Survivor Trilogy Box Set

by T. M. Smith

  Rory soaked it all in: the body of Mitchell Helms, the Tullor kid, the drowning, the locations all in or around Oregon and Washington. They needed a large whiteboard, maps of both states, and a lot more coffee. A run to the liquor store might not be a bad idea either—for after they set up a profile. Best to keep a clear mind while working the case. “Okay, let’s take a step back. Why are you certain that the unsub is male?”

  “The damage that was inflicted on the bodies that have been found doesn’t seem like something most women would be physically capable of doing. At least not alone.” She stood and walked over to the end of the table, stopping beside him and flipping the picture of the Helms kid around, pulling his file out and opening it. “The autopsy report shows multiple broken bones and fractures that healed but weren’t set right, going back anywhere from two weeks to three years prior to his death. And the cause of death is listed as strangulation. In each case where a body has been found, the autopsy reports list the same things—broken bones, fractures, and death by strangulation, or their throat was slit.”

  Nodding, he leaned across the table, picking up the picture of a young man that looked to be about seventeen. He was smiling at the camera, blue eyes sparkling, blond hair messy on purpose. “Fuck, Connie. We need to call Quantico and see if we can get a few more agents on this. I think we may have wandered onto a serial killer’s playground.”

  Chapter Five

  Rand 2015

  Coffee in hand, Rand grabbed his jacket and keys, locking the door behind him before heading down to the parking garage. He was anxious to get to the office and go over his notes on the Langford case before his appointment with Agent Landers later that morning. The two had met the previous year when Rory Landers and his partner, Connie Gonzales, had contacted him about a missing persons case in Washington. A guy Rand had hooked up with a few times when he took the command in Oak Harbor, Washington had been reported missing back in 2007, and the FBI had linked his disappearance to a possible serial killer. Shocked didn’t even begin to describe Rand’s emotional state when he received that call. Getting a call from Agent Landers the previous night in relation to the Langford case was surprising as well, to say the least.

  “The files you requested are on your desk, Sergeant.” His secretary, Lucy, greeted Rand when he arrived at the office.

  “Thanks, Lucy. Do me a favor and hold my calls, please. I don’t want to be disturbed until Agent Landers arrives at ten.”

  Of course, the phone rang before he finished the sentence. “Sergeant Randall Davis’s office, how can I help you?” Lucy nodded, waving him off.

  As soon as he was seated, Rand turned on his computer, finding the Langford file so he could scroll through and print all the pertinent documents he’d saved. In the ten years since the crime occurred, the Internet and social media had exploded, and Rand was able to find a lot of information that either wasn’t obtainable back then, had been overlooked or, worst case scenario, had been ignored. Receiving a call from the FBI regarding a cold case he was working wasn’t out of the ordinary. But there were no notes in the case file stating Bureau involvement.

  In the weeks since he’d met with Officers Moore and Knight, Rand turned to the World Wide Web and started tracking down anything and everything he could find on Emily, Sean, and Taylor Langford. Rand had discovered enough information to be convinced someone didn’t want the murders solved. The question was, who and why?

  A soft knock on the door drew his attention. “Yes?” Lucy peeked in. “This better be good. I really don’t need any distractions right now.”

  Shaking her head, Lucy stepped into the office, pointing to the clock on the wall. “Shit!” Rand exclaimed. It was ten fifteen.

  “Shall I show Agent Landers in then, sir?”

  “Yes, please do.” He stood and walked around the desk, greeting the man when he came in. “Agent Landers, how are you today?”

  “I’m good. Please, call me Rory.” His handshake was firm and steady, impressive given that the agent didn’t look a day over twenty-five. Long, nimble fingers slid over Rand’s palm, and he felt the urge to grasp and hold on but refrained.

  Rory Landers was not a big man. He was about five foot ten with a lithe body. Anything he was lacking in the height, weight, and build department, he made up for with confidence and professionalism. His shoulder-length black hair seemed out of place for an agent, and he had mesmerizing green eyes that Rand thought he could get lost in, given the opportunity. Simply put, the man was stunning.

