“Here, let me help you.” He placed a large hand on the small of her back. Maggie secretly relished this type of contact. She slowed her pace to increase his touch. “Just don’t walk too fast,” he whispered in her ear. Maggie caught his twinkling gaze. Her mouth betrayed her and she smiled. He grinned back.
Maggie inhaled the scent of coffee as they walked down the long hall toward a small meeting room. The aroma of the freshly brewed grounds starkly contrasted the Burrows torture chamber. She could still smell the odorous stench on her clothes. She fingered her suit jacket. I’m going to have to burn this.
They entered the small room adorned with several rows of unfolded chairs. Men and women filled their cups with the steaming coffee, while others gathered around Sheriff Macintosh. He shot her a desperate look.
Maggie nodded as she comprehended the situation. She turned to Brandon and understanding passed between them. These women wanted answers. Answers neither the FBI nor the US Marshals had…yet. As the talk died down, Sally rushed toward her. Maggie extended her hand to grasp Sally’s and they exchanged greetings. Sheriff Macintosh called for the women and their significant others to take their seats. Maggie now took center stage.
For a moment, her gaze roamed over the women in the front. All of them, in one way or another, had the potential to be connected to Burrows. All had visited his photography studio and used his services, and each possessed physical characteristics strikingly similar to his mother. Maggie’s eyes lingered on Sally Mayes, who most resembled the late Maxine Burrows. Once a blonde, her hair was now dyed a dark auburn color, but what remained were the high cheekbones, straight nose and brows, with slightly full lips. Although Maggie desired to protect all the women, Sally remained her main and immediate focus. The mother of two small children had once escaped Burrows, and he might return to finish what he started.
Maggie met Brandon’s cool eyes. He stood legs apart, arms crossed over his built chest: the absolute picture of brute force and determination. Maggie took confidence from Brandon’s stance. Burrows’s chances of success diminished the longer she looked at Brandon. If she couldn’t uncover his next move, pinpoint where he would strike next, then Brandon would be the best option at catching the elusive killer.
Maggie introduced Brandon to the women and informed them of the reason for the meeting. Eyes grew wide at the mention of Burrows being in town, followed by gasps at the revelation one of them could be his next target.
An onslaught of questions began. What were the US Marshals doing to recover Burrows? Who exactly would be his first target? Where was he? Would they be provided protection? How did he escape?
Maggie kept her responses vague and Brandon jumped in to answer the questions regarding Burrows’s whereabouts and recovery. Maggie slipped to the back of the room as most of the questions were directed at Brandon, whom she considered as he spoke. His manner was precise and professional while he addressed the crowd. But earlier…
Maggie recalled their visit to the Burrowses’ residence. She hadn’t expected to find anything of use there. An eerie feeling had stolen over her as she walked through the house. The sensation had shaken her to her core. Maggie trembled as she thought of it now, but it was Brandon’s reaction to her that left her wondering. Not only did he take the time to wait for her to compose herself, he had encouraged her to confront the emotions she tried to suppress. Maggie remembered how he stared into her eyes, how his gaze penetrated deep into her soul. His ability to read her both fascinated and frightened her.
Who was this man? How could he evoke such a reaction from her? Twice today she’d been vulnerable with him and allowed her emotions to take over where guarded professionalism should’ve ruled. Brandon removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to reveal muscled forearms as his hands worked to create mental images for the crowd.
Those arms had just been around her body.
Maggie’s eyes narrowed on Brandon. Underneath his shirt lay a cross. She had noticed it earlier around his neck during their drive in DC, and recently he was clutching it at the Burrowses’ home. Did he have faith or was it simply a charm he often reached for when situations became too emotional? What is he thinking? Remembering the inflection of his voice and the slight edge of sarcasm, when he spoke earlier about the absence of God in people’s lives, Maggie suspected an underlying bitterness. What was the cause?
Maggie’s gaze caught Brandon’s eyes and raised brows. Did he think she was studying him? Maggie raised her own in response. “I have nothing more to add,” she said.
