by Robin Caroll
She shook her head. “I’d never seen her before. She didn’t hang out with us.”
No obvious connection between the two girls—good. “About Gina . . . anyone she was having problems with recently?”
“Everybody likes Gina. She’s kind and generous. Smart. Funny. Nobody I know would have anything against her.” Honesty sat in the contours of her face. “Do you think she’s okay? You don’t think—?”
Nick stood and plastered on his most reassuring expression. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Mantle. I’ll be in touch.” He handed her his business card. “If you hear from Gina, please give me a call.”
“Sure.”
After giving a final nod, Nick left the apartment and headed to his car. The late-afternoon sun split the blue sky. A gust of wind tickled the back of his neck.
Years of experience told him something was off. Maybe it was the oddness of the senator and his daughter’s relationship. Maybe it was Cynthia’s comment about Gina acting weird the night she went missing. Maybe it was the peculiar feeling sitting in his gut like a proverbial lead balloon. Whatever it was, Nick had the sensation this case would be different.
His cell rang as he slipped behind the wheel. “Nick Hagar.”
“It’s Timmons, sir.”
“Finished at the senator’s?”
“Yes, sir. Just got back to the office. That BOLO we put out on Ms. Ford’s car?”
They’d put out the “Be On the LookOut” immediately upon notification of Gina and her vehicle missing. “Yeah?”
“Someone just called it in to Memphis PD. Body reported found inside the car. TBI investigator is on its way.”
“What’s the address?” Nick started his car’s engine as Darren rattled off the street and number—in the same area they’d found Hailey Carter’s body, close to where he was now. If he hurried, he’d probably arrive right behind the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation representative. “I’m on my way. Meet me there.” He disconnected the call and pulled onto Poplar Avenue.
Just because there was a body in the car, just like Carter’s, and that it was found in the same area didn’t mean it . . . No, they didn’t even know if the body was Gina or not. He would stick to the established facts thus far.
As he drove, Nick mentally reviewed the dossier on David Tiddle. Thirty years old. Parents died when he was ten. No other living relatives could be located, so he was put into care of the state. Bounced around foster homes, making appearances in juvie a handful of times, then dropped out of the system’s paperwork trail at sixteen.
Nick took a sharp right onto South Goodlett Street, then slammed on his brakes as a truck pulled out in front of him. Tiddle didn’t show back up on the report until his late twenties. A couple of pleas for minors, but all probation or warnings. Nothing serious. Work record read sketchy, at best. Waiter. Maître d’ at several restaurants. Assistant to various professions. No stability. No permanency. Hit or miss.
Two turns later and Nick parked his unmarked car behind a local patrol cruiser on Norriswood Avenue. The two uniformed officers paused in their discussion with a young couple diagonal to Gina Ford’s car.
Nick flashed his badge. “Special Agent Nick Hagar.” He shoved the shield back into its place on his hip. “We put the BOLO out on this one.”
One of the uniforms stepped away from the couple. “Officer Layton. TBI will be here soon.” He nodded at the couple talking with the other officer. The girl cried behind her hand, streaks of bluish-black makeup running down her face. “They were heading into the Engineering Tech building and saw the car with the door left open, came over to investigate. Saw the body and called it in.”
Nick made his way to the driver’s open door. Little drops of blood stained the floorboard. At least, that’s what he assumed they were. A female figure hunched over the steering wheel. All he could tell about the victim was it appeared to be a young African American woman. “Did they touch the body?”
Officer Layton nodded. “He says they moved her back to see if she was alive, saw that she was dead, and let her fall back over the steering wheel, then called us. We’ve verified they are, in fact, usually here at this time every week doing independent work. Not many others are here on this day and time as no professors hold classes in these buildings on Fridays.”
Great. If this was Gina Ford, and Nick suspected it was, the crime scene had already been contaminated. Senator Ford would breathe down the bureau’s neck. Down Nick’s neck.
He wouldn’t touch the body further. Vital forensic evidence could be lost forever. “Call the TBI director and ask that he get his best forensic team out here to collect evidence. Per FBI request.”
Officer Layton moved to his cruiser while Nick joined the local officer finishing the initial interview of the couple.
“I’ll see her face in my nightmares.” The girl sniffed.
“Did you recognize her?” Nick interrupted.
“No.” The girl didn’t ask who he was, which suited him just fine.
The boy wouldn’t make eye contact with him.
“What about you?” Nick took a step toward the kid, invading his personal space, making him uncomfortable. “Did you recognize her?”
The kid shrugged. “She looked kinda familiar.”
“Familiar in you might have a class with her? Familiar in you might have seen her at a party?”
“I dunno.” He toed a loose rock with his sneaker. “She might be somebody famous. Like been on TV or something.”
Ah. He didn’t know who she was but recognized enough. “I see.” Nick nodded at the officer. “This nice man here will finish taking your information and then will ask you to report to the police station to sign your statements. You’re not to discuss anything about this with anyone. Not family, not friends, and not media. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” The boy’s bottom lip quivered for a split second. “Is this like the other girl? Reports all over campus was that she was stabbed three times in the chest and left in her car, right around here. Right?”
