by C. J. Cross
Dana hated the idea of letting Barnes off, but Shepard promised her he’d go down for his pirating charges, along with a few others that Vegas PD were waiting to pin on him for the mayhem he’d caused in the nightclub. She wanted to believe Shepard, but it wasn’t easy. Dana glanced over at the sleeping FBI Agent again, wondering just how much she could trust the man. So far, he’d been upfront with her about everything.
Okay, maybe not the rookie crime scene story, but the ends justified the means.
It’d be a whole lot easier to work with Shepard if she didn’t have to hide the truth from him. Based on the striking similarities of the cases, telling him about what happened to her parents might even help. But she was torn. They’d only known each other a few days. A crazy few days, but still … Dana had kept this secret for almost twenty years. Keeping something trapped inside that long made it intimate and hard to let go.
Her gaze moved from his cleanly shaven face to his blue dress shirt, her mind drifting back to the perfect specimen of sculpted muscles that lay beneath. Her cheeks warmed. She couldn’t deny that he was attractive. She’d have to be dead not to feel something sitting this close to the man, but that only made telling him the truth more difficult. Sharing her story with Jake would feel like giving him a part of her. And that was something she just didn’t do.
27
Blue and red lights strobed harshly in Dana’s vision, warning her she didn’t want to see what was inside the cheap motel. She followed Shepard toward the crime scene anyway.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to walking toward police lights. It seemed ingrained in human nature to heed the warning of police tape and keep away.
Dana had seen more police in the past forty-eight hours than she ever wanted to. And once again, she found herself ducking under more yellow crime scene tape, wondering why she hadn’t gone into law enforcement. Maybe a gun and badge would’ve been more useful than her collection of PhDs when it came to avenging her parents.
The smell of death hung heavy in the air as they approached the scene. Dana was prepared this time. Not only did she know what she’d most likely find in the hotel room, but she had an oversized sweatshirt to duck her head into if things got too overwhelming. She picked it up at the airport while waiting to board the plane. It was navy blue and proclaimed, ‘What happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas,’ in large yellow letters. Jake told her she looked absurd, but she didn’t care. The airport was freezing, and the flight had been even colder. And now, back in DC, she was grateful for the cozy layer of protection against the macabre chill in the air.
Cramer met them at the door to room 213. It was open wide, the click and flash of the crime scene photographers cutting through the stillness. It puzzled Dana that they were still at the crime scene. According to Jake, Cramer called him at four in the morning. Shouldn’t most of the forensics team be finished by now?
Jake seemed to be wondering the same thing. “Why’s forensics still here?”
Cramer waved him off. “Got in a pissing match with the DEA. Don’t get me started. The important thing is the scene is ours. Come on, I’ll walk you through it.”
Cramer waited while Jake and Dana donned blue paper booties and latex gloves. His steel gray eyes appraised her the entire time. The hairs on the back of Dana’s neck rose. She didn’t like the way the commanding agent’s gaze lingered on her. Shaking it off, she put on her game face and followed Jake into the hotel room.
The scene was just as she expected. Twin beds. Two victims. Woman on the left, man on the right, each with an empty poison vial in their hands folded neatly over their chests. Between both beds on the bland oatmeal carpet was a large blood-soaked pentagram. This one had four of the five points filled in.
As Dana stared at it, the world began to sway. She quickly backed out of the room while Cramer and Shepard continued examining the evidence. Out in the hallway, Dana gulped down cool air. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she waited for her breathing to return to normal. She would never get used to this. But maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it meant she wasn’t as hardened as she’d hoped to be.
A lifetime of studying rituals of death, and she still wasn’t prepared to face the real thing. Dana shook her head, steeping in self disappointment. Still, this time had gone better than the last. At least she’d made it out of the hotel room on her own two feet.
She’d seen all she needed to. There were two more victims. That told her everything she needed to know. The killer was still out there, and she’d failed—again.
28
“How’s Dr. Gray handling this?”
Jake shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling more like himself after a few nights in his own bed. He leaned against Cramer’s office wall while the man sat at his desk sipping coffee. Jake shrugged. “As well as can be expected.”
Cramer frowned. “I wouldn’t call what happened in Vegas ‘expected’.”
Jake did his best to hide the pride that bubbled up inside him. “Yeah. She surprised us all taking on Barnes like that.”
“You heard Vegas PD apprehended him?”
“I did.”
“Are we certain he wasn’t involved in any of this?” Cramer asked.
“As certain as we can be right now. But if that changes, we know where he’ll be. He’s being held without bond until his hearing.”
“Good. Let’s try to avoid surprises from now on. I need you to keep that woman in one piece. She’s on loan to us from the Smithsonian. I can only imagine the shitstorm we’d be in if something happened to her while in our care.”
“Don’t worry, Cap. I’m keeping an eye on Dana.”
“Dana?” Cramer’s frown deepened. “You two are on a first name basis?”
Jake shrugged. “Is that a problem?”
“No. As long as you’re not crossing any lines.”
“Whoa!” Jake held his hands up, insulted by the insinuation. “I know better than to fish off the company dock.”
