by Janie Crouch
Some emotion passed across her face but was gone before he—even with all his training—could read it. Frustrating.
“I understand,” she said, nodding.
“Brandon, the last murder took place inside the town limits of Buckeye, on the outskirts of Phoenix. That’s where Andrea is from. With ritual killings like this, we both know it’s usually someone from the area.”
Brandon grimaced. He couldn’t deny that. Having someone familiar with the area—especially someone with a stellar skill set like Andrea’s—would be invaluable.
But still, Brandon didn’t want to work with her. Didn’t want to be in forced proximity with her for an extended length of time. He glanced over at her but she wasn’t looking at him, again. She was studying the pictures in the file, as if she couldn’t care less about the conversation going on around her.
Brandon’s eyes narrowed. No, he did not want to partner with this woman for a case. He’d discovered over the past year that he liked working alone, but it was more than that.
He didn’t trust Andrea. The woman had secrets. Secrets tended to blow up in everyone’s faces at the most inopportune moments.
David had kept his illness a secret from everyone for as long as he could. Brandon didn’t want to be around secrets anymore.
He especially didn’t want to be around a stunningly beautiful woman with secrets. The kind of woman who made him want to toss out his never-mix-business-with-pleasure rule. The kind that made him want to find out all her secrets.
He didn’t trust her and she was distracting. She damn well had distracted him every time he’d seen her the past few months. Including today. Her perfect legs in her perfect suit with her perfect hair and makeup. It all distracted him.
He was not a man who liked to be distracted.
Brandon could kill a man a dozen ways with his bare hands, but it wasn’t his strength or speed he relied on to get ahead of criminals. He relied on his intellect, his education, his experience to stop the worst of the worst bad guys.
Having Andrea Gordon’s distracting presence around him during a serial-killer case was just not going to work.
He leaned back in his chair and feigned a casualness he didn’t have. “I just think it’s better for me to work alone on this case.”
Because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to work at all otherwise.
Chapter Two
“She has secrets, Steve. Something she’s not telling people.”
Steve had already excused Andrea from his office and had told her—much to Brandon’s vexation—to go pack for the trip to Buckeye.
“We all have secrets.” Steve had moved himself back behind his desk. Evidently time for neutral ground was over. Steve was reaffirming that he was in charge.
“Do you know what they call her around here?”
Steve raised one eyebrow.
“‘The ice queen.’ She never talks to anyone, never engages anyone. Nobody knows anything about her.”
“Just because she’s not the life of the party makes her an ice queen? I thought better of you, Han.”
Brandon didn’t know why he felt the need to so quickly defend himself, but he did. “Not me. I didn’t say that or think it, nor any of our inner group. It’s just what I’ve heard some other people say.”
“She’s damn good at what she does. Next time someone wants to talk trash about her because she’s not all touchy-feely, you be sure to tell them that.”
“We all know she’s good. She’s a natural reader. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Brandon held a PhD in interpersonal communication and still couldn’t read people’s expressions and body language to the extent Andrea could.
“But?”
“No buts about that. All I’m saying is she has secrets.”
“She has a past, Brandon. We all do. Hers is a little more bleak than most of ours. If she’s got secrets it’s because she wants to not live in that past.”
Brandon had to admit there was nothing wrong with that.
“I know it hurt you when David didn’t tell you about his cancer. To find out then lose him so quickly was tough. It was for all of us.”
Brandon got up out of his chair and walked over to the window. “I want to say this isn’t about David, but of course that’s not true.”
“I know he was your best friend too, Brandon.”
Brandon nodded without turning around. David had been his best friend since long before they worked together at Omega. David had been his anchor when the darkness of wandering inside the minds of killers had become too much.
“Andrea’s the top person for this case, just like you’re the top person for this case. There’s somebody out there murdering young women and he needs to be stopped before he kills again.”
Brandon knew Steve was right.
“Andrea’s young, only twenty-three,” Steve continued. “She’s unsure about her abilities and where she fits in here.”
Twenty-three? Something inside Brandon eased. She was young. Brandon was only thirty-one, but twenty-three seemed like a lifetime ago. He’d been more unsure about himself then too, so he couldn’t blame her.
“You know me, Steve. I like having all the facts going into anything. She’s an unknown variable and it gets my hackles up.”
“I know some of what she keeps to herself, and although I am not at liberty to share, what I know about her makes me respect her more, not less. But some of her secrets she’s never shared with me. May not have shared them with anyone. That’s her choice.”
Brandon nodded. As Steve said, everyone had secrets.
“She’s damn good at her job and she’ll help you find that killer.”
Brandon ran a hand over his face. “Okay, you’re right. I’ll go pack.”
“Han, thank you,” Steve said as Brandon turned for the door. “I know this isn’t easy.”
“Like you said, the important thing is getting the killer off the street.”
