A Profiler's Case for Seduction

by Carla Cassidy

  “Nothing new. She seems to be a fairly isolated person, other than her two assistants. Nobody seems to know her very well.”

  Dora cast her gaze toward the wall just over his head, a tiny frown dancing in the center of her forehead. “Her assistants probably know her better than anyone, but I know just before her kidnapping she was kind of seeing Andrew Peterson from the history department.”

  Mark sat up straighter. This was new information. “None of us has managed to find that out.”

  “I imagine that’s because Melinda and Andrew didn’t want anyone to know. Andrew is married and he and his wife have three small children.”

  “How do you know about this?” he asked. As always, the thought of a new lead to follow shot adrenaline through his body. He’d always assumed that if Melinda was responsible for the murders, then she’d had a male partner...the man who had appeared in the videos to beat her.

  It was a devious scheme and he knew few women who had the guts to allow themselves to be slapped across the face, who would abide somebody breaking their arm just to prove an alibi.

  “I accidently stumbled on them one night,” Dora said, bringing him back to the here and now. “I’d kept the bookstore open a little later than usual. They were standing beneath a tree and I was too far away to hear what they were saying, but they embraced and kissed long and hard before they parted ways.”

  “Did either of them see you?” he asked.

  She hesitated and then shook her head. “I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure.”

  “Andrew Peterson? And he’s in the history department?” Mark repeated.

  Dora nodded, her frown deepening. “It might have been nothing, but if it is something you pursue, I hope you’ll be discreet. I’d hate to see Andrew’s marriage destroyed, because I’m certain Melinda isn’t looking for any kind of a long-term relationship, at least that would be my impression of her,” she quickly added.

  “We’ll try to be as discreet as possible, but we are investigating a crime,” he reminded her.

  For the next few minutes, they talked about what each had done that day. When they finished their coffees, Mark knew it was time to leave. They both had early mornings the next day and it was after eleven. He grabbed his holster and fastened it back on, then pulled his lightweight jacket on, effectively hiding the weapon.

  As she walked with him back through the living room he wondered what her bedroom would look like. He had a feeling it would be a romantic room, with a flowered spread and fragrant candles, the scent of her in every corner.

  When they reached her front door he turned to tell her good-night, but instead reached for her, wanting to feel her in his arms one last time before heading back to the motel and his lonely bed.

  He thought she might protest, but she came willingly into his embrace, leaning her head into the crook of his neck and once again reminding him of how well they physically fit together.

  Desire flared inside him, hot and eager as he’d never felt before. It drove every thought out of his head, something that never happened. He was focused completely on Dora, on the warmth of her curves against him, on her soft breaths that heated the side of his neck.

  She stood close enough to him to know that he was aroused, and as she raised her head to look up at him, he took her mouth with his, plundering, exploring. She reciprocated, winding her arms around his neck and pressing more closely against him.

  The kiss seemed to last a lifetime and yet wasn’t long enough, would never be long enough. It was she who broke it and stepped back from him, her eyes sparkling overly bright and her breathing coming too quickly.

  “I want you, Dora. I haven’t said those words to a woman for a very long time.”

  She closed her eyes, as if finding his words almost painful to hear. “I want you, too.” The words were a mere whisper. She looked at him once again. “But I can’t do this, Mark. I don’t want us to become lovers. It will just complicate things between us and make them messy.” She took a step backward, as if needing to physically distance herself from him.

  “I don’t want to lose you as a friend,” she continued, her gaze not meeting his. “I know, I’m being selfish. I want to talk to you. I want to spend time with you, but I’m afraid of making love with you. Somehow, someway, that kind of a relationship has always screwed me up and I can’t screw up now...I just can’t.”

  “And I don’t want you to,” Mark replied, despite the disappointment that slowly drained out of him, taking with it his desire to possess her intimately.

  She glanced up at him, her eyes holding such misery he felt it in his soul. “I want you, but it won’t be long and you’ll be back to your real life in Dallas, and I have my school to finish and a life to begin. Is it too much to ask for your friendship and nothing more?” She bit her bottom lip as she waited for his response.

  “Dora, I don’t want to take from you any more than you’re comfortable giving.” He wanted to reach out for her again; instead, he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “I like spending time with you, I love seeing your beautiful smile. We can be friends until it’s time for me to leave. We can remain friends after I leave here, if that’s what you want.”

  Her features brightened and she released a sigh of relief. “I just want you to understand that my decision not to have a physical relationship with you has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me.”

  This time he did step toward her and stroked a hand down the side of her face in reassurance. “I get it, Dora, and I’m okay with it.”

  Minutes later as he stepped out of her house he drew in a deep breath of the night air, hoping to chase away the scent of her that lingered in his head.

  He liked her intelligence, her laughter and her ability to keep him outside his own head. But he’d like to have it all—not just those things, but her passion and her desire, as well.

  Still, if he couldn’t have it all, he’d take what she was willing to give because he couldn’t imagine his time here in Vengeance without her as a part of it.