“No comment. That’s what you are to say about this: no comment.” Nick turned and headed back to his car. The last thing he needed was for the media hounds to get wind of this and blast it everywhere before Nick could get official confirmation of the body’s identity.
He sat behind the wheel while he waited for Timmons and the TBI agent, staring at the crime scene. If the body was truly Gina Ford, Nick would have the horrible duty of informing the senator and his wife. It was moments like this that Nick missed the innocent faith of his youth. Missed being able to believe that everything happened for a reason.
But Nick was older now and remembered all too well how it felt to be on the receiving end of that kind of news. Life and faith shattering.
“You running RFLP on the sample that came in this morning?” Eva Langston waltzed into the lab as she usually did—with a lot of drama and flair.
“Nope. Sample was too degraded to run a restriction fragment length polymorphism. Running a PCR.” Maddie looked up from the table and smiled. “Aren’t you chipper this far into the afternoon? Have a lovely lunch?”
Eva tossed her purse into her locker and donned her blue lab coat. “As a matter-of-fact, I did. I had a date with Lance.”
“Where’d y’all eat?” Maddie went back to work on entering DNA strand identifiers into the computer.
Now more than ever, doing her job flawlessly was of the utmost importance. Recently approved funding for the lab’s expansion and new equipment had been put on hold. Rumor in the wind was the money just wasn’t there. If the money didn’t come through, the crime lab would have to cut corners where it could—and salaries or employees were always the first heads on the chopping block.
“Oh, honey . . . we didn’t eat. We made out the whole time.”
“Eva!”
Maddie shook her head and frowned at her friend. “You barely know Lance.”
“So? Isn’t that the point of dating, to get to know someone?”
“Dating, yes. But how do you get to know someone better by making out for an hour?”
“You can learn a lot about a man by kissing him.” Eva grinned and waggled her finely manicured eyebrows. “C’mon, admit it—you enjoy making out just as much as I do.”
“Of course I enjoy making out.” The heat surged to Maddie’s cheeks. She ducked her head behind the computer monitor. “With someone I’ve gotten to know and care about.”
Eva plopped on the edge of the desk. “When was the last time you went out on a date?”
“Um.” Maddie scrambled to think. “I’ve had a lot going on.”
“Yeah. Going to see your little sister. Making sure the sale of your brother’s house went through with no problems. Helping your future sister-in-law pick out a wedding gown.” Eva jumped to her feet. “But when was the last time you did something for you?”
“I had my nails done just last week.” And they still looked good, Maddie noted.
“I meant, romantic. Something with a man. You know, a member of the opposite sex.”
The phone rang, startling them both. Eva recovered first and, while laughing, lifted the receiver. “Forensics Lab.”
Maddie continued her work on the computer but monitored Eva’s half of the conversation while she sang under her breath. “Love me tender—”
“Yes, sir. I understand. What’s the address?”
Lovely, a call. Just when she’d been looking forward to an early night with a good book, but her team was on call this month. “Love me sweet—”
Eva scribbled on a notepad. “Yes, sir. We will.” She hung up the phone and stared at Maddie with wide eyes. “That was the director.”
Interesting. The man never contacted their unit himself. “What’s up?”
“Seems a potential high-profile case is brewing. Body found in a car. Whole violent crime response team is being called out. Peter and the rest of the team will meet us there.”
Maddie automatically shrugged out of her lab coat and reached for the team’s royal blue vest with the yellow TBI AGENT on the back. She slipped her holster housing her gun around her waist. “Not multiple victims?” She grabbed her badge and secured it on her hip before donning the blue baseball-style cap.
Eva shook her own cap-clad head. “Director said just one. Over by the campus.” She, too, wore the team’s vest.
“Must be somebody famous.” Maddie recalled the headlines of the paper just this morning. “Or related to the girl they found last week.” Please, no. Serial murders were the hardest to deal with. No sense. No logic. Just evil and hatred.
Eva opened her desk drawer and grabbed her holster and badge. “Director’s called in the other team members. We’re to take the truck and meet at the scene.”
“The director bypassed Peter and called in the team himself? Must be something serious.” One that if they messed up, it’d be their heads on the chopping block.
Eva lifted her notepad and stared at her scribble. “The team is to liaise with an FBI agent at the scene. And his name seems so familiar. You probably know him.”
Maddie raised an eyebrow. Her brother was an FBI agent but relocated to Arkansas. His best friend, and one of Maddie’s, Darren Timmons, was in the bureau here. She knew lots of the local agents.
“A Special Agent in Charge Nick Hagar.”
“Nick?”
Eva cocked her head as she reached for the truck keys. “Wait a minute . . . that’s the guy you had a date with before you went to Louisiana, isn’t it?” She smiled and her eyes lit up. “The hunky biceps one.”
“Darren set us up.” She still couldn’t believe she’d let Darren fix her up with Nick. Of all people.
“Darren, now there’s a man.” Eva grinned. “Have you talked to this Nick Hagar since you got back?”
