by JB Lynn
The older agent replied smoothly and with a practiced smile, “Not a problem. We appreciate that you agreed to see us. I’m Special Agent Chase Morgan and this is my partner Special Agent Sebastian Black.”
The younger agent, his expression stony, inclined his head by way of greeting. Agent Black looked to be about her age, which meant that he was the one Bailey must have called. He didn’t appear to be the helpful sort.
She shot Bailey an inquiring look.
Bailey’s only response was to lift one shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “How’s Laurie doing?” As an afterthought he added for the other two men’s benefit, “Laurie, Emily’s sister, was a friend of the victim.”
“She’s been holed up in her room for hours with her friend Anna. Do you know her?”
“The circus freak?”
Emily raised her eyebrows. “I like the girl.”
“I do too. Williams calls her that. I shouldn’t have.”
“Come in.” She walked past the two agents, leading the way to the Big Room. Reaching in, she flipped on the light. “Have a seat.”
The Feds both walked right in, but Bailey hovered in the doorway. Black began examining the plaques and articles on the wall. Morgan, hands in his pockets, stood before the bay window, staring out at the night.
“Come on, Bay,” she teased. “I promise you won’t get in trouble.”
Bailey grinned sheepishly. “The last time you told me that I ended up grounded for a week.”
They shared a secret smile, and her anxiety about the upcoming conversation with the Feds dissolved. With a wink, she plopped herself down into the overstuffed armchair. “How can I help you, gentlemen?”
“You can tell us why you think a dead girl was dumped on your doorstep,” Agent Black said bluntly.
Emily flinched.
“You never did get the highest marks in people skills, did you, Black?” Bailey stepped between her and his former classmate. His voice was deceptively even, but laced with icy fury. His stance was decidedly aggressive.
Black didn’t back down. “Follow through and dedication aren’t your strengths, O’Neil.”
Before Emily could spend too much time worrying about what the hell that cryptic insult meant, Morgan’s dry tone ruthlessly reminded the three younger people why they’d come together in the first place. “This is productive. I apologize for my partner’s brusqueness, Miss Wright. What he meant to ask was—”
Anna, piercings twinkling, burst in. “I need a ride home.”
Turning away from his adversary, Bailey told her, “Give me a minute and I’ll take you.”
“Thanks, Deputy D—O’Neil.” Spinning around, she left as abruptly as she’d arrived.
Emily smiled, knowing that Anna had almost called him Deputy Dimples.
“And she is?” Morgan asked.
“The circus freak,” Black muttered.
“Laurie’s friend,” Emily corrected.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Bailey jerk his head to the side, indicating to Sebastian Black to follow him out of the room. The way he’d leaped to her defense was chivalrous, and kind of thrilling. Even though she was a big girl, perfectly capable of taking care of herself, she wasn’t sure how she felt about this macho grandstanding. She thought she kind of liked it.
“My partner didn’t mean any harm,” Morgan said quietly, pulling her attention away from the two men huddling in the doorway, arguing in whispers.
“Bailey said he was calling in a friend.”
“A friendly rival. Those two had quite the competition when they were in training.”
“Bailey always was competitive.”
Emily was too busy trying to eavesdrop on the other conversation to pay too much attention to the older agent.
“They both want to be the best at what they do. They were fairly even matched at the Academy, but it was Bailey who came out number one in his class. Sebastian has never forgiven him for that.”
“So he’s holding a grudge?” Emily asked, fascinated that Bailey, despite the antagonism that tinged their relationship, had asked Black for help. The only conclusion she could draw was that, despite their differences, Bay respected the abilities of the other man.
“I’m not so much sure it’s a grudge as—”
Anna popped back into the room. “I forgot to tell you that Laurie says to tell you she’s not going to school tomorrow.”
Emily took a deep breath, mentally counting to ten. “Tell her I’ll be up in a little while to talk about it.”