  What he wondered more than anything was, what had happened in her past that made her so wary of allowing herself any physical pleasure? What had her ex-husbands done to her that had made her so afraid of love?

  Chapter 7

  It was just after ten the next morning when Mark and Richard headed out to the north side of town where Troy Young lived. At the briefing that morning Mark had told the other agents about Andrew Peterson and the possible affair with Melinda, but everyone seemed to believe that Troy was their man. By the time the briefing was finished he feared that the information about Andrew Peterson and Melinda had been lost in the shuffle.

  “I feel like nobody was listening to me today,” Mark said as he rolled down the passenger window of the car to allow in some of the cool, fresh air. “You’re the only one who has taken my theory about Melinda halfway seriously.”

  “You know why nobody was paying attention to your information today,” Richard said. “We now have two strikes against Troy Young. If we can figure out if he ties into David Reed, then we’ve got somebody who is three for three in the motive department, and that makes Troy our most viable suspect.”

  Mark heaved a deep sigh and focused out the side window. The day before, Joseph Garcia had discovered that Troy Young had written and emailed Senator Merris, the communications filled with vicious words and threats.

  Apparently Troy Young’s father had worked for billionaire, and Melinda’s ex-husband, Gabe Dawson’s oil company and had been one of the many men laid off when Senator Merris had embezzled from the company and run it into the ground. Troy’s father had committed suicide after his layoff and Troy had blamed the senator for his father’s death.

  Just three days before the murders, Troy had fired off yet another email, damning the senator and promising that one day
he’d pay the piper for his crimes.

  Those communications to the senator, coupled with Troy’s hatred of Sheriff Burris, had the whole team buzzing with the scent of a solve in their noses.

  All they needed to do was tie Troy to David Reed and then they could probably build a case that would lead to an arrest. Had Mark been that wrong in his theory about Melinda? Certainly, he’d been wrong before in his career, but this one felt different. His instincts were still screaming even though a potential viable suspect had emerged.

  “Are you going to pursue the Andrew Peterson angle anyway?” Richard asked.

  Mark shrugged. “I think it’s something that needs to be done. I think it’s something I have to do. Even if we make Troy Young as the murderer, that doesn’t answer the questions about Melinda’s kidnapping. I’m just not ready to let Melinda Grayson off the hook yet. I need to know where this piece fits into the puzzle. If nothing else, he needs to be checked out concerning the kidnapping. Maybe he had something to do with it because she threatened to tell his wife about their affair.”

  “That’s the first actual potential motive that’s come to the surface concerning the kidnapping. It would definitely be nice to come up with a solve of both of the crimes at the same time. You need help you let me know,” Richard said.

  Mark shot him a quick grin. “You going rogue with me?”

  Richard laughed and then sobered. “Even if we get the killer behind bars, we still don’t have any answers as to Melinda’s kidnapping. Your theory of a spurned or scared lover at least makes sense.”

  “But, once the killer is arrested, we’ll be pulled out of here and back to Dallas. The kidnapping investigation might or might not continue with the local law enforcement, depending on the new sheriff,” Mark replied. “And I hate to leave unfinished business behind, even if it is deemed not our business anymore.”

  “I’m like you, I’d like to have all the answers when we leave here.” For the next couple of miles they rode in silence. And in the silence, Mark’s thoughts turned to Dora and the night before.

  Mark had loved Sarah when they’d married, but it had been a quiet love that was comfortable and easy...until it wasn’t. She began to resent his long hours, his time away from home, and slowly their love had changed into nothing more than a friendship.

  Mark’s desire for Dora screamed inside him. There was nothing comfortable or easy about it and that excited him. But she wanted to keep things on a friendship level and he would do that because he had to, because he’d rather have part of Dora than none of her at all.

  He sat up straighter in his seat as Richard pulled down the dirt road that led to Troy Young’s place. Troy’s house was a small ranch bleached into multiple shades of gray and beige by the sun and wind. It screamed for a coat of fresh paint and some basic maintenance. However, the cattle herd in the pasture next to the house looked well fed and healthy, and the nearby barn appeared to be well maintained.

  Richard hadn’t even turned off the car before the medium height, dark-haired rancher stepped out on his front porch. The man was clad in jeans and a white undershirt. His face was pale and his eyes narrowed as if the overhead sunshine tortured the last vestiges of a hangover.

  He didn’t move from his planted position in front of his door as Richard and Mark climbed out of the car. There was no question as to Richard’s and Mark’s identities. The day was cool and each of them wore their dark windbreakers with the bright yellow FBI letters on the front and back.

  “Gentlemen,” Troy greeted them. He didn’t smile, but he also showed no sign of nervousness or anger at their appearance. “What can I do for the FBI this morning?”

  Richard made the appropriate introductions. “We’d like to come in and ask you some questions.”

  Troy hesitated and seemed to weigh the pros and cons of allowing two FBI agents into his home. He finally gave a curt nod and opened the door, going inside ahead of them.

  When he disappeared into the dark interior, Richard and Mark exchanged glances. The door remained open in invitation, but invitation to what? Both men drew their weapons and advanced toward the door.

