The Boy

by Linsey Lanier

  “Yeah.” She rubbed her arms and stubbornly fought back another urge to barf.

  She glanced over at Holloway, who was standing near the body. He looked as green as the trees.

  “One of my long ago ancestors was a member of the Georgia General Assembly when they voted to build this line,” Parker murmured as if he felt partly responsible. “It was supposed be to be the first link between Savannah and the Midwest. A big step forward at the time. This part of the line runs through Dalton all the way to Chattanooga. It was part of the Great Locomotive Chase during the Civil War.”

  He was always a reservoir of knowledge.

  “Where’s the train?” she wanted to know. “And the conductor? I wonder what he says about running over a human being?”

  “It was the middle of the night. He wouldn’t have seen her. The locomotive itself had to be several hundred tons. His speed could have reached sixty or more. The conductor wouldn’t have felt a thing.”

  A two hundred ton engine barreling through the night at sixty miles an hour. The slender neck of a woman wouldn’t have been a blip. Life was that fragile.

  “So they think this was an accident?”

  “Someone walking along in the middle of the night who tripped on the tracks.”

  “A woman alone? A young woman? And just when a train was coming?”

  “She might have hit her head and knocked herself out.”

  Miranda nodded back to where Holloway stood. “The body is face up. How do you trip and end up like that?”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  She knew Parker wasn’t buying the accident theory. So what else could explain it? “Suicide?”

  “To come out here and lay your head on the tracks would take an immeasurable amount of courage.”

  “Or despair.” She’d been that low once upon a time.

  But what about that strange phone call? It wasn’t from an ordinary bystander who’d just happened along. Nothing here added up.

  Lieutenant Upson stepped to Parker’s side. “Pretty gruesome way to die.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Is there any ID?” Miranda asked. “A purse? A wallet?”

  Upson shook his head. “Nothing but a wedding band. We’ll let the M.E. in Cobb County take care of that. We’ll see if her prints or DNA are in the system once we finish here.”

  They were on it. No need for the Parker Agency lab. Other than wait for those results, there was little they could do to help right now. What did their mysterious anonymous caller expect of them?

  As if searching for answers she stared toward the intersection where the first officer they’d encountered was directing traffic. The sun was up now and a few resolute Saturday morning shoppers were out early.

  Suddenly a dark van pulled up to the side of the road and sent a chill down her spine.

  Chapter Four

  A man Miranda had never seen before got out of the van and started down the tracks toward the crime scene.

  The officer guarding the intersection tried to stop him, but he flashed some credentials and waved him away. Face flushed he hurried toward the body, but Upson held up a hand and stopped him a few yards from the scene.

  “Hold on there, sir. This is an official police investigation.”

  “My name is Agent Simon Sloan,” he shouted over Upson’s shoulder to everyone else. “By the authority of the Georgia Bureau of Investigation I order you to cease and desist this operation and turn it over to my people.”

  His voice was smooth and polished, like a radio announcer’s.

  Three other men, also in dark suits, had emerged from the van and followed him to the scene. His people, Miranda supposed.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Upson said. “There must be a mix-up. I didn’t call in the GBI.”

  “Your Division Commander did.”

  “Captain Walker? I wasn’t informed of that.”

  “You should have been.”

  With Parker beside her Miranda rushed over to lend whatever aid they could. “What’s the problem here?”

  Upson’s face was riddled with suspicion. “This gentleman claims to be from the GBI.”

  Without introducing himself Agent Simon Sloan, or whoever he was, took a look at her and Parker with a pair of sharp dark eyes. She could tell from the expression in them he recognized them instantly.

  And didn’t care for them being there.

  He was half a head shorter than Parker with a thin, wiry physique. This guy and Holloway could compare waistlines. But he was good looking. Very good looking. As in, male-lead-in-the-latest-chick-flick good looking.

  Sleek black hair, nicely styled. Chiseled features. An attractive dent in his chin. He wore a dark gray end-of-summer suit that was nice but certainly didn’t come from one of Parker’s expensive tailors. Suddenly Miranda felt underdressed. They should have worn business clothes but she hadn’t known they were going to have to pull rank.

  “If you don’t mind,” Parker said, a quiet threat in his tone. “I’d like to confirm your credentials with Inspector Francine Whitman.”

  “Inspector Whitman?”

  “She’s a friend of the Parker Agency. We’ve worked together on several occasions.”

  Good thinking. Miranda had come to admire the petite, stocky woman from the GBI with whom she'd examined a few murder scenes.

  Sloan put his hands in his pockets and stared down at the ground in frustration. “I’m sorry to inform you Inspector Whitman has retired from the GBI.”

  “Really? I had no word of that.”

  “It wasn’t well known. She was a good worker. We all wished her the best.” Sloan made it sound as if she left under dubious circumstances.

  While they’d been discussing the dilemma, the three GBI goons—if they really were from the GBI—had gathered behind Sloan. They were tall and looked like they’d spent long afternoons in the gym for years. Probably had .45s under their black coats and looked like they wouldn’t mind taking what Sloan wanted by force.

  That would be a great news story. GBI and Kennesaw Police Tussle Over Dead Body on the Tracks.