Cramer chuckled. “Glad to hear it.”
“Damn, Cramer. I thought you knew me.”
“I do. But I know the lure of an attractive woman as well. I saw the way you were looking at her when she left the scene.”
“She got a little dizzy the last time. I just wanted to make sure it didn’t happen again. Especially considering the knock to the head she took in Vegas.”
“How is she recovering?”
“I’m sure the few days off did her good. I’m heading over to meet with her now. I want to fill her in on Barnes and hear about this new theory she has for me on the case.”
“She has a new lead?”
“Maybe. Something about Mercutio or something Shakespearean?”
Cramer’s eyebrows rose.
“I know. Half the time I’m not even sure what language she’s speaking, but I’ve never seen someone so determined to crack a case. Wish we had a few more agents like her.”
“Be careful,” Cramer warned, his tone icy. “There is no darkness but ignorance.”
Jake gave the old Army captain an odd look.
He grinned. “She’s not the only one who can quote Shakespeare.”
Jake shook his head as he left Cramer’s office. This case was full of strange surprises. First, he found himself with a vigilante librarian for a partner, and now his boss was reciting poetry. Jake liked to think outside the box, but this was a little much, even for him.
29
Dana’s phone buzzed in her pocket. When she saw it was Shepard, she nodded to Claire. “Put it on speakerphone so I don’t lose my place.”
Claire shuffled around the desk, one hand still holding the UV screened LED light over the manuscript Dana was deciphering. “Dr. Dana Gray’s office,” Claire sang into the phone.
Shepard’s voice boomed through the office. “Is she there?”
Claire’s eyes widened, as they always did at the first sign of trouble. Dana spoke up. “Yes, Shepard, I’m here. I’m glad you called. I was thinking�
��”
He interrupted her. “You’re at work?”
“Of course.”
“I’m at your house.”
“Why?”
He exhaled loudly. “I thought the purpose of taking a few days off was for you to get some rest?”
“No rest for the wicked,” she quipped.
“Dana, you have a head injury.”
“Had,” she corrected. “Besides, thinking is the best way to heal the mind.”
“It takes more than a few days to recover from a knock like that. I would know.”
Dana thought about the dog tags on the chain around Jake’s neck and his friend who hadn’t made it home. Even though Shepard had survived that last tour, she wondered what the price had been. Someday, she hoped he’d share the rest of the story with her.
She could admit she was curious about the other names he carried close to his heart. But for now, she’d have to wait to uncover the secrets he hid behind his desolate blue eyes. She had a murder investigation to solve.
And she was almost there. She could feel it.
“Never mind my head. I think I have another lead. How fast can you get here?”
After a lot of grumbling, Shepard agreed to come to the library. Claire disconnected the call and returned to her spot, but Dana didn’t miss the way her intern’s clear blue eyes sparked with questions.
“Is there something on your mind, Claire?”
“He calls you Dana now?”
“Yes. Is there a problem with that?”
She grinned. “What happened in Vegas?”
Dana sighed. “I told you what happened. Anson Barnes fled and—”
“Not with the case. With you and sexy Secret Agent Man.”
“Claire. That’s unprofessional.”
“Oh come on. You can’t tell me you don’t think he’s gorgeous.”
Dana’s thoughts conjured up images she was trying to suppress. Jake shirtless at her door, concern in his unwavering gaze. “We’re just partners, Claire.”
“Partners.” Claire smirked as she rattled off the definition from memory. “Either of a pair of people engaged together in the same activity.”
“That activity is catching a serial killer. Nothing more.”
Claire’s grin only grew. “If you say so.”
An hour later, Dana had Shepard engrossed in her newest theory. They sat huddled over their usual table on the library floor. This time, she had a different set of books spread out before them. Ones that she’d borrowed from the Smithsonian’s Elizabethan department.
“They have to mean something,” Dana argued, gesturing to the list she’d compiled.
Shepard disagreed. “I think you’re reaching.”
“The door numbers mean something. I’m sure of it.”
“A few minutes ago, you were sure they represented lines in Shakespeare’s sonnets, but we’ve been through these books so many times I’m going to end up reciting this nonsense in my sleep.”
“You really think I’m wrong?”
“I think sometimes a door number is just a door number.”
Dana’s resolve crumbled. She’d been so sure she was on to something, but maybe Shepard was right. If she thought about it, the only reason she’d gone down the Shakespearean path was because of the name the media had created, sensationalizing their suspect as the Romeo and Juliet killer. She’d even taken it as far as calling the unsub Mercutio in her mind.
Sensing her frustration, Jake gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Why don’t we take a break. Grab something to eat?”
Claire poked her head out of the stacks like a gopher coming out of a hole. “Did someone say food?”
Shepard stood up, stretching. “I was just telling Doc here we should take a break for lunch. You wanna join us?”
Claire’s pale cheeks filled with color, leaving Dana to save her from her embarrassment. “Claire’s not a fan of eating in public. Let’s just order some takeout.”
Shepard grumbled something under his breath but conceded. “Fine. We’ll call something in.” His concerned gaze settled on Dana again. “Wanna go for a ride with me to pick it up?”
