by Blake Pierce
Well, as good a friend as someone could be when you only saw each other on the job. She’d never been to his home, and he’d never visited her apartment. They didn’t meet elsewhere for coffee. They didn’t gossip about their family lives, at least beyond the greater sketch of the need-to-know. They didn’t share feelings.
But, after three years of working together, he was still the closest friend she had. And what did that say about her life?
Either way, he was a good person. One of the best. The thought of him no longer being in the world made her feel sick.
“That was the chief,” Nate said, pointing a finger up to heaven. To the floors above them, where senior agents had their offices. “Wants to see us in the sky.”
Laura nodded, tossing her empty coffee cup into the trash as she stood. “He say what it’s about?”
“Time off for our efforts?” Nate said, and grinned as he shook his head. “No idea. But I’d bet he has a job for us.”
“Great,” Laura said, following him through the bullpen and out into the hall beyond again, trying not to sound as irritated as she felt. She couldn’t deal with something else right now, not on top of all the rest. And it wasn’t as though she could tell them why she needed time out. She’d hoped for a lull, for paperwork and maybe some mandated counseling that she could space out for.
The muscles of Nate’s back moved visibly under his shirt as he led the way. Normally, Laura found it reassuring to walk in his shadow. He was a powerhouse; people stepped out of his way. They didn’t mess with him unless they had a death wish. In his wake, Laura was also protected. She didn’t have to shout to be heard or ask people to step aside. They just listened.
But now she looked at his back and felt nothing but a sickening apprehension. What she felt was only a harbinger of a potential future, she knew. It wasn’t the whole story. There might be things she could do to stave it off for him. But until she had the vision that explained everything, she wouldn’t know.
And even then, it might still happen anyway.
They took the elevator up to the chief’s floor, and in the brief interlude of whirring machinery and tinned music, Laura flinched back against the wall. She didn’t want Nate to accidentally touch her. Not now she knew how it would feel.
She knew if she didn’t get over it, he would notice. He was an FBI agent. He wasn’t known for being oblivious to the details. Even with their casual relationship, he would notice if she couldn’t bear to have him hand her anything or step too close.
The doors slid open to welcome relief. Nate gestured forward and allowed her to step out of the elevator first, and Laura found herself walking fast along the hall to keep out of his range of touch.
“You in a hurry?” he asked, sounding amused from behind her.
“I just want to get the bad news out of the way,” Laura shot over her shoulder. “We’ve had less than a day. If he’s sending us somewhere, I’m guessing it must be bad.”
“It’s always bad,” Nate said. “That’s why they call in the FBI.”
“Right,” Laura sighed.
“Talking of,” Nate said, his tone carefully conversational, “how, uh… how did you know about the girl? I mean, everyone’s been asking, and I don’t really have an answer for them.”
“Just tell them it was luck,” Laura said. “Luck, and thoroughness. No one else stopped to go back and check the house again, did they? Consistency and hard work. That’s what solves cases.”
“That much is true,” Nate agreed, easily enough. Laura felt another jolt of gratitude for the way he always took her at face value; another jolt of grief that he wasn’t going to be around forever.
Nate’s long stride caught up with her right before the chief’s door, but Laura paused for a moment before going in. She straightened her jacket and her shirt collar before reaching out to knock, making sure to give three forceful raps. No more, no less.
At the sound of a call from behind the door, Laura opened it and stepped through, leaving Nate to follow in her wake. She was being too obvious, she thought. She needed to tone it down. Try to relax. Try to act like she hadn’t just found out he was going to die.
“Sir,” Laura said, at almost the exact same time that Nate said it too.
“Agents.” Division Chief Chuck Rondelle looked up at them from behind his desk, which always looked a little too big for him. The chief was in his late fifties, small and wiry, and for every dark hair he had left on his head he had another two gray. “I heard good things about your assistance with the kidnapping yesterday.”
“We did our jobs, sir,” Nate said, his voice loud in the small space. Rondelle was known for valuing a humble nature in his agents. As a result, even the most braggartly wouldn’t go up before him and swell out their chests. Not if they wanted a promotion at any point in their career.
“Yes. Well, nice work.” Rondelle picked up a folder in front of him and gestured toward them with it. “We’ve got a new case. I need you two on it right away.”
“Where are we headed, sir?” Laura asked, feeling her heart plummet into her stomach. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t been expecting it. Still, it was disheartening to hear. She’d hoped for a couple of nights to rest, at least. Some time to decompress, and, more importantly, to do something about Amy.
“Upstate New York—Albany,” Rondelle said. “We’ve got two victims in as many nights. Looks like the same guy.”
“What’s the methodology?” Laura asked, stepping forward to take the folder. Rondelle gave her a hard look as she did so. He was sharply inquisitive, and she diverted her gaze down at the paper so he wouldn’t have the chance to read too deeply within her eyes. He might ask questions about her mental well-being, and she didn’t want that.
Rondelle shook his head as she stepped back. “I’m putting you on a plane within a few hours,” he said. “All the information you need is in the brief. You’ve got about enough time to get your things together and get to the airport, so you’d best get moving.”