She led the way out of the lab. “I haven’t had time. Let’s go.” She had told him she’d call after she returned from Louisiana. Yet since returning, she hadn’t gotten up the nerve to pick up the phone. What did that mean?
“Maddie! That was weeks ago. Why haven’t you called him?” Eva wasn’t ready to let it go either as she pushed open the doors into the parking lot. “He’s single, has a good job, is handsome as all get-out, and you said he was a perfect gentleman.”
“He’s also my brother’s former boss.”
“Key word there being former.”
Maddie let out a puff of air. Her breath showed in the cool February afternoon as she hoofed it to the crime scene-investigation truck and slipped in the passenger’s seat.
How could she explain to Eva what she didn’t understand herself? Nick Hagar made her nervous, that was the only way she could put her feelings into words. His intense, dark eyes that probed through the walls of protection she’d built around her heart. The way he made her feel things, it reminded her too much of Adam and . . . well, she just knew he was a threat to her. That was it, plain and simple.
Eva shoved the key into the ignition and turned over the engine. “This is fate shoving you together.”
“Maybe. So, when are you going to see Lance again?”
Eva smiled and her cheeks pinked. “He’s picking me up at six, so we need to finish up the testing for the day. I can’t be late. He’s taking me for a picnic.”
Maddie blew on her hands. “It’s quite chilly, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“He said he’d keep me warm.” With Eva’s blond hair, blue eyes, and legs that seemed to never end, she never had much problem getting a man. Staying interested in them for longer than a couple of months, however, was a totally different subject.
While Eva rambled about the virtues of dating and making out, Maddie’s mind went to the upcoming case, the one she’d have to work with Nick on. Her thoughts raced from one possible scenario to the next. “We’re caught in a trap”—she hummed under her breath.
Was this victim going to be another young college girl, her life cut short by some sicko?
Eva made a sharp turn, knocking Maddie against the truck’s door.
“I can’t walk out . . .” Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba . . . “baby.”
She mentally went over procedure for field collection. Her team hadn’t answered a call since that big wreck the week of Christmas. She reviewed policy. Then reviewed it again.
Anything to keep her from thinking about what she’d say to Nick when she saw him again.
Chapter Three
“It’s human nature to gripe, but I’m going ahead
and doing the best I can.”
Elvis Presley
About time. The sun would be setting soon, and then gathering evidence would be more complicated.
An unmarked cruiser with flashing lights whipped behind Nick. The medical examiner’s van pulled up alongside the white TBI field truck, parking behind the cruiser. Three other vehicles turned onto the street and parked behind them. Nick closed the dossier on Tiddle and turned up his jacket collar, then stepped into the cool air.
The man who unfolded himself from behind the steering wheel of the cruiser spoke with two men in TBI vests and caps, then approached the scene with a determined step. The man had to stand an inch or two taller than Nick’s six one, but his build was more gangly than muscular. He narrowed his eyes at Nick. “You SAC Hagar?”
Nick nodded.
“Peter Helm. TBI. Crime Scene.” He turned and nodded at the truck where several people in blue pants rolled open doors. “Our best forensics team is here, per your request.”
“Thanks. This one could be dicey.” Nick nodded at Cullen McMichael as the Shelby County medical examiner passed, his investigator in tow. “Possible political connection, so we need to take every possible precaution.”
“We normally do.” Helm’s tone left no question of his resentment.
Nick understood—he wouldn’t like someone to go over his head on a case before he even got to the crime scene, but in this particular situation, time was of the essence. No mistakes could be afforded. Not a single one. He’d already taken a call from the deputy director. The senator hadn’t waited long to call in favors. A powerful man could be just as dangerous as a criminal.
Doors slammed as the five-man team headed their way. Make that five-person team—two were definitely women. First one stood about five six, had a pair of long legs, and shoulder-length blond hair hanging out from under the blue cap. Carrying a case, she let one of the men on the team hold her elbow as they made their approach. The way she moved, how she carried herself—Nick could feel the confidence oozing from her. This woman was sure of her abilities and her appearance. His mouth automatically went dry. She reminded him so much of Joy.
Two news vans skidded to a stop behind the TBI field truck. Great. The vultures had arrived. Nick motioned to Officer Layton. “Get your men to keep the reporters at the street. None of them are to get past my car, understood?”
The uniform nodded and sprinted, cutting off the cameraman heading toward them.
Nick turned back to Helm and nodded toward Gina’s car. “Door was left open, so it’s possible you’ll find prints there.”
“My team is the best. If there are prints there, we’ll find them.” Helm motioned for the team to join them.
Helm introduced the two men who reached them first. “This is Kurt Jackson and Neal Olson, our forensic technicians.”
Nick nodded at the two men who closely resembled a pair of black-and-tan Doberman pinschers. Both had little eyes, lithe builds, and looked to be at attention the entire time.
Helm continued as the others joined them. “This is Ivan Goins, the best latent specialist in the state.” At least Goins stood with a bit of girth with his almost six-foot frame. But the shockingly bleached ends of his long, black hair sticking out from under the navy cap made Nick raise his brows. How many tattoos did the guy have? And he didn’t even want to start counting the visible piercings.
