Somewhat of a mentor to Brandon, he met Bernie, years ago, at a church they both attended. Five years ago, when Brandon needed a sudden change in his life, Bernie suggested the Fugitive Recovery Team instead of working court detail, of which Bernie had some fifteen years in. After Brandon earned the right to have his own team, he requested Bernie to join him.
Stocky, close to fifty with silver streaks in his hair, Bernie came around the table and slapped him on the shoulder. “You were grinning.”
“What are you talking about?” He shrugged his friend’s hand away. Brandon refocused his eyes on the map. He knew exactly what Bernie meant. When Bernie didn’t answer, Brandon glanced up.
Bernie’s eyes were full of amusement; his lips fought a grin. “This Agent Weston must be a real looker.”
Brandon’s eyes narrowed. Bernie’s habit of pointing out the obvious would make the coming days long and tiresome, especially if Brandon couldn’t keep his face from reacting to Maggie.
“You were just talking to her, right?” he asked a bit too innocently, with an exaggerated drawl.
“Yeah, so?” Brandon let out a short breath of frustration and forced his gaze to the map. He needed to keep his cool, especially around Bernie, who could sniff out the deepest secrets. Bernie didn’t often mention women to Brandon, knowing the rule, and they hadn’t had an occasion to argue about it in quite some time. Brandon wished someone would rush over with a phone call about something important — or not, right now it didn’t matter — just anything to halt the course of the discussion. He heard Bernie’s soft chuckle. Brandon clenched his fist.
“I haven’t seen your face this lit up since Emily,” Bernie said half hopeful, half worried.
“Bernie.” He voiced a warning. He calmly unclenched his hand to feel the crisp paper underneath. Brandon slowly moved his hands across the map. The concentrated movement calmed him. Their conversations had revolved less and less around Emily. Nothing new could be said. Instead, both adhered to an unspoken agreement not to discuss women at all. Yet, Bernie’s persistence knew no limitations.
“The entire time you were on the phone, you had a light in your eyes, Brandon. There’s no mistaking it.”
“You are mistaken,” Brandon spat through thick teeth.
He heard Bernie sigh. Brandon knew that sigh. Bernie had switched into mentor mode. A speech or a Bible verse would come out of his mouth next. He’d heard all of them before, and didn’t want to hear any of them now. Bernie’s strong hand squeezed his shoulder. “Buddy, it’s been five years since Emily.”
Brandon jerked his shoulder away and took a step back. His quick reaction to her name startled him, but he didn’t stop to wonder what it meant. He held up a finger. “We are not discussing Emily.”
His friend’s eyes registered shock at Brandon’s response. Bernie held up two hands in defense. “Relax, I don’t mean to stir up old memories.” His eyes were languid. Bernie never retreated this easily. “It was just nice, for once, to see you respond to a woman the way you did just now.” Bernie stepped away. “I’ve got to go check in with the search teams.” He put both hands together in front. “Forgive me. I’ll talk to you later.” And he was gone.
Brandon’s heart pounded against his ribcage to the point of pain. Bernie was only teasing. The lightning speed of Brandon’s temper unnerved him. Perhaps a few years ago he would’ve bitten Bernie’s head off, but lately his temper had cooled, or so he thought. Brandon unwillingly allowed his friend’s words to sink in. Did he smile? Was there a light in his eyes? Emily’s image flashed in his mind. Her soft blonde curls and deep green eyes. The way her full lips curved into the mischievous grin he knew so well. His ears filled with her laughter, and his cheek burned in streaks at the memory of her fingertips gliding over his skin.
Brandon’s jaw tightened. He willed steel clamps to constrict around his heart. He foolishly allowed Emily’s memory to snake in, even if only for a moment. The strain it caused would last longer than the pleasure of reminiscing. The ease of her impression resurfacing angered him. He had spent considerable time burying every smile, every look, every kiss from his mind and his heart. His ire kindled hot toward Bernie. Why would he mention Emily? What was his friend thinking?