Nate made a face beside her. “But Chief, we’ve only just got back from the kidnapping case. We need time to rest, debrief—”
“No,” Rondelle said, holding up a strict finger. “We need you two on this one. You were the only ones who could make headway on that Texas co-ed spree, and this has a similar feel to it already. I’m not wasting time like we did then, letting more people die because we don’t have our best on the job. It’s you two, and it’s now. Go on, get.”
“Yes, sir,” Nate said, hanging his head but smiling, in that way he had that always got him out of trouble. Even Rondelle seemed to let the comment go.
“Don’t miss your plane, Agents,” he said instead, as they turned to file out the door. “I mean it. Lives are literally hanging in the balance.”
Laura waited until the door was closed firmly behind them and they were halfway to the elevator before she said anything. There were two satellites orbiting her head, and neither of them would stop. She had to do something.
Amy, or Nate. She could stay here for Amy. Or she could go, and try to save Nate.
She could only take one of those right now.
Her heart broke for the little girl. She couldn’t bear to make the decision. And yet…
“You should stay,” Laura said, trying to keep her tone casual. “Get some time off. I can take Jones, maybe. I’ll talk to Rondelle.”
“What?” Nate looked at her sideways as he pressed the elevator call button. The doors swished open immediately. “You don’t want me with you for some reason?”
“Of course I want my partner with me,” Laura said, and sighed as they stepped inside. “But we have so much paperwork to do. If this is like Texas, then I know what I’m doing. I can get it finished nice and quick. And Jones was there, too. Rondelle won’t mind. You do the paperwork and get some time at home. You’ve got someone waiting for you.”
Nate barked a short laugh. “No, I don’t,” he said. “She moved out. Six months ago.”
&
nbsp; Laura felt the pain of that cutting through her chest like a knife. Nate reached out and patted her shoulder, making her flinch; the wave of coldness came over her again, but no vision. She relaxed only when he let go.
“It’s all right,” he said, evidently reacting to the stricken look on her face. “I don’t have any need to stay. Actually, I’m looking forward to getting stuck right in again. But I can take Jones, if you want to stay.”
“No,” Laura said immediately, so fast he looked at her with a squint to his eyes. “No, it’s… fine. I don’t have much to stay for either. Not without visitation rights with Lacey.”
Sickness squirmed in her stomach as the elevator dropped. She couldn’t let him go alone. Whatever shadow was hanging over him, if it happened because she stayed behind, she would never forgive herself.
She needed to stay at his side—and figure out what was going to kill him before it had a chance to take hold.
CHAPTER NINE
Laura flipped her tray down as soon as the plane had finished ascending, grabbing the case briefing out of her carry-on bag. “Ready to hear about the case?” she asked.
“What have we got?” Nate asked, settling back in his chair. His broad shoulders filled the seat easily, which made it uncomfortably difficult for Laura to avoid an accidental brush against him. Several times during the check-in and boarding they’d gotten close enough to trigger that shadow of death again, sending a shiver of ice down her back every time. They had only just left the ground, and her nerves were already frazzled.
At least the shadow didn’t bring headaches with it. That was one small blessing.
It had been a frantic couple of hours to get home, grab her overnight bag, get to the airport, meet Nate, and get through check-in. All that time, she had been itching to get at the notes and find out what they were up against.
“So, the first victim was killed two nights ago,” Laura said, lifting the first sheet of paper to read it out loud. Nate preferred it when she read to him, rather than the two of them having to trade pages to get through it all separately. “Laura Carlisle. She lived in an apartment in Albany, with one female roommate. The roommate came back from working a late shift to find Laura dead in her bedroom. She had been strangled with a scarf.”
“Laura.” Nate grunted. “That’s going to get confusing.”
“Not unless you intend to refer to the ligature marks around my neck,” Laura said, concentrating on the pages. “Next up we have Caroline Birchtree, murdered last night in her apartment. She lived alone, and there was a fairly obvious point of entry—a smashed bedroom window.”
“What floor?” Nate asked.
Laura checked the notes. “Second floor,” she said. “But by a fire escape.”
“All right. Strangled?”
“Yes, this time with a phone cord. So it looks as though whoever this is, he’s using items within the home—not bringing his own weapons with him.”
“That we know of,” Nate said, lifting a finger. “Let’s not make any assumptions this early.”
“Right, right.” Laura sighed, flicking back and forth between the two pages as she compared the women. “I can’t see any obvious link. Local PD say they haven’t yet found a connection between them either.”
“So it’s a random opportunity killer,” Nate said heavily, rocking his head back against the seat. “Great. My favorite. Always so easy to solve.”
“Let’s not make any assumptions this early,” Laura teased him. “Might be something that ties them together yet. We don’t have the full picture. Besides, they’re both in the same area, so that’s one connection already.”
“Same block?” Nate asked hopefully, raising an eyebrow.
Laura studied the two maps that had been provided, grayscale printouts showing the pinned locations of the two crime scenes. “No,” she said. “They’re both in Albany, though.”
“That’ll narrow it down.” Nate shook his head. “So, why are they struggling with this one so much?”
