Dominic caught her by the arm before she fell flat on her face. Gino Gerbachi couldn’t be here. He was in Otisville, Orange County…

  “You okay?” Dominic asked.

  “Yeah. Sorry. Thanks. Tripped.” Her heart pounded as if someone had plugged her into an electrical socket. She forced herself to step away from Dominic’s support.

  Did she tell him she had a connection to this guy or not?

  “The third guy is a convicted serial killer.”

  “Who?” Dominic asked.

  “Milo Andris.”

  Dominic scowled. Ava wondered what the man had done. “We have any visuals on them inside the kitchen?”

  “We have cameras and audio in there that they seem unaware of at this time.”

  “Any women in there?” Dominic asked.

  “The warden is female.”

  A shiver ran over Ava’s shoulders at Dominic’s closed expression.

  “What weapons do they have?” Dominic fired questions at the man.

  “Kitchen knives and other implements. I expect they all have at least one homemade shiv on their person.”

  Ava didn’t want to interrupt this exchange. Lives were at risk. If Ava told Dominic about her connection to “Gino-the-snake” he’d remove her from the prison, and if he removed her she couldn’t act as his bodyguard. And if she wasn’t his bodyguard then she was pretty sure she’d be back on suspension until Aldrich figured out a way to get rid of her.

  She rubbed the Mati bracelet on her wrist. It was supposed to protect from the evil eye. It might only be an old superstition but she wasn’t above a quick prayer.

  It wasn’t like she’d have to deal with the inmates. She’d stay in the background. Strictly anonymous. Gerbachi wouldn’t even recognize her if he saw her. Her name was different now, and Kanas was common enough in Greek communities as to make tracking her mother and siblings difficult. She could work on leads from the murders while Sheridan did his thing, sleep when he slept. These separate worlds did not need to collide.

  She set her teeth against one another. All the times Dominic had accused her of not being able to work as part of a team came back to her. But it wasn’t just her secret she was protecting. It was her mother and siblings and niece and nephew. This wasn’t the sort of secret you shared, it was the kind you buried.

  But she would tell him.

  Eventually.

  Just not in front of all these people.

  “Where’s the Incident Commander?” Dominic asked as they strode along past multiple locked doors and crowds of uniformed cops and correctional officers.

  The local agent opened a side door. “Right in here.”

  She followed behind Dominic. Eban and Charlotte were right behind her. The idea of anyone getting to Dominic in here seemed crazy but until they figured out who the baddy was, Ava wasn’t going to relax her guard. Maybe it was a fellow agent with a hidden agenda? She eyed the other two negotiators and Eban met he
r gaze quizzically.

  She looked away.

  The room they’d entered was attached to another room which they could see inside of courtesy of a glass wall. A group of four men sat at a table all wearing headsets but only one guy wearing a mike. The others were scribbling notes.

  There was a large notice board on the wall with lists of instructions.

  Dominic shook hands with a large man wearing a brown suit just inside the door who introduced himself as Special Agent in Charge of the Buffalo office, Derek Hamner. The Incident Commander.

  Dominic looked around after the introductions were made. “Is there a room farther away from the action we can use?”

  The Incident Commander appeared to bristle.

  “It’s generally a good idea to keep the negotiators isolated and separate so we aren’t distracted by everything else going on and don’t inadvertently communicate anything to the hostage-takers about what the tactical team is doing. I mean we need to know what is going on, but it’s better if we aren’t part of that energy—we don’t want to communicate it to the hostage-takers.”

  The IC relaxed. “There’s a couple of trailers in the parking lot just around the corner from the front door.”

  “We’ll need comms set up there, along with any video feeds.”

  The Incident Commander nodded. “It’ll be ready in an hour.”

  “And if we can have accommodation in the same area? That way we will always be close to the action if needed?”

  “There are two cabins there. One has a kitchenette, shower and bathroom facilities. We can throw in some mattresses, and you can rotate your people on shifts.”

  “Just make sure the mattresses are unused. No offense,” Charlotte piped up with a smile that made the IC smile back in return.

  Ava was surprised by the request and grateful. The woman seemed to charm everyone she met, but her attitude toward Ava had cooled considerably. Ava had no idea why.

  “I’ll arrange it.” The IC puffed out his chest. “HRT will be billeted in an old aircraft hangar nearer the airport.”

  The negotiators exchanged cell numbers with the Incident Commander.