  Mark went in first to see Troy slumped against a corner of a sofa. As he saw Mark’s gun he raised his hands above his head in alarm. “Look, I know the place is a mess, but I didn’t know you shot men for that.”

  Mark relaxed a bit and holstered his gun as Richard did the same. Troy motioned them to two chairs across from him, one of them holding a take-out pizza container and the other a pile of newspapers. The house smelled of rotten garbage, dirty clothes and stale booze.

  “Just toss that crap on the floor,” Troy said, and raised a hand to the side of his forehead where he rubbed as if to ease a headache. “My loving wife left me two months ago and I haven’t felt like cleaning up since then.”

  Unlike the night Mark had seen him in the bar, pumped up by alcohol, shoulders rigid with indignation as he spewed vitriol, the man in front of them now appeared smaller, beaten down by life and circumstances beyond his control.

  Mark moved the pizza box to the floor and sat in the chair opposite Troy. “We’re here to talk to you about your correspondence with Senator Merris.”

  “You mean all the hate mail that I sent to the bastard.” Troy nodded. “I wondered when somebody would be around to ask me about it. I’m surprised you haven’t been here to talk to me before now.”

  Richard sat in the chair next to Mark and pulled out a small pocket recorder. “Do you mind?” he asked as he turned it on to tape the conversation. Troy shrugged, didn’t seem to care one way or the other. “You must have a lot of anger directed at the senator.”

  Troy snorted. “We both know that’s an understatement. I won’t lie, I hated the man, his policies and his corruption. He robbed good people of their jobs. He destroyed my father with his greed.”

  “Several of your notes and emails indicated something to the effect that he would ‘get his.’ What exactly did you mean by that?” Richard asked.

  Troy leaned forward. “I sure as hell didn’t mean that I intended to strangle him to death. I was talking about karma, you know, that somehow karma would make him pay for his crimes, that eventually something bad would happen to him. Guess I was right, karma got him.” He slumped back against the sofa back.

  “We’re not looking for a killer named karma,” Mark replied drily. “It was a real person who strangled the senator and the others.”

  “And speaking of the others, we also understand that you had quite a few run-ins with Sheriff Burris.”

  Once again Troy’s features darkened. “That man was a bully who liked pushing people around and he seemed to take special pleasure pushing me. I’m the only person in town who got a ticket for spitting on the sidewalk. Now, do you really think I’m the only cowboy in this one-horse town who ever spit on the sidewalk?” His outrage was showing. His face flushed with color and he was no longer slumping into the sofa but rather sat up straight, shoulders tensed.

  He gazed first at Richard and then at Mark. “You two think I had something to do with those murders? Anyone in town will tell you I hated both of them. They’ll also tell you I’m a drunk, a loudmouthed blowhard, but I’m not a killer.”

  “Did you know David Reed?” Mark asked. Instantly Troy’s shoulder grew more rigid and the flush on his face deepened.

  Troy swiped a hand down his jaw, suddenly looking far older than his years. “I’m not going to lie to you. You’re probably going to hear about it around town anyway. It was all the gossip when it happened. Yeah, I knew him. He’s the reason my wife left me.”

  A person of interest with personal ties to all three victims. It wasn’t looking good for blowhard Troy Young, Mark thought. “What do you mean he’s why your wife left you?” Mark asked.

  Troy released a deep sigh and once again slumped back against the sofa cushi
ons, a beaten man. “Mr. Slick sports writer seduced her. They had a brief affair and Kathy was stupid enough to think she actually meant something to him. Two months ago she told me I couldn’t give her the things she wanted in life and she moved into an apartment in town.” He frowned, as if suddenly aware of his precarious position in the investigation. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

  “Where were you in the twenty-four-hour period that the murders took place?” Mark asked.

  “It’s been almost a month ago. Hell, I’d have to think about it, and I think I’m done talking to you now.” He got up from the sofa and walked to the front door, opening it and looking at them both expectantly.

  Richard turned off the tape recorder and tucked it back in his pocket and then together he and Mark left the house and headed back to their car.

  “What do you think?” Richard asked once they were on the road back to the courthouse in the middle of town. “Gut instinct?”

  Mark cast him a wry smile. “I must be hungry because my gut instinct isn’t talking to me right now. He has motive to kill all of them. It’s probably going to be difficult for him to provide an alibi for the entire time in question, but somehow I don’t think he’s bright enough to pull something like this off.”

  “The team is going to love him.”

  Mark stared out the passenger window, his thoughts going in all directions. The memory of his nightmare about Melinda suddenly chilled him.

  Was it time for him to let go of his idea that she somehow had a finger in the deaths? Had they found their guilty party and all they needed to do was get him under arrest...case closed?

  * * *

  At exactly eight o’clock Dora closed the bookstore and stepped outside to see Mark standing nearby. Relief mingled with pleasure at the sight of him. After the unexpected awkwardness of the night before she hadn’t been sure he’d really show up.

  “Coffee?” he asked with a smile that warmed her from head to toe.

  “Sounds perfect,” she replied, and fell into step next to him as they headed toward the nearby coffee shop.