“Looks like the killer is meticulous,” Laura replied, scanning the last page of the report. “There’s no witnesses as of yet, although local appeals are still ongoing. They think he goes in at night when no one else can see. Probably wears gloves—there’s no preliminary indication of any forensics evidence. He’s using things from within the home, which speaks both to a lack of a planning and yet very clear forethought. He doesn’t want to leave a trace behind.”
“Still seems quick for them to call us in. Was this their shout, or are we unwelcome?”
Laura tapped the page which had their landing instructions. “It says here we’ll be met by the sheriff himself, if that tells you anything.”
“It tells me they’re freaking out about this. Great. Well, at least we’re not going to be given the cold shoulder when we ask for assistance.” Nate closed his eyes, his head still tilted back. “I wish this was a longer flight. I could do with a nap.”
“Then have one,” Laura suggested. “They call it a power nap when it’s short, right? Maybe you’ll wake up more powerful.”
“You’re saying I’m not powerful enough?” Nate asked, flexing his muscles with a grin.
Any other time, Laura thought, she would have patted him on the arm and said something condescending. She drew back from touching him again. “You’re not funny when you’re tired,” she said instead, looking out her window dismissively.
She probably would have been satisfied to sit there, staring right out her window and not seeing a thing, if Nate hadn’t spoken again.
“Hey, you know, I’ve been thinking about that little girl,” he said. “Amy.”
There was something wrong with his voice. It was just a little too casual. Like he’d been thinking about what to say and how to say it.
“Oh yeah?” Laura asked, looking back around. She reached for the in-flight magazine for something to keep her hands and face busy. Not that there was ever anything interesting in these things.
“You knew exactly where to look for her, didn’t you?” Nate said, his head still tilted back. His hands were resting on his own legs. Very still. As if he was making a study out of not moving.
“I just guessed,” Laura said, shaking her head. Fear tasted bitter in her mouth. It was a familiar feeling by now, but still an unwelcome one. The thought that someone would guess—and the fact that it was someone close enough to really blow up her life—only made it worse. Silently, she begged him to just trust her like he always did. “If I’d have known exactly where she was, there’s no way I would have left her for that long. I’d have gone right to her, believe me.”
“No, I get that,” Nate said. “It’s just, you knew she was underground. You said that to me.”
Laura shrugged. “Did I? It was just a feeling. I thought I saw dirt on his hands and the knees of his jeans when he was walking over to me. I thought he looked like he’d been digging.”
“That’s it?” Nate asked. “The special agent in charge thought you’d gotten some kind of tip from him. Like he’d told you a clue before everyone else caught up.”
Laura glanced up at him sharply. “You know I wouldn’t hold that back,” she said. “I don’t want glory.”
“Right, no, I know,” Nate said slowly.
Laura cursed herself internally. She should have owned up to it. Told him that, yes, she’d heard something the kidnapper said. Hadn’t been able to interpret it right away, but on reflection, she’d realized he was talking about the girl. If she had passed it off like that, there wouldn’t have been any further questions. At least, not any that she couldn’t answer.
“It’s just,” Nate continued, clearly not letting it go, “I mean, we’ve worked together—what? Three years now?”
“A little over that,” Laura conceded.
“And you’re always lucky. I mean, I don’t know if it’s luck, or you just got a real strong intuition, or what.” Nate hesitated. From the corner of her eye, Laura caught him turning his face slightly toward h
er. His sharply chiseled black goatee framed a mouth that was hesitant, a straight line that kept opening and closing without a word. “It’s just—that was some kind of luck. I mean, impossible, really.”
Laura shrugged again. “I don’t know. Call it divine inspiration. Whatever it was, we got seriously lucky. Part of that probably has something to do with the fact we were the only damn agents who thought to give the house a second look, like I said.”
“They would have gotten to it,” Nate said fairly.
“She would have been dead.”
At those words, they both drifted into silence.
“Well,” Nate said, finally. “If that’s all it was.”
“It was,” Laura confirmed, flicking to a new page in the magazine even though she hadn’t read a word on the previous one. She felt tension rising up the back of her neck. If he asked again, she wasn’t sure she had anything to convince him. What would she say?
Wouldn’t it be so much easier just to tell him? Just to let it all out? Like the relief that came with no longer resisting a drink: just stop fighting, let it pour down your throat and ease everything away. Wouldn’t it be better if she just stopped fighting?
But it wouldn’t end there. She’d have to tell him everything. Her father. His death. Nate’s own death, hanging over him like a shroud even now. And she didn’t want to tell him that—not when she hadn’t even come to terms with it herself.
If he pushed again, she didn’t know what she could possibly say to make him stop.
But after that, Nate tucked his head back against the seat again and settled more comfortably, falling into a light sleep. Laura was free to sit in silence and stop pretending to be interested in other things, relief washing over her. She stared out the foggy window, seeing the scratches on the glass more than the view beyond it.
The relief was short-lived. She could only think of one thing: Nate was going to die. She couldn’t stop thinking it, over and over again. He was going to die.
She could only hope that whatever they were about to walk into wouldn’t be the thing to trigger it.