“You should make her go,” Anna told her with a wisdom that didn’t match her age or her outlandish look. “It’ll be good for her to talk to people. Besides, I heard they’re bringing in grief counselors. That’s got to be the most depressing job ever, dontchya think?”
She was gone again before Emily could come up with a suitable reply.
“Your sister seems to have a friend with a good, albeit pink, head on her shoulders,” Chase said.
“She does.”
“Looks like Bailey is giving my partner an earful about how to treat you. You’re old friends?” That he thought they were something more was obvious, but he was much too tactful to suggest it.
“Best friends as kids. Now, not so much.” Watching him stand toe-to-toe with the hard-ass agent, defending her, she wished they were more than friends. She’d never realized how sexy a man defending her honor could be.
“I get the impression that despite his good intentions, you don’t need Bailey O’Neil to protect you from my partner.” His gaze slid to the two men who were now shaking hands. Lowering his voice so that only she could hear, he added, “Not that you don’t like the idea of him stepping in as your personal hero.”
The telltale tingle of a blush warmed her cheeks. Was she that transparent? First Ginny knowing they’d kissed and now Agent Morgan practically reading her mind.
“Em?”
Feeling as though her cheeks were flaming, she could barely bring herself to meet Bailey’s eyes when he called to her from the doorway.
“I’m going to take Anna home now. Then I have to go deal with my grandmother about the funeral.” Revulsion dripped from every syllable of the word “grandmother.” “Service is over in River Heights at ten. You’ll be there, right?”
She nodded automatically. With everything else that had been going on, she hadn’t even given a thought to attending. She felt for Bailey. Every town had that one mean, crazy resident who kids avoided when trick-or-treating and adults gave a wide berth to. In Lakeside Acres, that person was Mrs. O. She was impossible in the best of situations; Emily couldn’t imagine what she’d be like now. No wonder Bailey was looking worn-down. “I’ll be there.”
“Good.” Was that relief in his voice? “If these two give you any trouble, just let me know.” With a quick salute in Morgan’s direction, he was gone.
“We got off on the wrong foot, Ms. Wright.” Sounding genuinely contrite, Special Agent Black walked up to her. “Can we start over? Hello, I’m Sebastian Black.” He extended his hand, and she automatically shook it.
“Please call me Emily.”
“Em, the alarm!” Bailey bellowed from the foyer.
“Excuse me.” She ran from the room.
Bailey was waiting by the front door. Anna was nowhere in sight.
“That girl’s an odd child,” he said as Emily grew near. “I’ve never seen anyone so excited to sit in the back of a squad car.”
“She is unique.”
She reached for the alarm keypad, but he stopped her, grabbing her hand.
“If you need anything, you’ll call me, right?”
Her flush flared back to life at the naked intensity in his voice.
His eyes narrowed, gauging her reaction. Lifting a hand he brushed his knuckles against her heated skin. Her entire body caught fire at the contact. Eyes drifting shut, she swayed unsteadily toward him.
“I’ve got to go.” They were standing so close that his whispered wor
ds fanned her cheeks.
Opening her eyes, she could see that his lips were mere inches away. In a bold move that took them both by surprise, she grabbed his shirt. His eyes widened. Slowly and deliberately, making her intention clear, giving him plenty of time to pull away, she tugged him closer and closer until only a millimeter separated their mouths. This was no desperate last-ditch attempt on her part, no drunken fumbling on his. This was two people intentionally giving themselves to one another. While their other two kisses had been riddled with impulsivity, this calculated move on both their parts ratcheted up the intensity. This was not just a kiss, this was a beginning.
She wasn’t sure which of them closed the final distance between them, but suddenly their lips touched. Unlike outside The Garden Gate, this time Bailey kissed her with an aching tenderness that made her feel more cherished than she ever had in her life. This was how she’d always imagined it would be with him. Perfect.
His lips, like the rest of him, were warm and solid. Releasing her grip on his shirt, she flattened her hands against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. A shiver of desire had her pressing closer to him as he teased her tongue with his.
