“You guys are close?”
She flashed him a look. “Friends, nothing more. Don’t go thinking we’ve stepped out on a buddy because it isn’t true. Lucas’s like an overprotective older brother to me. The idea of kissing him—ugh.” She shivered with apparent revulsion which was fine with him. Hopefully Lucas Randall felt the same way.
They sat in silence for the rest of the journey. He could have peppered her with questions but he could tell by the tightness of her lips and set of her shoulders that she was exhausted, and he knew exactly how late she stayed up every night. She fell asleep near Dale City and he felt content just to share her space. Something about Mallory Rooney soothed him. Maybe her ongoing dedication to her sister. Maybe her lack of guile in a world full of dangerous secrets. Or maybe it was his masochistic streak. When he pulled up outside her building he waited for a moment, just watching how the light molded her profile. Fool. Very gently he stroked her cheek.
“We’re here, Special Agent Rooney.”
She blinked herself awake, then grimaced. “Sorry. I hope I didn’t snore or drool.” She unclipped her belt and leaned toward him and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips. Mint laced her breath, and she smelled so sweet he wanted to eat her up. Every cell in his body begged him to take it deeper but he hung onto his good intentions by the thinnest of margins.
Pale fingers curled over his much larger, darker hand. “Thanks for the ride.”
The sight of her skin against his snapped something inside him. He took her face in his hands and kissed her hard, tasting the passion she kept hidden beneath the hardworking persona. He dragged her towards him, and she was kissing him back, inhaling him as her tongue curled around his in a fiery dance. He jerked her blouse out of her pants and her lace-clad breast was filling his palm as she pressed closer and closer. It wasn’t close enough. He found her nipple and rolled it until she almost climbed on top of him. The damn car wasn’t meant for necking—he needed a new car, with a bench seat. He was burning up with arousal, as if he’d been doused in gasoline and someone had struck a match.
A rap on the glass had them jerking apart. Shit, a traffic cop was giving them the stink-eye through the glass. Mallory seemed to realize what was going on before his brain reengaged. Of course she only had one head to deal with.
She rolled down the window.
“Sorry Officer, we weren’t thinking.”
He snorted, “No kidding. Move it.”
“I’m an FBI agent. I live here and I’m getting out now.”
“This town is full of feds, politicians and diplomats. You’ve got thirty seconds before I pull you both in for public indecency.”
“Thank you, Officer.”
The guy turned away to go back to his motorcycle.
Mallory’s lips murmured urgently against his, “I have to go. You don’t know how desperately I want to invite you inside.”
From the straining erection in his pants he had a damn good idea. “Go. Before this guy gets pissed.” He should be thanking the cop for stopping them because he sure as hell hadn’t been going to. She opened the car door, blouse half-in, half-out of her pants, short hair sticking wildly in all directions.
He grabbed her hand at the last moment. “If you ever need me”—her amber eyes widened—“you know where to find me.”
She swallowed and gave him a slight smile. “Don’t wait for me, Alex.”
He felt like he’d already waited a lifetime. It didn’t make any sense. She grabbed her stuff out of the trunk and waved to the traffic cop who just shook his head and cracked some smart ass remark that made her laugh.
Once she was safely inside her building, he drove home. And dreamed of two little girls being chased by bad guys. He was the bad guy.
***
Fury made his vision tunnel. How’d she escape him again? All that planning? An entire day wasted setting up an ambush? The risk involved in letting the air out of her tires? He debated taking her car and dumping it in the bush out of sheer spite but didn’t want to raise suspicion. Instead he turned around and told the guard he’d made a mistake with his pick up location and left. No harm, no foul.
She was like a cat with nine lives.
He had no fucking clue who the other guy had been when he’d broken into her home in Charlotte. Damn near gave him a stroke when the man had held that knife to his throat.
He trundled home through the darkness, not wanting to get pulled over or catch anyone’s attention. A lone figure at the side of the road stuck her thumb out, tempting him until a cold rage flashed over his flesh. He blasted the horn at her and she gave him the finger. Bitch. What the fuck did she think would happen out on the streets like this? Christ, some women were so fucking stupid.
Payton had been smart, right up until his uncle had smacked her head against the floor. He’d damaged her brain. He knew that. His uncle had been a sick, vicious bastard who shouldn’t have been allowed within a mile of a kid. A lump clogged in his throat. If he could go back and change the night they took her he would, but Payton was dead and wasn’t ever coming back.
Taking a deep breath he remembered what was waiting for him back home and felt lighter as a rush of anticipation hit him. It was possible the hitchhiker might just be the one. He was still going to get Mallory. She’d pissed him off now and the idea of keeping two women at once had curled inside him and taken root. He smiled as he turned on the radio and Aerosmith started singing. Life was good. Mallory Rooney had earned herself another weekend of freedom but it wouldn’t be long now. He had a good idea where he’d keep her. Not the bunker. There was an old mine shaft not far away that had a storage shed inside it. He’d reinforce the thing and keep her chained up there. Decide what to do with her after he’d looked her in the eye and told her who he was. See if there was anything of her sweet sister inside that sophisticated exterior. He was looking forward to making her beg for mercy; even the idea had him aroused. He pressed his foot on the accelerator eager to get home.