“Going back to that town is not going to be easy for her. I’d appreciate if you’d just keep an eye out for her emotional well-being.”
“Anything in particular I should know about?”
Steve shrugged. “It’s where she grew up. Faster than most, I would venture.”
Somehow Brandon got the feeling there was a huge chunk of information Steve was leaving out, but he let it slide. “Okay, I’ll keep an eye out for her as best I can. Is that it?”
“Actually, no.”
Brandon didn’t even try to refrain from rolling his eyes. “There’s more?”
“It’s probably nothing, but I wanted to make you aware of it.” Steve’s tone had turned from concerned to downright serious.
Brandon walked back toward his desk. “Okay.”
“Damian Freihof escaped from federal custody thirty-six hours ago.”
Brandon filtered his mind for the information, finding it. “He was the guy who planned to blow up those people in that bank in Phoenix, right? What, three years ago?”
“Four. We also think he was responsible for two other bombings, but we weren’t able to prove it.”
“Do you suspect he’s in Buckeye?”
“No. But like you said, the bank he tried to blow up was in Phoenix, pretty close by. He blames Andrea for his arrest.”
“Why? Was she even there?”
“She was there, and she was the one who led to his capture, although she was not in law enforcement at the time.”
Yeah, because at the time she would’ve been nineteen years old, if Brandon’s math was correct.
“Did you tell Andrea about his escape?”
Steve’s hesitation was minuscule, fleeting. Brandon would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been trained to see it. “No, we chose not to tell her. When Freihof w
ent to prison, Andrea was not yet working for us. Plus with two life sentences we didn’t figure he would be getting out until he was at least eighty. He escaped during a transfer.”
“You think keeping her out of the loop is wise?”
Steve shrugged. “Freihof was mad at pretty much everyone during his case and sentencing, so we didn’t—and still don’t—give his threats against Andrea much credence. We’re not even sure how he got Andrea’s name since she wasn’t involved in his arrest or trial, but I doubt he’s after her now. All she really did was let us know there was a third man in the bank. I don’t think she had any idea he planned to blow everyone up and that her info thwarted his attempt.”
Another secret. Another potential problem.
“All right.” Brandon nodded. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for any extra psychos while we’re chasing down our current one.”
Steve smiled. “Remember, she’s not an agent, just a full-time consultant. She has some physical training, but not nearly as much as you do.”
“Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Steve shook Brandon’s hand. “Good hunting. Keep me posted.”
Brandon nodded and headed toward the door. This was already more complicated than Brandon liked it. And he knew it was just going to get worse.
* * *
BRANDON’S ARRIVAL AT the Colorado Springs Airport three hours later to discover the flight to Phoenix had been delayed due to mechanical issues did not make him feel any better about the start of this case. They were flying commercial since the two Omega jets were occupied with other missions.
Andrea showed up, still looking chic and cool in her skirt and blouse. The ice queen. Brandon wondered if she ever let herself get rumpled. His fingers literally itched with the desire to be the one who did it.
Rumpling Andrea Gordon was such a bad idea.
Brandon had noticed her around Omega for years—it was difficult not to notice someone who looked like Andrea—but he’d been very careful not to allow himself to study her. Not to try to figure out what made her tick and what made her smile or frown. With two advanced degrees in human behavior and communication, not to mention one in law, figuring people out was what Brandon did.
But with Andrea that had seemed a dangerous path to start down.
Then for the past year he’d been so involved in his own issues—David’s death, learning how to work alone—that his attraction for Andrea had gotten pushed to the back burner. But now it was sitting down next to him in the airport chair, unavoidable.
“Hello.” She smiled briefly at him. “Ready for this?”
Andrea wanted to be professional. Everything about her suggested it, from her prim clothes, to her tasteful makeup, to her perfect hair. Brandon would answer in kind. Professional was better for both of them.
He nodded. “Not quite up to speed yet, but getting there. We’re scheduled to meet with the Phoenix and Buckeye police tomorrow. Evidently Buckeye’s department isn’t equipped to handle a homicide investigation, so Phoenix is helping out.”
“Buckeye is small. They don’t get many serial killers.”
“Let’s hope we can stop this one before he kills again.”
He found her studying him as he took some files out of his briefcase, her expression a little bemused. “What?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “You’re just...complicated.”
Brandon’s eyes narrowed. Quite the interesting observation. “Why do you say that?”
She shrugged. “Most people only have one or maybe two main emotions transpiring inside them at the same time. You have more.” Her lips pursed. “And they’re complex.”
He did have more. Brandon knew that about himself. Knew that he compartmentalized in order to be able to get more done, to think about different things without actually dwelling on them.
It was part of what made him a good profiler. His subconscious brain was able to continue to work on certain aspects of a case while his conscious brain focused on something entirely different. Part of it was his own natural ability and intelligence. Part of it came from years of training his brain to do what he wanted.