Hearing a sound from the other room, she pushed him away just as quickly she’d grabbed him. Despite the way he made her feel, they weren’t the only two people in the world.
He loomed above her, staring down. His eyes had changed to the shade of a storm-tossed sea, and a scowl had been etched on his face.
Her heart sank as she realized kissing him had been a mistake. She wished she could think of something to say to make light of her foolish gesture, but her mind remained blank.
His stubble-covered jaw worked as though he was going to speak, but he too stayed silent.
After a long, painful moment, while Emily wished the earth would open up and swallow her whole, he simply turned around and walked out, pulling the door closed behind him.
“Idiot, idiot, idiot.” Fingers trembling, she punched the code into the keypad. What the hell had she been thinking kissing him like that? All she’d succeeded in doing was confirming that Bailey O’Neil, despite the mixed signals he’d sent, was definitely not interested in her. That, and the fact she’d made a total fool of herself. Again.
Desperately wanting to crawl under a rock, she instead had to go talk to the two FBI agents conferring in the Big Room. Fanning her still glowing face, she forced herself to take a deep breath, and mentally chanted the mantra that never failed to center her, Calm, cool and collected. Calm, cool and collected.
Black and Morgan had switched positions. The older agent now examined the wall, while his partner stared out into the dark night.
Avoiding her father’s favorite chair this time, Emily instead perched on a leather ottoman.
“According to O’Neil’s report, you found the body at approximately 9:00 a.m.” Black didn’t turn away from the window as he spoke.
“If that’s what he says…I could double-check my cell phone if you’d like.”
“That’s not necessary. You discovered her after returning from a run?”
“Yes.”
“And how long was that?”
“The loop around the lake is about five miles, figuring I probably averaged a ten-or eleven-minute mile, I’d say less than an hour.”
Turning toward one another with the precision of synchronized swimmers, the two agents shared a look she couldn’t read before Morgan asked, “Do you run around the lake as part of your regular routine?”
She laughed, the sound tight and brittle even to her own ears. “I haven’t run around the lake in fourteen years.”
That revelation had both men spinning to stare at her.
“I don’t live in Lakeside Acres. I live in New York. My routines, my life is there.”
Another loaded look passed between the two men. This time she could see that something was clearly concerning them. “What?”
Black shook his head, clearly not wanting to share his thoughts. Morgan though stared at her for a long moment, assessing.
Her palm began to itch the way it did when a creep, no matter how well dressed, stared too long on the subway. She remembered the instructor of the first self-defense class she’d ever taken saying, “Everyone’s got a built-in early warning system. Never ignore it.” Clasping her hands together, her thumb rubbing the scar, she braced herself for the bad news she knew was coming.
“The body was—”
“Chase!” The warning tone in Sebastian’s voice was unmistakable.
“She deserves to know.”
An eddy of tension and despair swirled in her gut. Calm, cool and collected. Calm, cool and collected. The mantra wasn’t working. The nervous energy made her jumpy. She leaped to her feet, unable to stay still a moment longer.
“I’m sorry, Emily,” Chase said gently, compassion shining in his eyes, “but either this guy got extremely lucky, when he dumped Jackie Willet’s body in your driveway or…” He hesitated.
The pressure in her chest grew heavier by the millisecond. She suddenly wanted to cover her ears and scream, “La la la, I can’t hear you.” Instead she concentrated on the effort to breathe. In and out. In and out.
“This is such a bad idea,” Sebastian muttered.
“Or,” Chase continued gravely, ignoring him. “He knew exactly when he could leave her, because he was watching you.”
The base of her spine went ice-cold as the implications of his suggestion began to sink in. Whoever had killed that poor girl knew when she’d left the house. “Watching me?” She hated the way the words came out as a pathetic squeak.
Chase nodded. “Have you noticed anyone following you?”
Emily immediately thought of the notes and flowers. How they’d given her a bad vibe from the start. She’d told herself she’d been overreacting, but now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe her gut had been right.
“You thought of someone, Emily?” Chase was studying her face closely.