  Upson let out a policeman like grunt. “If you don’t mind, Agent, I’ll call the Division Commander myself and confirm your claim.”

  “Call my commander instead. Let me give you the number.”

  “You call him and I’ll talk to him. Meanwhile, I’m calling Walker.”

  This wasn’t going to end well.

  While the two men dialed Miranda turned around and squinted at Holloway. He returned her look with the hint of a nod.

  He knew what she meant.

  As he squatted down near the body, she turned back to the GBI man, who was holding his ringing phone to his ear.

  “I’m not sure of your jurisdiction, Mr. Sloan, but we have a client we’re working for.” As she spoke she casually strolled along the gravel, forcing the agent and his three minions to pivot toward her.

  She risked a glance at Parker and could see he understood exactly what she was doing.

  “Who is your client, Ms. Steele?” Sloan sneered. Apparently no one was answering his call.

  “I’m not at liberty to divulge that information.” She raised her hands in acquiescence. “But we’d be happy to work with you on this case. And I’m sure you’ll want the resources of the Kennesaw police.”

  Sloan gave her a smirk. “My department has its own resources. I’m sorry I’m not at liberty to tell you anything further. But you’ll all have to vacate the premises now or my men will have to remove you physically.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Upson sounded like he wanted to punch something. Preferably Sloan. “Walker just confirmed the request.”

  Miranda peered over the assortment of muscled shoulders and saw Holloway was on his feet. She gave her head the smallest nod she could muster.

  Parker let out sigh. “Well, Lieutenant, at this point it seems we have no choice but to comply.”

  “Seems you’re right,” Upson grumbled. “But
I’m having a word with the Commander and we’ll be back soon.” He gestured for his officers to move out.

  As Sloan and his three men in black began to gather up the evidence and got ready to remove the body, Miranda made her way back to the Mazda with Parker and Holloway.

  They got inside and drove away.

  She waited until they’d rounded the far curve and were cruising through the residential section before she turned to Holloway in the back seat.

  “What did you get?”

  There was a twinkle in his light green eyes as he nodded. “Half a fingernail and a wedding ring.”

  “You got her wedding ring?”

  “Sure did.”

  “Great job, Holloway.”

  “Excellent work, Detective,” Parker echoed.

  Drinking in the praise, Holloway pushed the hair out of his eyes and grinned to himself. He kept on grinning all the way back to the office.

  Chapter Five

  When Miranda strolled into the cube area of the Parker Agency lab, she caught Becker about to launch into a huge cheese Danish.

  “That one of Fanuzzi’s wares?”

  Becker jumped at the sound of her voice, then let out a breath of relief when he saw it was her. “Naw. She’s sleeping in. I grabbed this from Bertolli’s on the way in.”

  The pastry shop they used to frequent when they were IITs. Miranda perched on the edge of his desk. “No problem. Sorry to mess up your family plans.”

  “It’s okay. Joanie wanted the chance to rest. She’s got a big party coming up tomorrow.”

  It was still hard to believe the woman Miranda used to pave roads with was now catering upscale parties in Buckhead.

  They both must have been sleeping in. Becker looked a little ragged. Unshaven and in a raggedy pair of jeans and a lime green shirt that read, “Best Dad Ever,” he looked more domesticated than ever. But the sight of the fingertip missing from his hand reminded her he could be tough when he needed to be. As well as how much he and Fanuzzi meant to her.

  “Since you said a bunch of us were coming, I brought some for everybody.” Becker waved a hand toward the corner.

  Sure enough along the counter that was usually piled with computer parts and electronic gadgets sat a big white bag. Next to it pastries and bagels were piled on a paper plate. Cream cheese and more plates and napkins sat beside it. The catering urge must be spreading.

  Becker grinned at her, his Danish poised near his mouth.

  “Go ahead,” she told him. “I’ll get something later.”

  She and Parker hadn’t stopped to eat that morning but her stomach wasn’t up to food yet after their visit to the train tracks.

  “Thanks, Steele.”

  Becker took a big bite and reached for the mug on his desk to wash it down. The smell of his flavored coffee had Miranda wrinkling her nose. To her mind, if coffee didn't take off some of your stomach lining, it wasn’t worth drinking.

  And coffee she could get down. In fact she was longing for a cup, but first things first.

  “Where’s Wesson?”

  She’d called in the rest of her new team on the way back to the office.

  Becker swallowed, wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “In the Ladies’ room doing her makeup.”

  She must have had a busy night. Miranda knew she’d been dating a guy she’d met at the Gecko Club for a while—after she’d run a background check on him. Which wasn’t such a bad idea for a guy you met in a night club.

  “And Fry?”

  John Fry wasn’t on their original list of team members, but when she’d contacted everyone, Miranda had realized she had to call him, too.

  Fry had been with the Parker Agency forever and had gone to school nights, worked his way up the ladder, and had become pretty handy at DNA analysis. Becker had become the go-to computer guy, but they’d need Fry to handle what Holloway had collected at the crime scene.

  “He’s in the back getting the equipment set up,” Becker said. “What have we got?”

  “Let’s wait until everyone’s here.”