The sheriff took control of the meeting. Her eyes held Brandon’s as he walked toward her. Maggie suppressed the shiver that traveled up her spine as she focused on his deliberate gait in her direction. As he walked, he owned the room and everything in it…including her.
“You seemed a little distracted earlier,” he whispered as he stood beside her.
Maggie swallowed. Yes, she was distracted, and he was the one who distracted her.
“Anything I should know about?”
I bet you already know how handsome you look. Maggie turned her head to meet his eyes. “Nope.” His eyes narrowed in response. Did he read through her cover? Maggie quickly turned her gaze to the sheriff. Brandon’s ability to probe unnerved her. Her attention turned to a slight buzzing noise. Brandon pulled his cell from his back pocket and looked at the screen.
“A few of my men want to meet up. Want to grab a quick bite, then head back to the hotel?”
Maggie nodded, disappointed. She hoped the text revealed a break in the search. They still raced against time. “Just let me speak with Sally for a moment. I want to meet up with her later.”
“Sure.”
After Maggie and Sally confirmed a time for their meeting later that evening, Maggie and Brandon drove to the Stable, a local sandwich shop. Brandon held the door for her and she walked through. A few people sat at the bar and chatted with the bartender and in the corner, a familiar jukebox played an old country tune.
“What’s good here?” Brandon asked as they walked to the cash register near the bar to order.
“Their beef brisket sandwiches are the best.”
“Mmm, that sounds good.”
“I’ll get us a table.” Maggie found a table in a quiet corner in the back of the darkened restaurant while Brandon ordered. She closed her cell when Brandon placed two trays on the table. Even the tempting smell of her barbeque brisket sandwich didn’t do much to lighten her mood.
“Wanna talk about it?” Brandon sat across from her. He placed his elbows on the table, leaned in, and waited for her to respond. Maggie looked up, her eyes locking with his. He raised his brows.
“That was my supervisor. He wanted an update on Burrows. I had to tell him we had nothing so far.”
“The first forty-eight hours are crucial when a fugitive is on the run. Many are caught within that time period. But we’re not dealing with your average criminal.” He picked up his sandwich, eyed the meat, and then took a huge bite. Maggie watched him chew, his strong jaw working the food. His eyes held hers and he smiled. “This is a great sandwich.”
Maggie picked hers up. “I know. This restaurant got a lot of business the last time we were here.”
“So…did your boss have an issue?”
Maggie took a bite of her sandwich and avoided the question.
“I mean, you have that look on your face.”
Her brows bunched. “What do you mean that look?”
Brandon wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You know — when something is overwhelming you.”
Maggie swallowed a lump of well-sauced meat, but it might as well have been a dry rock. “Um, no offense, Marshal, but I don’t think you know me that well.”
He took another bite. His eyes held hers. He took his time chewing and all the while, Maggie was anxious for his response. He swallowed his bite and then took a sip of soda. “You don’t have to be a profiler to read people well.”
True.
�
�Part of my job in tracking and recovering is knowing my subject,” he continued.
“Oh, so I’m a subject?” Maggie took a small bite. Her stomach tied into uncomfortable knots. Not only was this man gorgeous, and sensitive, but also perceptive. She could fall too easily for him, not knowing where he stood on the important issues, and that wasn’t a good thing.
“Well, if you were, you’d be the most beautiful one I’ve ever had.”
Maggie’s eyes cut up to see his smile. He wasn’t teasing. Heat rose slowly from her neck and pooled into her cheeks.
“Come on, tell me I’m wrong. What did your boss say?”
This time Maggie took a long sip of her soda. “No, you’re not wrong. My boss was just stressing to me the importance of catching this guy.”
“Is your career on the line or something?”
“Perceptive” wasn’t a strong enough word. He had a sixth sense.
She avoided his gaze. Maggie’s eyes followed the droplet of condensation as it traveled the length of her glass. “I really haven’t had a challenge since the Burrows case. So, I kind of feel as if…”
“It was a fluke.”