She looked away from him, staring blindly out at the lake. She suddenly felt light-headed and her stomach flip-flopped nervously. Balling her hands into fists, she forced herself to take a breath. Giving in to the terrible fear that threatened to decimate her control wouldn’t help matters.
She had to tell the FBI agents what she knew. She had to give them the notes. Maybe they were clues. If the killer had known when she’d gone for a run, it meant he’d been stalking her since she’d returned to town. She and Laurie weren’t safe.
Chapter 13
Taking care not to get his dress uniform dirty or wrinkled, Bailey leaned against the wall of the morgue wondering if the chill that had pervaded into his bones was a result of the room’s temperature, or a fear of what the medical examiner would find.
Doctor Eleanor Gershwin, realizing that Sheriff O’Neil’s funeral was scheduled for the late morning, had offered to come in at the crack of dawn to perform Jackie Willet’s autopsy so that Bailey could attend.
He’d been up half the night worrying about how and when The Baby Doll Strangler would strike again. Even when he had drifted off to sleep, his slumber had been less than restful, filled with dreams of Emily Wright. Hot, sex-drenched dreams, the likes of which he hadn’t had since he was a teenager. He’d had to take a cold shower before leaving the house. No wonder he was freezing now.
Exhausted, he was content to stand back and let Chase and Sebastian do their thing. While they stood watch over Jackie Willet’s body, he read over the file on The Baby Doll Strangler that Chase had been generous enough to share. It was thicker than when Bailey had first read it back in the Academy.
He remembered the first girl, Ashley Johnson. Pigtails, gap-tooth grin and a sparkle in her eyes, she radiated mischievous vitality. At least she did in her fourth-grade photograph. It was the most recent picture her grandmother could find of her when Ashley went missing five years later. Bailey compared Ashley’s grinning school picture to the crime-scene photos.
Even th
ough she was fifteen in the photograph, she looked like she was a sleeping baby doll, just like Jackie Willet. That’s how the killer had arranged their bodies. That’s how he’d wanted Ashley’s grandmother and Emily to find them.
He’d laid the Johnson girl on her side, tucking her folded hands beneath her cheek. She looked like a sleeping angel. She didn’t look like she’d been put through hell for two weeks, but Bailey knew the child had suffered. They’d all known it before ever reading the coroner’s report. Even Sebastian, the most stoic member of their class, had been upset by what they’d found.
There had never been a chance to save Ashley Johnson. Hers was the first case that involved the killer the press had dubbed The Baby Doll Strangler. She hadn’t been the last. Ashley Johnson was dead before the FBI was even called in. The local police department hadn’t exactly spread themselves thin searching for a little black girl being raised by her grandmother because her own mother was doing time on a drug conviction.
Her disappearance, like her short life, had barely been a blip on anyone’s radar until the next girl went missing.
He moved on to the next set of photos in the file.
Unlike Ashley Johnson, Kimberly Waldorf’s upper-middle-class parents had a recent picture of their missing daughter. Blond-haired, pink-cheeked and blue-eyed, Kimberly looked nothing like Ashley. Everyone had hoped that because of her different ethnicity and socio-economic status Kimberly had been taken by a different perp. Bailey had wanted to believe that too, but in his gut he’d always known.
Her appearance and parents’ standing in the community had not saved Kimberly from the same cruel end Ashley had met. Like Ashley, Kimberly’s posed and primped body had been left for her parents to find. Like Kimberly, her hair, like her life, had been cut short, and twirled into perfect ringlets.
Thumbing through the file, Bailey read that six months had passed between Ashley’s and Kimberly’s deaths in Brewer, Maine and the murders of Robin McKirdy and Amanda Scheer outside of Pinehurst, North Carolina. The killer had migrated to a warmer climate, as though driven by the changing seasons, and claimed two more innocent victims. That had been ten years ago. He’d claimed another two victims every year since then, with no discernable geographical pattern besides staying on the East Coast, but Bailey didn’t have the stomach to stare into their eyes today.