  “I’m here,” Wesson’s sultry voice rang out. “Oh. Breakfast. Yay.”

  She stepped into the office wearing spiky heels and a short silky dress in a rust paisley that hugged every curve on her shapely body. Giving her thick, long red hair an extra pat, as if it needed it, she sauntered over to the desk with the pastries looking like she was ready to go dancing rather than work on a case.

  But that was Wesson.

  “I’m here, too.”

  Fry appeared in the door between the cube area and the lab proper with a big plastic coffee cup in his hand that had a sketch of an atom and read, “Analyze This.”

  Though a few years older, he looked almost like a carbon copy of Becker. Long scraggly hair, full-faced, half-inch long beard, rumpled clothes.

  Just then Parker strolled in with Holloway at his side. He’d let Miranda off at the door while he parked the car. Parker and Holloway looked like they were in formal wear next to the two geeks.

  “Good morning, sir,” Becker chirped.

  As Holloway spied the bagels and went to help himself, Parker greeted everyone then turned to her.

  “Miranda,” he said in his most sophisticated Southern gentleman tone. “Would you mind getting the Westbrook file for me? I believe I left it on my desk. We’ll get started once you get back.”

  She eyed him with suspicion, but shrugged anyway. “Sure.”

  Guessing what Parker was up to, she turned around and headed out the door.

  Parker watched Miranda’s tempting backside exit the room.

  As he waited a few beats, his mind flooded with the image of her on the gruesome crime scene that morning. Though she was visibly disturbed by the sight, her agile mind had put the clues together as quickly as he had. And she’d known exactly what to do when the obstinate Agent Sloan had shown up.

  Pride flooded his heart.

  He had discovered her, so to speak. Spotted her latent talent almost the instant he’d laid eyes on her almost a year and a half ago. He had given her this career, trained her. But he’d assumed it would be a slow process. A steady climb with an occasional challenging case from time to time. Instead, Miranda Steele had charged ahead and grown by leaps and bounds before his eyes.

  And on her last case, she had sacrificed her own life, her own mental health, her own soul to save the dearest person on earth to him, excepting her. His daughter, Gen.

  He would never forget that.

  She had gone out in search of more than he could offer professionally. He was bound and determined to prove to her she could have all she wanted right here with him, in the Agency he had built from the ground up.

  He cleared his throat. “Gather round, everyone. I have an announcement to make.”

  They all turned to him, a mixture of emotion in their eyes. He’d make this quick.

  “Shouldn’t we wait for Steele, sir?” Becker asked.

  “This concerns Ms. Steele.”

  “What’s she done now?” Fry muttered from the corner.

  Parker narrowed his eyes at his technician and watched his face flush crimson.

  “As you know over the past summer Ms. Steele and I formed a special arm of the Agency.”

  “Parker and Steele Consulting,” Becker offered.

  “Exactly.”

  Janelle Wesson leaned against the counter with an uneasy posture. “That was before she left the Agency.”

  “Yes,” he ignored the implications of the remark.

  Everyone at the Agency was aware Miranda had left. Except for Fry the people in this room had been there to witness her bravery. But there had always been a rivalry between Miranda and Wesson.

  “Now that she’s back, I’ve decided to expand the operation to include all of you.”

  “Us?” They said almost in unison, eyes round and staring.

  “Yes. You all have a variety of talents you’ve demonstrated in the past and I know from experience you work well
together.”

  They continued to stare.

  “I’m inviting all of you to join this team. It will include a substantial raise and a bonus. Hazard pay, if you will. There could be some dangerous assignments.”

  With Miranda there would always be risk and danger. She attracted it the way a stray dog drew fleas.

  Swallowing a bite of the breakfast fare Dave had brought, Holloway cleared his throat. “Do we have time to think about the offer?”

  Parker was surprised at Holloway’s question. But perhaps he had guessed what was coming next.

  “Of course. We’ll need your help on the current case but you may have a week after it’s closed to decide whether you want the move to be permanent.”

  “A lot to think about,” Holloway muttered.

  “Feel free to ask any questions or discuss the matter with me in private any time. You know my door is always open.”

  All of them nodded pensively.

  Wesson raised her hand. “I have a question, Mr. Parker.”

  “Yes, Detective Wesson.”

  “Who’s going to be in charge of this new team? Both you and Ms. Steele?”

  And now was the time to tell them. “Ms. Steele will be in charge. All of you will report to her. She in turn will report to me. I will serve in a supervisory capacity.”

  Chapter Six

  Miranda had to hunt for the manila folder before she located it. It wasn’t on Parker’s desk as he’d said. Or on his credenza. It was stuck in the second drawer of his desk where it would take her some time to find.

  All the more reason to be suspicious.

  Had he gotten her out of the room to do what she thought he was doing? She hoped not. She’d intended to talk him out of this venture before he spilled the beans to everyone. Okay. Maybe she was being too suspicious of him. She slipped a finger under the folder’s tab and took a peek.

  Westbrook file, huh? It was notifications of recent maintenance work in the office.

  Darn you, Parker.

  She hurried back down the hall and had the presence of mind to stop and listen before she went back into the lab.