Brandon eyed the county grid blocks on the topographic map. A skilled serial killer was on the loose and according to the map, the county had plenty of wooded areas and low-lying country that would afford Burrows ample places to hide. He needed his mind in the game and on Burrows. Brandon squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had stared at the same block for the last five minutes.
Maggie.
She didn’t make a difference either. Forget his first reaction to her. Forget how his body unconsciously responded to her. Whatever Bernie thought he saw, Brandon decided he’d never see it again. There is nothing. There was nothing. I don’t feel anything. It was a good mantra and it served him well the last five years…and it wouldn’t fail him in the days to come.
Chapter Four
Late morning the following day, Maggie’s mouth twisted downward as she drove past the Culpeper County exit sign on Route 29. She last spoke to Brandon the night before and since then her phone hadn’t buzzed with texts of fresh updates. It wasn’t a good sign, but it wasn’t necessarily bad either. In the little more than twenty-four hours Burrows had been on the run, the county sheriff’s department reported zero missing persons.
But that could change.
The farther west one headed in Virginia, the more rural and rugged the landscape. Culpeper was not exactly a booming metropolis. Blue Ridge Mountains bordered the southeastern portion of the county. The peaks offered hikers — or a serial killer — a virtually undetectable avenue of escape. He had ample opportunity to evade law enforcement. Would he risk staying in Culpeper?
While stopped at the traffic light of Main and Davis, Maggie sent a quick text message to Brandon to tell him she had arrived. At the next light, only a couple blocks away, she read his response. He would wait for her arrival in the foyer of the hotel. Maggie let out a slow, nervous breath as she surveyed the town she had come to know well only a few years before.
Like many cities in Virginia, Culpeper teemed with rich history. Although the picturesque county was of geographic importance during the Civil War — close to railroad junctions and major roadways — it still maintained its small-town quality. Home to country roads, quaint downtown shops, and the majestic Blue Ridge Mountains, Culpeper held a captivating rural beauty.
Everything looks the same. The downtown area, originally surveyed by a teenage George Washington, was patterned in a simple grid fashion with the typical Main, East, and West streets. Some of the buildings, although renovated with time, could be traced back to the early 1900s. The courthouse looked akin to an old-fashioned church: brick with a cathedral ceiling and a concrete staircase that led up to the main structure. Dated signs with the names of businesses and restaurants hung from steel hooks. Both sides of the streets were lined with conjoined establishments, the width of each no more than a few paces. Each boasted a small-town quality that would make the most homesick person feel connected.
“Boy, this town hasn’t changed a bit.”
Maggie cast Doug a quick glance, and made a turn toward the historic hotel. “Yeah, it’s still as beautiful, and as unassuming as ever.”
“Didn’t we say we would get rooms at one of the bed and breakfasts next time we were in this town?”
A small smile tugged at her lips. “I believe we did make that promise.” After Burrows’s capture, however, Maggie hadn’t set foot in the county. Visiting Culpeper again often entered her mind, though. The mountainous landscape from the famed Skyline Drive was supposedly glorious at sunrise; the daybreak hues of pink and yellow mixed with the green in the forests created their bluish color. She always found an excuse not to finalize her plans for the trip, though. “I would love to see the sights.”
“So, our plan is to set up at the hotel?” Doug a
sked.
Maggie nodded. “Right. I imagine Marshal Worth has converted a conference room or another guest suite into the command center. We should have some space there to work.”
“Did you want us to interview the potential victims, or what?”
Maggie glanced in the rearview mirror at another agent on her team, Sara Deckker. New to the profiling unit, she came with an extensive background in white-collar crimes, but she was competent, and Maggie trusted her judgment. “How about you and Doug track down Burrows’s old acquaintances and neighbors? I’m going to see if I can’t arrange a private meeting with the potential targets all at once. It would cut down on the amount of time I’d have to spend searching for them, and it would be easier to answer everyone’s questions.”
“Let’s utilize the sheriff deputies for that. Their men should be tailing some of them right now,” Doug responded.