CHAPTER NINE
Monday morning she’d given herself an extra thirty minutes to make the forty-five minute drive, but an accident on 95 meant she had to run from the parking lot to the office to make sure she wasn’t late for her appointment with Supervisory Special Agent Frazer.
She’d spent the weekend immersed in internet searches on some old news stories and when she hadn’t been thinking about the viciousness humans could inflict on one another, she’d been thinking of the searing kiss she’d shared with Alex Parker. She didn’t know the last time she’d been so attracted to anyone, or so conflicted about a personal decision.
Her footsteps were brisk against the gray linoleum of the corridor. Heads looked up and then turned away. No smiley hellos, no casual waves. This situation at work was making her increasingly queasy. She passed Hanrahan’s open door and stopped. He raised his hand in acknowledgment and sent her a wry smile. She opened her mouth to say something but he shook his head. Fine. She almost plowed into Frazer as he came out of his office.
“Good. You’re not late.” He locked his door. “Let’s go.”
She barely had time to suck in a breath as she turned on her heel and started walking back the way she’d come.
Frazer was sharply dressed in a pale gray pin-striped suit, hair combed and shiny, chin shaved to granite-like perfection. Weird that he didn’t even give her a tingle of attraction, even though he was a classic blue-eyed Viking. Not that she went around being attracted to guys left, right and center. If it wasn’t for the spark she’d experienced with Alex, she’d have forgotten there was a sexual side to her nature. It made her wonder again if she wasn’t making a huge mistake blowing Alex off. How many times in life did you really connect with someone that way?
“You reviewed the case files?”
She snapped back from pondering her love life. She had work to do. “Yes, sir.”
He held the door for her and she met that cold assessing gaze. Could Frazer be in league with vigilantes?
H
e said nothing more until he was behind the wheel of a big black Lexus—his Bureau vehicle—which meant he was well connected in all the places that mattered. She strapped herself in. There was a time when this sort of luxury had been a constant in her life. After she’d switched career tracks from law to law enforcement her parents had cut off her allowance, aiming to prove a point. It had backfired because she hadn’t known how great it would feel to be financially independent. And sure, she had the cushion of enough money for down payments on furniture and a mortgage, but she hadn’t gone running back to them for help. She’d learned to economize and live within her means. She got a ridiculous amount of satisfaction from achieving that small measure of independence.
“What can you tell me about the cases?”
This was a test and she wanted to prove herself not to be completely incompetent. Mallory cleared her throat. “Over the last twelve months this killer has abducted young Caucasian females with long dark hair. He rapes them, beats and strangles them, and dumps the victims in remote locations where he knows the bodies will eventually be discovered, but not immediately. He gives himself time to get away from the scene.”
She mulled over her thoughts. “Except Lindsey Keeble was dumped in a place where it was unlikely she’d have been found until spring. We got lucky. She’s probably our best chance of catching this guy.”
“She might not be an exception—we have no idea how many women he’s killed and disposed of in really remote locations. Lindsey might be the only one we have found.”
“True.” Which was a sickening notion because who knew how many undiscovered bodies were out in the wilds. She forced the thoughts away and carried on because he seemed to expect it. “The cars of the victims who were driving have sometimes been found in remote areas, generally off-road, in the bush. Some of the women were believed abducted while hitchhiking. No one saw anything suspicious.”
“Which suggests what?”
Mallory frowned. “He has a vehicle. Spends a lot of time on the back roads. He could maybe be playing the role of Good Samaritan if they break down. Or disabling the cars so he knows they’ll break down at some point, being there to offer assistance when they did.” She thought about last night’s flat tires and grimaced. She’d rather have Henderson on her ass than some serial killer.
“Or he could be posing as someone who needs assistance himself,” Frazer added. He seemed to be taking her input as valid even though she was so under-qualified it was laughable. She had studied criminology and criminal psychology in college and the academy, and had read about endless cases looking for clues about Payton’s abduction. Still.
Frazer pulled over to buy coffee and she could sorely use a caffeine hit about now. She dug for change in her wallet as Frazer handed her a steaming cup of black coffee.
“I’ll get this one.” Frazer said.
“Thanks.” She took the coffee and savored the warmth against the chill in the air. Frazer didn’t believe in cranking the heat and it was another dull, dank November day. She shivered.
“Time of death?”
“It’s hard to judge TOD accurately. Most of the bodies were too decomposed. But the last victim, Lindsey Keeble, was killed within twelve hours of her body being found. She was abducted Friday night and her body was discovered on Sunday morning. So he kept her alive for about a day before he killed her.”
“So he has a vehicle or place where he can take his victims and do what he wants to them. Somewhere secluded enough he isn’t worried about being discovered.” She flashed back to Meacher’s farmhouse on the outskirts of Fleet. They were passing houses like it, dotted across the countryside as they headed north. The moisture in her mouth evaporated.
The idea of spending that amount of time at the hands of evil filled her stomach with oily disgust. What made them think they had the right to do that to another human being? How long had Payton suffered? She stuffed her knuckles in her mouth, holding the coffee carefully in the other hand. Don’t fall apart, Mal. Do your job.