  “Can I get you anything before we start? Tea, coffee, water…” Rand asked, shaking his head, dislodging the random thoughts.

  Rory nodded. “Water would be good, thanks.” Lucy was already standing in the doorway with two bottles of water in her hands. Rand took them and thanked her before closing the door.

  “Here you go, Rory.” He passed one of the bottles to him, taking a seat behind his desk with the agent directly across from him. “Now, why don’t you tell me why the Bureau is involved in my cold case, and why there aren’t any notes of said involvement in any of the files.”

  Rand sat and listened, getting angrier by the minute, as Landers detailed his and two other agents’ participation in the case. “Okay, let me see if I have this right. The Bureau has agents assigned to ‘shadow,’ ”—Rand made air quotes with his fingers when he said the word—“Taylor Langford, his adoptive parents, and Officer Frank Moore, but there is no mention of any of this in any of the files pertaining to the case. Nor is there any mention of the fact that you—Agent Rory Landers with the Federal Bureau of Investigation—were specifically assigned to follow an officer with the Dallas Police Department, in that officer’s personnel file?”

  At least Rory had the decency to look sheepish. “In a nutshell, yes.”

  Rand waited, let the silence drag out to the point of discomfort, until Rory was squirming in his seat before speaking again. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” He shouted, slamming his hands on top of the desk. “You assholes at the Bureau didn’t think it relevant to note your agenda?”

  Landers seemed to be working out exactly what to say in response, his face and posture firm but his eyes uncertain. “We didn’t then and still do not know whether or not someone inside the Bureau or Homeland Security was involved. Seriously, Sergeant, think about it. The case file you pulled when you decided to reopen this case was minuscule at best, right?”

  Rand glared at him, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll give you that much.”

  “Exactly. The director thought it wise not to divulge our involvement back then—or at any point over the past decade until now. Listen, I know you’re upset, but I think if we combine our efforts and skills, we can solve the murders of Emily and Sean Langford. And that’s everyone’s goal at the end of the day. Right, Detective?” The cocky bastard squinted at Rand, and it took a lot of restraint not to growl at him. Buttoned up in a crisp, blue suit and matching tie, jaw clenched, Agent Landers’s posture screamed, “Don’t mess with me.” The narrowed eyes and glint of uncertainty in his gaze betrayed the confidence the agent was determined to emanate. Interesting. I wonder if he’s that assertive in bed.…Rand pondered.

  What? Turn your dick off, Davis, and focus on the case! He took a deep breath, held it in, then exhaled slowly. “All right, Landers. Let’s pool our resources and solve this case. I’ll have my secretary contact Homeland Security and set up a meeting with the officers on record, Frank Moore and Caleb Knight. Anything you want to add to the agenda?”

  “About that…”

  “About what, Landers?” Rand was seriously going to lose his shit if there was one more surprise today.

  “I’ve been assigned as the liaison from Homeland as well.” Rory shrugged.

  “Of course you have,” Rand stated flatly. “I’ll set up the meeting for first thing tomorrow morning. Now get the hell out of my office.”

  Landers nodded, standing to leave. “Just for the record, Agent. There aren’t
going to be any more surprises, are there?”

  “No.” Rory spoke softly, posture rigid, seeming to be in a hurry to leave.

  “Motherfucker. So much for professionalism,” Rand muttered, tossing the pen in his hand at the door to his office as it closed. “What the hell have I gotten myself into with this one?”

  ***

  Of every scenario that Rand could have imagined, learning that Agent Rory Landers, under the guise of his undercover alias, Trevor Noland, had been sleeping with Frank Moore while assigned to shadow him? That thought never crossed his mind. He offered to file a formal complaint with the Bureau, but Frank declined. Rand was still considering reporting the incident on his own. Landers’s behavior was unacceptable, unprofessional, and a few other choice words came to mind. The entire situation was a clusterfuck of epic proportions. It aggravated the shit out of him—he didn’t know if it was the unprofessionalism or his attraction to the agent that annoyed him more.