“As soon as we’re settled, I want to talk to Marshal Worth. Perhaps they’ve gotten a lead or two on Burrows. Then I’ll talk to the ladies.”
Doug raised his brown brows in surprise. “You don’t want to do it as soon as we get there?”
“Well, I want to try to minimize any disruptions to their lives. They need to go on as—” Maggie stopped. She couldn’t complete the sentence.
“If you say ‘go on as if nothing ever happened…’” Sara said, her voice heavy with sarcasm.
In the rearview mirror, Deckker arched a perfectly shaped blonde brow and her heart-shaped lips twisted into a rueful grin. Maggie smirked. With Burrows on the run, nothing would be normal again until his capture. They couldn’t go on as if nothing happened because something very, very serious was happening: Burrows was somewhere, watching, waiting, and planning his next move.
“Deckker, unfortunately I wasn’t able to get enough rooms, so you and I will have to bunk together.” Doug looked over his shoulder and flashed her a toothy smile.
Maggie pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.
Deckker leaned forward, her emerald green eyes razor sharp. “Oh, really? Because I double-checked with the front desk before we left and a room opened up just this morning.”
His smile waned. Doug crossed his arms and shifted his gaze away to stare out of his window. Sara sat back, her shrill laugh thick with satisfaction.
Maggie, Doug, and Sara checked in to their rooms a few minutes later. On her way to the elevator, Maggie spotted a plainclothes officer enter a conference room — command and control. Maggie didn’t bother to unpack. Brandon hadn’t been downstairs waiting for them, so something must have happened. She checked her cell to see whether he sent her a text. Nothing. Maggie gathered her file on Burrows and turned to the door to head back downstairs. A heavy knock at the door stopped her in her tracks. She tensed. One hand instinctively touched the butt of her 9mm Sig Sauer beneath her suit jacket. She moved quietly toward the door. One look inside the peephole brought a sigh of relief. Relax, Maggie. You’re in a hotel. Nothing can happen here. She opened the door.
“Sorry I wasn’t at the front desk to greet you…” His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. “You alright?” Brandon stepped forward; one hand cupped her elbow. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, I’m fine.” Maggie forced a smile and stepped back out of reach from his grip. She needed to stop being so paranoid. The last time she was here, she had beaten Burrows at his own game. A rematch shouldn’t be a problem. Brandon gave her a look of disbelief. The warmth from his fingers still permeated her jacket to tingle the skin beneath her shirt. “You were saying?” Maggie hurried.
“I got caught up in a call with Sheriff Macintosh.”
“Oh.”
“He should be waiting for us downstairs in command and control.”
Maggie nodded and pulled her room door shut. Once inside the elevator, Brandon pushed L for lobby and the cart jerked into a descent.
“Do you know the sheriff?” Brandon broke the silence.
“Yes. He was more than helpful during the last investigation. He’ll want to do everything he can to aid us in catching Burrows, without causing any unnecessary interference.”
“I gathered as much from our phone conversation.”
Maggie felt Brandon’s eyes on her. She avoided his gaze.
“This place doesn’t bring back good memories, huh?” he asked quietly.
Maggie shivered. “Burrows was my first real profiling case. It tested me, but now with the file out of the safe again, I feel as if I never really signed the final report.” Maggie blew a few strands of hair off her forehead. She watched as Brandon slowly came around to face her.
“It’s just a rematch. You’ve beaten him before,” he said softly.
Maggie’s eyes widened as she searched his. Was he reading her thoughts? For a moment, Maggie didn’t think of Burrows. Her thoughts whirled on the man before her. Were they having a moment? Maggie tried to ignore it, but something stirred deep within her, ever since she first laid eyes on the ruggedly handsome marshal.
Maggie lowered her gaze to break the intensity. She lacked experience with men, and chose not to trust her own judgment when it came to Brandon. Nothing is happening here. You are just a little overwhelmed by how handsome he is, and all he is thinking of is the case. Focus! She glanced up to see his light eyes still assessed her, his warm hand back on her arm. Easier said than done.