He also had darkness in him. He could admit that, too. A side of him that knew he could use his intellect and training and experience to commit crimes if he really wanted. And would probably never get caught. It was never too far from the surface, although he never shared it with anyone.
Brandon had never had someone—especially someone who didn’t really know him well—sense the complexity of the emotions inside him. It was disconcerting, particularly because he didn’t want her to be able to read him so well.
“Oh.” Andrea looked away from him.
“What?”
“Annoyance just swamped out pretty much everything else.” She folded her hands in her lap and looked at them.
She thought he was annoyed with her, when really his annoyance stemmed from not having as much control over expressing his emotions as he thought he had. That was the problem with naturals, with people who were just gifted behavioral analysts rather than those who had studied human psychology and nonverbal communication to become experts. The naturals could read the emotions but couldn’t always figure out the context.
“Let’s just focus on the case, okay?” He handed her a bundle of files. “We pretty much need to be completely familiar with all of this before we meet with the locals tomorrow.”
Andrea grimaced. “Okay.”
So she didn’t like to do her homework. She wouldn’t get far solving cases without it. No amount of skill reading people could offset having a good understanding of the particulars of a case.
Brandon began reading through the files. He often found that insight came after the third or fourth read-through, rarely the first.
It didn’t take him long to realize Andrea wasn’t reading. She was looking at the photographs—the postmortem shots of the women as well as the crime-scene photos—but not actually reading any of the information that went along with them.
When she slipped on headphones and began listening to music or whatever, Brandon felt his irritation grow. Did she need a sound track to make it more interesting? Was death not enough?
Brandon knew different people processed information different ways. Some of his best friends at Omega often got insight on a case while in a workout room or in the middle of hand-to-hand sparring with someone. He should cut Andrea some slack. If she wanted to listen to music and just study the pictures, that was her prerogative.
But damn if it didn’t piss him off. It didn’t happen often, but she had fooled him. Who would’ve guessed that under the professional clothes and standoffish attitude rested the heart of a slacker. Brandon took a deep breath and centered himself. It wasn’t his fault or his problem if she lacked motivation and self-discipline.
He’d told Steve he preferred to work alone. It looked as if, despite Andrea’s attractive packaging, he’d be getting his wish.
Chapter Three
This whole thing was a terrible idea. Going back to Buckeye? Terrible. Going back with the likes of Brandon Han? Even worse. The plane hit some turbulence at thirty-five thousand feet, as if nodding in agreement with Andrea’s conclusion.
Brandon didn’t want to work with her on the case. He’d made that abundantly clear in Steve’s office. She wanted to assume it was her fault, that he knew about her shortcomings and lack of education as an Omega consultant, but forced herself to stop. He’d mentioned liking to work alone. She could understand that, too. Andrea liked working alone, but for different reasons.
Brandon’s irritation had been pretty tangible when she’d sat down next to him at the airport. It had just grown as they waited for their flight, first when she’d mentioned him being complicated, then when they were both looking through the case files.
By the time they got on the plane, about an hour after their scheduled departure time, Brandon was hardly even talking to her. He was mad—she had no idea why—and she was awkward—as usual around someone she was so attracted to. Good times.
Andrea tried to pretend she was reading the files when he handed them to her, but she wasn’t. She knew better than to even try. Her dyslexia made reading simple books difficult, although she had learned some exercises to help with that. But reading handwritten notes and case files often written in different fonts and sizes—that pretty much just led to a headache and frustration.
She’d had an extra hour at her apartment, so she’d used the special software on her computer to scan a few pages so they could be converted into audio clips. She’d found that listening worked much better for her than trying to read. Unfortunately, she hadn’t had enough time to scan all the files as she normally would.
Listening to the files on audio clips had just made Brandon more irritated. Andrea had no idea what to do about that, so she ignored it. She would listen to the clips she had, then spend this evening—all night if she had to—reading through the files in her room, when she was alone and it was quiet. She refused to go into that meeting with the local police tomorrow unprepared.
She didn’t want to go back there at all. If it wasn’t for Steve asking her to go, Andrea wouldn’t have done it, serial killer or not.
Maybe they wouldn’t run into anyone she knew. Or maybe the people in Buckeye wouldn’t recognize her. She’d gone to great lengths to look nothing like the girl who had worked at Jaguar’s. Her blond hair was shorter, cut in a flattering bob; her makeup was tasteful. She’d learned how to dress and present herself in a professional manner.
She doubted her own aunt and uncle would recognize her. Not that she planned to drop in on them. She hadn’t seen them since the last time her uncle, in a drunken stupor again, had awakened her with a backhand that had sent her sprawling from her bed to the floor when she was seventeen. Another punch had sent her hurling into a glass table. She’d gotten away from him and hidden that night, wrapping her cut arm in a T-shirt.