“Cause and manner of death?”
She took a swallow of coffee to try and ease the soreness in her throat. “The beatings were severe enough to disfigure but didn’t kill the victims. COD was asphyxia resulting from manual strangulation. They haven’t found any fingerprints on the bodies, nor DNA. Decomp was generally too advanced. He—or she”—not likely but not yet one-hundred percent ruled out—“also wipes the victims down with a mild bleach solution before he dumps them. The ME took samples from Lindsey Keeble that might provide viable DNA samples.”
“Which is all well and good if he’s in the database or we have a suspect.”
But ineffectual in stopping the guy otherwise.
“Signature?”
“The whole cause and manner of death seem part of his signature. But the carving of PR on the victims’ chests seems peculiar to this particular offender.”
“You’ve been studying. To look into your sister’s abduction?” he asked.
She set her jaw. “It’s what made me join the FBI. So, yes, I have.”
“Is that why your mother pulled strings to get you into the BAU? In the hopes you might somehow mysteriously solve a case that we have been looking at for years?”
Mallory froze in the act of taking a sip of her coffee. He’d ambushed her. She decided to go with honesty. “Frankly, I have no idea how I ended up at the BAU.”
“You applied didn’t you?” It was said in such a derisive tone she didn’t bother to contradict him. It wasn’t as if she could tell him the truth.
“Obviously it’s a dream of mine to work with the agents in the BAU.” Surely, Hanrahan couldn’t suspect the agent he worked most closely with, but if that were true why the hell hadn’t he confided in the man? “You guys deal with the most interesting cases, and yes, I know they are often the most horrific.”
“Think you’ll be able to handle it?” His gaze was laser sharp.
She forced herself to hold that piercing gaze. “I don’t know, Supervisory Special Agent Frazer. I hope so, but right now, I’m just following orders.”
There was a reluctant softening of his expression and he turned back to the road. “I don’t think any of us really know, Agent Rooney. Not even after years of practice. Some cases hit us unexpectedly.”
They were quiet for a few minutes, the Lexus eating up the drive to Manassas.
“Your sister’s case,” he began.
She pushed back in her seat. “What about it?”
“Do you think that the initials this killer is carving on the women’s chests are in any way related to your sister’s disappearance?”
“No.” Was he looking for a reason to get her thrown off the team? If so, why? Because he thought she was incompetent, or because he knew that she’d started investigating vigilantes and then been transferred to his office?
There was a slight smile on that good looking face that she didn’t trust.
“What?” he asked.
She frowned. Obviously he was a man used to getting his own way. Still she’d grown up surrounded by powerful, manipulative people. She looked away. “Nothing. I’m just cold.”
He adjusted the heating which was something. But it reminded her of old-fashioned interrogator techniques. Offer them a kindness. Show them that you are the one in control.
“It was a sophisticated abduction. It took a lot of planning. Do you have any memories from that night?” he asked.
She bit her lip and felt her eyebrows bunch together. What about the dreams she’d been having lately? Were they memories? Or founded on fear and guilt? She shook her head. “I don’t remember.”
“Have you tried hypnosis?”
Her mother had tried to force her but her father had refused. “No.”
“Want me to set it up for you?”
She put her coffee cup in the holder and swung around to face him. “Why the sudden interest?”
A sardonic smile twisted his lips. “I helped out on that case.” He shrugged.
“It bothers me.”
“What?” She sat up straighter. She hadn’t seen his name on any of the reports.
“I was twenty-five. After college, I did a couple years with the State Police back in Wisconsin and joined the Bureau in ‘95.” The year Payton had gone missing. That made him in his early forties. She hadn’t realized he was so much older than she was. “I was a field agent in the Pittsburgh division. Your sister’s abduction was one of my first cases.” His lips tightened. “I actually remember seeing you as a little girl at the vigil.”
That felt like a slap. “You were at the vigil?” Why that shocked her so much she didn’t know. She felt exposed. Vulnerable. She’d been feeling that way for years now. Maybe that was the real reason she’d joined the Bureau. To take back control. Her plan wasn’t working out so well.
“I was told to blend in with the locals. See if there was anyone attending who looked off.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“No one who checked out.” He was looking at her again and Mallory resisted squirming. “It was pretty freaky to see a little girl who looked so much like the one we were searching for, just standing there like a ghost.”
People had whispered the same thing for years. Pity they hadn’t whispered it quieter. “The Bureau never found a viable suspect,” it came out of her mouth like an accusation.
“It was a sophisticated and well planned abduction with no sign of forced entry, but there was never any ransom demand.”
“The cops kept wavering between it being someone who knew the family, or a random act perpetrated by someone passing through the town. When no note arrived they assumed Payton had been stolen by a pedophile.” Arctic cold swept over her flesh.
He pressed his lips together and shook his head. “The thing I find hard to believe about it being a pedophile is they’d have grabbed both of you. Identical twin girls? Once the guy was finished with his fantasy, he could have sold you off for hundreds of thousands of dollars—”
01 A Cold Dark Place Page 11