Maggie nodded.
“Why do you doubt yourself?”
“I’ve always been a bit competitive.”
Brandon leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes narrowed. Maggie twisted the napkin in her lap. “So, let me do a little profile workup on you. You’re the baby of the family, hence your competitiveness. You always have something to prove, even though your talent speaks for itself and no one doubts your abilities.” He paused as a malicious glint shone in his eyes. “And I’d say your sister is your biggest competition.”
“You done?” Maggie’s chair made a heavy sound against the wooden floor as she scooted back. He was on his feet in a second and blocked her way.
“Maggie, I’m sorry. If I offended you, I apologize.”
The regretful look in his eye caused her shoulders to slump slightly. She opened her mouth to apologize for being too sensitive but someone called Brandon’s name. He turned to the bar where a server placed a large bag on the counter. “Those are the sandwiches I ordered for the others back at the hotel.” He went to the counter to retrieve the order.
After he paid for a dozen or more sandwiches, they proceeded back to the hotel, in silence. What had just happened? Why did Brandon’s assessment unsettle her? Because he was right? No. It scared her how he was able to read her. Wasn’t she the profiler?
As they entered the conference room-turned command center, an older, husky marshal, with a heavy mustache, approached them. “Ah, you must be the lovely Agent Weston.”
Maggie’s cheeks flushed. “Yes, I’m Maggie Weston.” She took his hand. Had she been described as lovely?
“Yeah, um, this is Marshal Bernie Erin,” Brandon said dryly.
Maggie caught a mischievous glimmer in Bernie’s eyes as they looked to Brandon, who stood behind her. She resisted the urge to turn around, although she was eager to understand the look between them. Instead, she behaved as if she hadn’t noticed Bernie’s all too obvious approval.
“What do you have for me, Bernie?” Brandon walked forward quickly, not giving Maggie a chance to observe his profile. His voice held a slight warning: a clear desire to get down to business.
“We have an unconfirmed sighting down by Kelly’s Ford.”
“That’s right off Route 672,” Maggie breathed, excited over the news.
Brandon set the sandwiches on a nearby table while Bernie walked toward the wall where area maps were hung. Maggie followed, careful not to get in the way. The room bustled with activity. Hotline phones rang and were answered, and notes were passed and transcribed on dry erase boards. Maggie overheard one marshal in a conversation on the phone, confirming Brandon’s meeting tomorrow at ten in the morning. Brandon placed a bulky handheld radio transmitter into an empty charging case, and then joined Bernie in front of the map. Brandon stood with hands on his hips as Bernie pointed out a location to him.
****
Maggie’s floral scent drifted to Brandon’s nostrils and his body reacted to her close presence. She walked up beside them, her eyes fixed on the location Bernie indicated earlier. For a moment, his mind lingered on her pleasant scent. His eyes drifted to her full mouth, the bottom lip unfortunately pinned by a couple of front teeth.
“What are the particulars?” she asked.
Bernie answered. “The man wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a young man, in dark pants and a dark jacket, cut across his field. He was out working on the harvest when his dog’s bark alerted him.”
Brandon scowled. He was so focused on Maggie’s voice he barely heard a word Bernie had said.
“He’s ditched his jumpsuit. And that farm is on the outskirts, in the opposite direction of the Burrowses’ residence,” Maggie offered.
“Could he be attempting to make his way back to his house?” Brandon interjected, willing his mind to focus on the task at hand.
Maggie bit her beautiful lip again. “You always return to the scene of a crime, but for Burrows, I wouldn’t think so. The risk of capture is too great.” Her voice trailed, and Brandon knew her mind went a mile a minute to try to determine any and all of Burrows’s possible future moves.
“I have the delta team out there right now examining the area. Let’s hope the dogs can pick up a scent,” Bernie offered.
Brandon shuffled a few papers on the table before he eyed the call sign roster. He snatched it up and scanned the list, confirming the delta team lead. “Okay, Bernie, I want you to go get some rest and take over for me at about midnight.”