She sat back, crossing her arms. “I don’t need a break, Shepard. I’m fine.”
He crossed his own arms, mimicking her as he met her glare. Claire’s giggle broke their staring contest.
“Something funny?” Shepard snapped.
Claire surprised Dana by piping up. “For a soldier you’re not very good at picking your battles.”
The comment caught Dana so off guard she laughed. Even Shepard had a hard time keeping a straight face. Shaking his head, he threw his hands up. “All right, I know when I’m beat. I’m going to Thaiphoon. Call in whatever you want.”
“What do you want?” Dana asked.
“I’ll have whatever the smart ass is having. I at least like her taste in food.”
After Shepard left, Claire sidled over and took up his seat, a wide grin lighting her normally serious face.
“What are you so happy about?”
Claire shrugged. “I didn’t expect to like him.”
“Who? Shepard?”
“Yeah. It’s kinda nice having him around.”
Dana’s lips tugged up in the corners as she realized she almost agreed with Claire. She knew better than to say so. It wasn’t a good idea to get attached. This arrangement was only temporary. She was about to remind her intern of that when Claire interrupted her by pointing to the sonnets and illustrations littering the table. “Did you find anything?”
Dana sighed. “I thought so, but Shepard shot holes in my Shakespeare theory.”
Claire’s eyes roamed the books with fierce curiosity. “What made you think it was related?”
Pushing her glasses up into her hair, Dana rubbed her eyes. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’m just grasping at straws.”
Maybe she did need a break. She was driving herself crazy trying to crack this code when there might not even be one. But she couldn’t help thinking the FBI had come to her for a reason. She wanted to prove she could find the answers. But so far it felt like all she was doing was letting them down. And letting her parents down.
Claire’s head cocked to an odd angle as her gaze froze on one of the crime scene photos that must’ve been dislodged from its folder while Dana was shuffling sonnets around. Dana reached across the table to tuck it back in, but Claire stopped her. “Are all the scenes like this?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave this out, Claire.” Though it wasn’t the first corpse the Egyptology student had seen, it was still disturbing.
“No, it’s not that. It’s just …”
“What?”
“The woman on the right-hand side of the man. That’s biblical, isn’t it?”
A chill rippled through Dana. “Claire!” She grabbed her assistant’s boney hands. “You are a genius.”
Claire snatched her hands away, surprise etching her features as she clutched her wrists like Dana’s touch had burned her.
“You okay?”
“Fine.”
Dana knew the girl had quirks, but she’d never realized she was so uncomfortable with being touched. She studied her intern, briefly wondered if the girl had haphephobia, but Claire recovered quickly from whatever had startled her.
“I know I’m a genius.” Her pale blue eyes blinked behind her thick glasses. “But why am I a genius in this scenario?”
“I don’t know how I missed it. But you’re right. If our killer was mimicking something Shakespearean, he would’ve had the woman on the left-hand side of the man, leaving his sword hand free to protect her. Almost all cultures practiced this custom, except in Christianity where Eve is depicted on Adam’s right because she was carved from his right rib.”
Adrenaline coursed through Dana’s veins as she recalled something. She stood, staving off the wave of dizziness and spotty vision that accompanied the rapid movement. She didn’t have time to baby her head injury. Forcing herself to
focus, she made her way to the stacks. Her heart raced when she found the book she was looking for. Her fingers wrapped around the blue linen cover, and she knew she’d found the answer without even cracking the spine.
Dashing back to the table, Dana searched through the clutter and papers for her cell phone as Claire watched curiously. Finding it, she dialed Shepard’s number, setting the phone down while it rang. Dana stroked the cover with shaking fingers before gaining the courage to open it. Though the book could be considered new compared to the other ancient tomes her floor of the library housed, Aleister Simon’s controversial title had earned a place on the Smithsonian’s occult floor.
When Shepard’s phone went to voicemail, Dana hung up and tried again—four more times before she gave up and opened the book. She skimmed over the index and flipped through the back. Not finding what she was looking for, she grabbed her phone again and opened a browser, typing in various combinations of the title. Finally, she found it. She was shaking so badly she almost dropped her phone when it rang. Dana’s pulse raced along with the melodic tone. “Shepard?”
“Did you really call me five times? If you were that hungry—”
“Jake! I figured it out! It wasn’t Shakespearean at all. We should’ve been reading the Pentanic Verses of Satanism.”
“Well yeah. I could’ve told you that, Doc. The pentagram kinda gave it away.”
“No, that’s the title. The Pentanic Verses of Satanism. It’s a book. It was banned in several countries in the late eighties and nineties after provoking Muslim criticism. But as with all radical rantings, there are always as many for as against. The author, Aleister Simon, was forced into hiding after numerous assassination attempts. His supporters considered him a religious leader and went on to protest the ban, and subsequent burning of his books. When they were unsuccessful in overturning the ruling, they took his work of fiction into their own hands and formed the Pentacle Church in his honor, worshiping the three pagan goddesses he wrote about. They were three sisters, loosely based on the three fates of Greek mythology.”