  Riding the elevator up to his office gave Rand a few minutes to think. Learning of Landers’s indiscretions was a blow, yes, but damned if the man hadn’t looked shattered when he found out Frank Moore and Taylor Langford were now a couple. Sitting at his desk, staring at the phone, Rand considered calling the Director of the FBI but decided he wanted to speak to Agent Landers first, perhaps get the details he’d omitted from their meeting. So instead he called Cummings, who was assigned to Taylor, and Agent Gonzales, who was assigned to the Stones, and set up a meeting with them for the following day.

  Finally, he dialed Rory Landers’s number, a bit startled that he dialed it from memory. But then, they’d spoken several times on the phone regarding the Washington case, so knowing the digits shouldn’t be a surprise. “Agent Landers.” Rand tried to be annoyed that the man didn’t even bother with a “hello,” but he was too damned tired.

  “Landers, it’s Rand Davis. Listen, can you come back by my office, so we can talk? Off the record, of course.”

  The connection was quiet for so long, Rand had to check his phone to be sure the call hadn’t dropped. “Landers?”

  Throat clearing, Rory finally spoke. “About…” He let the word trail off, uncertainty evident in his tone.

  “I think you know the answer to that.” Fifteen years working intelligence and secret ops for the Navy made Rand an extremely cautious person. Anyone could be listening in on a landline, so he was always careful how he worded things.

  “O-okay, I…I’ll be there as quick as I can.” Rory stuttered before disconnecting the call.

  Keeping busy while he waited, Rand went through his email and responded to as many as he could. He’d just finished a protein bar when there was a knock on the door. “Yes,” he called out, standing as Rory pushed the door open. “Come in, Agent, and have a seat.” He pointed to the comfortable armchair in the corner of his office.

  Something he’d learned from an admiral he served with in the Navy—always make the person you’re questioning comfortable; get them to let down their guard. So, Rand transformed one corner of his spacious office to make it look and feel like home. Two microsuede chairs sat angled on either side of a coffee table, a simple lamp and a globe on top with a tall bookshelf against the wall behind them. “Catcher in the Rye, that’s one of my favorites.” Rory smiled almost shyly. Bingo!

  “Really? Mine too. I think I’ve read that one enough times that I could recite it from memory.” Rand laughed, offering Rory a drink from his minifridge. “I have water, tea, some sodas…or I can make hot tea and coffee in the Keurig.”

  “Just water, please.” Rory attempted another smile, but it came off as more of a grimace. Rand grabbed two bottles of water, crossing the office and taking the seat beside Rory, receiving a muttered “Thank You” when he handed him one of the bottles.

  Those nimble fingers that had grazed his palm earlier twisted the cap off the bottle, drawing Rand’s attention to his hands. He followed the movement as the agent lifted the bottle to his mouth, cataloging his features. Jet-black hair that brushed his shoulders framed his angular face, his jawline showing the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow, but it was the man’s extremely expressive green eyes that held Rand’s attention. When the agent first entered Rand’s office his posture was rigid, eyes uncertain. In just the five minutes he’d been there, he was far more comfortable—back still stiff, face a mask but overall, he was calmer. Rory Landers was smart and had tenacity, which would get him a lot further in the Bureau than muscle or brawn.

  “I’d beat around the bush, Agent Landers, but it’s not my style.” Rand leaned back in the chair, loosening his tie. “I need to know how and why you allowed the lines to blur from a professional relationship to an intimate one with Officer Moore.”

  Sighing, shoulders slumping, Landers downed the remaining water and tossed the bottle into the trash can beside the desk. He leaned forward, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. “It happened a few months after I was assigned to shadow Frank…er, Officer Moore.”

  Rand waved his hand in the air. “This is meant to be nothing more than a chat, Agent Landers. You can call him Frank. It’s fine.”

  The man glared at him—and fuck it all if that wasn’t appealing, Rand didn’t know what it was. No one ever challenged him the way Rory Landers did. His title afforded him a certain amount of respect, and normally he would bring that fact to Agent Landers’s attention. But for some reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on, the Agent’s confidence intrigued him.