The elevator chimed, signaling the doors were about to open. Brandon gave her arm a gentle squeeze, and extended his arm for her to exit first.
“We are set up in conference room three,” Brandon offered as they walked down the hall. Maggie was grateful the room was out of general public view. The agents could come and go as they pleased without arousing attention. Upon entering, Maggie immediately recognized Sheriff Macintosh.
“Sheriff.” She grinned and extended a hand.
“It’s good to see you again, Maggie, although I wish it were under different circumstances,” Macintosh ended rather gloomily.
Maggie frowned. “I’m sorry you and the town have to go through this again, but at least this time we know who we’re looking for.”
“I have my men watching his residence now, although we’ve had no activity there.”
“It may be too risky for him to show his face at his home, but we can’t be too careful,” Brandon said.
Maggie nodded. “Agents Fairbanks and Deckker are interviewing Burrows’s friends and neighbors. I sent Marshal Worth a list of potential victims. I’m sure you recognized the names from last time. Hopefully, we’ll be able to glean some information on possible sightings.”
The sheriff nodded. “I did see that list yesterday, and I’ve had my men track down those still residing in Culpeper.”
“Some have moved?” The idea didn’t surprise Maggie, but if Burrows had their information…
“Yes, but only less than a handful. This morning, the post office gave us a copy of their forwarding addresses and all are out of state. One is in Florida, two moved to California, and one is overseas in Germany, I believe. We’ve put a call in to the nearest local police departments of each one and have passed information concerning Burrows.”
“So far, the Transportation Security Agency has had no sightings of Burrows at any of Virginia’s airports so we can assume he won’t be traveling to those places by air. At least not yet,” Brandon added.
The updates satisfied Maggie for now. Those who were out of state were reasonably safe from Burrows’s reach. She reviewed the list of potential victims who still resided in Culpeper both with the sheriff and Brandon in order of most to least likely targeted. Both Macintosh and Brandon reviewed personnel assignments and agreed the local police and sheriff deputies would send hourly updates directly to the command center.
“Do you mind if I tag along on some of your interviews?”
Maggie looked at Brandon. “Not at all. Besides, I need a vehicle since I left Fairbanks the keys to the one we traveled in.”
“I’ll drive. This will give me a chan
ce to personally check in with my men in the field and confirm all assigned teams to our potential vics.”
Maggie and Brandon thanked Sheriff Macintosh in unison and then proceeded out of the hotel. “I would like to stop by the Burrowses’ residence first if that is alright,” Maggie asked as they settled into Brandon’s SUV.
She felt his sideways glance. “Sure. I took a brief, self-guided tour yesterday but your eyes are more familiar with it. Perhaps you’ll see something that might help pinpoint his whereabouts.”
Maggie wasn’t too sure, but she kept her doubts to herself.
****
Maggie unlocked the door to the small one-story house located at the edge of Route 663. She paused before she opened the door. To her right hung steel chains attached to a wooden two-seated swing, which creaked whenever it moved. The house appeared unchanged except the chipped white paint on the railing of the enclosed front porch. Brandon stood behind her and held open the front screen.
“You want me to go first?”
Maggie tried not to shiver when her mind dredged scenes of terror being right behind the door. She suppressed her silly imagination; the danger was long removed. Instead, she righted her shoulders, and gave Brandon a smile. “No, of course not. I’ve been here many times.”
“That still doesn’t mean it gets any easier.”
No, it didn’t. She was well aware of that fact. Even after Burrows’s capture, she came back to the house time and time again to go over evidence, the crime scene, and his bedroom. Maggie wanted to know everything she could about the man who senselessly terrorized the women of Culpeper. “I’m fine.” She opened the door and stepped inside.
The living room sat just as she remembered, yet the property appeared maintained. Only a light layer of dust covered lamps and end tables, even though Burrows had not returned to his boyhood home for a few years. Sunlight poured in from the sheer curtained windows and revealed a cared-for carpet.
Maggie flipped a nearby switch anyway. Glass lamps illuminated the small room.
Serial Games (Virginia Justice Book One) Page 4