Bernie faced Brandon, his thumbs hooked into his belt loops. “You sure?”
Brandon nodded. “I’ve got this shift. You can have the next one.” He wanted to be the first one called if the dogs did manage to sniff out Burrows.
“You’re the boss.” He turned and grinned at Maggie before he said goodbye. The paper in Brandon’s hand crumpled in his grip. Was Bernie deliberately trying to clue Maggie in?
Wait a minute. Clue her in on what? I don’t have feelings for her. Before he could even react to his internal declaration, a colleague interrupted his thoughts and confirmed his meeting with the mayor tomorrow morning.
His mind instantly returned to Maggie and when he turned, he nearly collided with her.
Maggie gave him a small smile, but her eyes danced with laughter. He remembered how she tripped at the Town Hall. He also remembered the feel of her when he held her…how her hands gripped his arms, the feel of her figure against him.
“I just spoke with Agent Deckker and there’s a lead concerning Burrows’s neighbor I want to follow up on,” she said.
Brandon glanced over to the door at the skinny agent with blonde hair held tight in a ponytail. She stared openly at him. He returned his gaze to Maggie. “Anything we need to know about?”
“Concerning his whereabouts? I’m not sure yet, but I’ll keep you informed.”
Brandon nodded. It was late in the afternoon, and they still had a few hours of prime investigative time before businesses closed for the evening and people retired to their homes. He couldn’t deny the unmistakable urge to spend it with her. “How long do you think you’ll be? You feel up for doing a little surveillance later this evening?”
Her eyes brightened, whether over spending time with him or the surveillance he wasn’t sure. Do I even care what she thinks of me?
“Absolutely. I don’t get to go out and conduct surveillance after being assigned to the profiling unit. Usually we have another group do that job.”
“Well, you get to use those perishable skills of yours now.”
“After this interview, I have a quick meeting with Sally. I’ll call you when I’m finished.” She grinned at him and then followed Deckker out the door. He watched her leave and wondered at the sudden weight on his heart.
Chapter Six
Maggie flipped through Agent
Deckker’s notes, her eyes keen on the information concerning Mr. Abram Collins. “So, this Abram Collins has essentially been the caretaker of the Burrows’s property.” That would explain why the electricity remained on in the house.
Agent Deckker nodded. “We’d have to confirm with Burrows’s attorney but according to the other neighbors Doug and I spoke to, since Burrows’s incarceration, neighbors have witnessed Mr. Collins on the Burrows land, checking the doors, trimming the hedges, mowing the lawn…”
Maggie wrinkled her brow. “Is he getting paid for this upkeep?” Maggie couldn’t recall whether or not the city controlled the Burrows property. Since time stood still at the home, it shouldn’t surprise her if Burrows or his attorney had since established a stewardship.
“I’m not sure. I’d assume yes. Although why anyone would bother is beyond me. I mean, does Burrows actually plan on returning home?” She snorted. “The guy is getting the chair. Did you see inside Burrows’s house yet?”
Maggie stared straight out the window. She had. The Burrows property was on the rural outskirts of the main part of the county. A small house at the end of a lane, with a tiny fenced-in backyard leading into thick woods, an ideal location for a private person such as Burrows. The house couldn’t be seen from the start of the lane, and the woods offered ample cover for anyone traveling around the city.
Maggie remembered the short, white picket fence enclosing the front lawn, the covered porch, and beneath it the wooden swing built to seat two. It possessed undeniable charm, if not for the evil that had existed there.
“Mr. Collins lives a few houses before you get to Burrows’s.” Deckker was still speaking. “I would kill to see inside that house.”
Maggie cut her a look at her choice of words.
“Doug was telling me earlier about the torture basement. Is it true? And no bodies? Not one in the ten years he committed the murders? Wow. It’s a good thing Sally Mayes survived her ordeal, or we would never know if he was just kidnapping, or what.”
Serial Games (Virginia Justice Book One) Page 6