  Bringing his hand to his mouth, Rory faked a cough to cover the laugh he almost let out. “Well, if we’re dispensing with formalities, then let’s lose the ‘Agent Landers,’ Detective.”

  Rand chortled. “Okay, Rory. But only if you call me Rand—I insist.”

  Slowly, one corner of Rory’s mouth lifted, and he shook his head. The man was as intriguing as he was infuriating. “All right, Rand. Like I was saying, it was six months I think, after I initially met Frank as Trevor. I knew, since I was tailing him, that he was taking an impromptu trip to New Orleans, so I made sure Trevor was working the flight from Dallas to NOLA. When the flight landed, he got a text from the friend he was meeting that his flight was canceled. I had the night there, so he asked me if I’d like to join him for dinner.

  “I made him work for it—didn’t want to seem too eager, but I eventually told Frank I’d join him. God, we talked for hours, literally closing down the hotel restaurant.” Rory smiled, a whimsical glow lighting up his face. “After, he asked to walk me to my room, taking my hand when we got into the elevator, and I’m pretty sure you can use your imagination from there. The next morning my alias had a flight back to Dallas, and Frank decided to head back to the airport as well, try to catch a standby flight, and we exchanged contact information.”

  Staring off into space, Rory was remembering that exchange fondly, judging by the sappy grin and twinkle in the agent’s eye. Rand was bereft, wondering if anyone he’d ever spent time with remembered him as affectionately. Rory blinked, seeming to realize where he was as he sat up straight and pulled on the collar of his shirt. Rand wanted the carefree man sitting across from him moments ago back. “Anyway, we met up again a few months later in Dallas and mutually agreed to a ‘friends with benefits’ type of relationship. I always knew there was a part of him that Frank wasn’t sharing, that he held something back. I didn’t fully realize what that was until this morning…seeing him and Taylor.” Eyes misty, Rory blinked and looked away.

  Christ almighty. Rand could see now exactly how Frank Moore had become a permanent fixture in the agent’s life for the past nine years. His body language was likened to sign language: every movement a clue, facial expressions a dead giveaway, and those fucking eyes. Damn. Rand could get lost in those eyes and drown, given the chance. The man that Rand had worked with previously on the case in Washington, the man that had stepped into his office the day before—he was by no means readable. Expressionless, precise, and void of emotion,
when Rory was in work mode, he was probably unstoppable.

  A thought occurred to him then. “You were hoping to become more than just fuck buddies when the investigation was over, once the case was solved, weren’t you?”

  “Jesus, Rand. Do you have to be so crass?” Rory growled.

  “Yes.”

  “You really are a pain in the ass.” Landers snorted. “Yes, I wanted more, much more. But none of that matters now, does it?” Standing and straightening his suit coat, the man glared down at him. “If that’s all, Detective, let me know if you have any more questions regarding the Langford case.”

  Taken aback by the agent’s curtness, he watched Rory open the door and walk out of his office without so much as a backward glance. It took Rand a moment to gather his thoughts and by then, the elevator doors were closing with Rory inside. I don’t know whether I want to throttle him or kiss him, Rand thought, pursing his lips to keep from grinning like an idiot. Special Agent Rory Landers was a conundrum. One that Rand fully intended to unravel, piece by piece.

  Chapter Six

  Shannon New Year’s Eve 2015

  Stopping at the large, wrought iron gates, Shannon pushed the button on the call box and waited for Taylor or Frank to answer. After the mind-numbing fiasco at the apartment the two men shared—Taylor’s father trying to kill him in the kitchen—they never went back. Well, Frank had gone back and enlisted the help of his partner on the force, Shannon, and a few other people to help pack up their belongings and hand them off to the movers to be carted to the townhouse they’d leased in the gated community. It cost a pretty penny, from what Taylor had told Shannon, but Frank wasn’t willing to risk Taylor’s safety.

  He blinked when Taylor’s voice traveled through the speaker box; loud music and rowdy people could be heard in the background. “Is that you, Shan?”