by Cynthia Eden
CHAPTER NINE
SHE KNEW THE DEAD. MOST DAYS, VICTORIA PALMER thought that she understood the dead far more than she did the living.
Sure, the dead kept secrets. Just like the living did. But it was usually much, much easier to uncover the secrets the dead kept. The living were far too good at lying.
“I appreciate your cooperation on this case,” FBI Agent James Elroy said as he stepped closer to the examination table. They were in the coroner’s office—back in the exam rooms. The coroner had been fast to wave Victoria toward the remains. He’d looked a bit green when he did it.
And for something to make a coroner turn green . . . this case isn’t going to be easy.
“I’m happy to help,” Victoria said as she pushed up her glasses, just a bit. She hadn’t gotten a good gauge on Agent Elroy yet. The guy was holding back, watching her with cold eyes and seeming to monitor her every move.
“We need to know the victim’s identity.” Elroy sounded a bit pompous, a little too bossy, but she knew that was the way with many FBI types. Sarah would, no doubt, be profiling the guy if she were there. But the dead, the remains—those weren’t Sarah’s department. Victoria was the forensic anthropologist, and when Gabe, her boss at LOST, had told her to hop a plane for the Big Easy . . .
Well, she hadn’t exactly been expecting this.
We’re looking for a serial killer? They didn’t usually look for killers at LOST. They looked for the victims who’d been taken.
The coroner, a doctor who appeared to be in his mid-thirties and had identified himself as Dr. Bryce Armont, opened a vault and pulled out one of the slabs.
He started to unzip the black bag on that slab. Only . . .
That bag looked small.
“We have to see if this is one of Ricker’s victims,” Elroy continued. “We need the age, the sex . . . we need a damn name, so we can see what we’re working with here.”
Dr. Armont finished unzipping the bag. Yes, he was definitely green, and the guy’s fingers were even shaking. When Victoria saw the remains on that table, she understood why.
It looked as if the animals had gotten to those remains. “There’s not much to go on,” she said, even as pity welled within her.
“You’re supposed to be the best!”
Wait, had he just gone there? Victoria’s hands rose to her hips, and she jerked her gaze up to meet his.
“Wade Monroe said you were the one we needed. I called my superiors at the FBI. They backed you.”
Yes, well, she’d certainly worked enough cases with the FBI over the years. Enough to know . . . I hate working with you guys. What a bunch of arrogant asses—
“If you can’t do it, then we need to get someone else in here who can handle this job.” He pointed toward Dr. Armont. “Seal it up, we’ll get—”
She grabbed his hand. “There is no one else. I am the best.”
He glared.
Victoria glared back. She knew better than to let a guy like him push her around. “I’ll learn everything I can, but you need to stop expecting miracles. There’s just not a lot to go on right here.”
Through gritted teeth, Agent Elroy said, “I need to know if Ricker killed him, or if this is just some poor SOB who met his end some other way in that swamp.” He leaned closer to her.
She wasn’t even sure they were looking at a “him” just yet. “Let me do my job.” But don’t expect miracles. She’d been serious with that warning. There was only so much she could do.
“You’re familiar with Ricker’s work?”
She dropped his hand. “Familiar enough.” Actually, after she’d met Dean, Victoria had made it a point to learn everything she could about Ricker. So maybe she shouldn’t have pried in the lives of her friends, but she did. Mostly because she had a need to uncover secrets. Kind of a compulsion.
I have to trust the people I’m around. After what Victoria’s father had done to her mother, she was always hesitant around people. Always worried she’d fall for a lie.
“I need this information yesterday, do you understand?”
She understood plenty. “Then you’d better let me get started,” Victoria said as she reached for her gloves.
And she focused on the dead.
Unlike the living, the dead never lied to her.
THEY WERE TRYING to take her away from him.
Dean didn’t move a muscle as he felt the anger surging inside him. He’d suspected this would be the FBI’s move, and he’d tried to take steps to stop them.
“I’m not going anyplace with you,” Emma said flatly.
His breath eased in and out slowly as he glanced over at Wade. The guy was looking seriously guilty. Hell. What have you done, man?
“Do you want to be taken by him?” Kevin asked Emma, his voice cold. “Because if the information I have is correct, it’s only a matter of time. You need to realize Jared Ricker has killed over a dozen people. Their deaths weren’t easy. He tortures his prey, enjoys their suffering.”
Emma seemed to pale. Dean slid closer to her.
Kevin and Wade had stepped into her apartment and shut the door. And Kevin was inching a little too close to Emma right then.
“Has Dean told you about the other victims?” Kevin pressed. “About how we found them? About what Ricker did to them?”
He hadn’t because he hadn’t wanted to make Emma even more afraid than she already was.
“Ricker killed my friend, Lisa,” Emma said quietly. Her hands had twisted in front of her. “He put a knife in her chest in the middle of a busy square. I found her. I think I can quite understand what he’s capable of doing—”
“He was merciful with her.” Kevin’s statement curtly cut her off. “Probably because he never intended to focus on her. She was just in the way.”
Emma went even paler then.
Dean surged forward. “Stop.”
What could have been sympathy flashed across Kevin’s face. “You think I like reliving this shit? But she has a right to know what she’s facing. You should have told her instead of trying to use her.”
Use her? The hell he was. His hands fisted, but before he could say anything else, Wade was in his path.
“We made a deal, okay?” Wade was definitely looking guilty. “Victoria is down at the coroner’s office right now. Our team is supposed to be cooperating fully with the FBI’s task force.”
And he was just learning about this shit now?
“We all want the same thing,” Wade pushed. “To stop Ricker, right? To find him and to stop him before he hurts anyone else.”
Yes, dammit, of course that was what he wanted. Did they seriously think he wanted something to happen to Emma?
“He drugs his victims first,” Kevin said. The guy just wouldn’t stop talking. “To make them weak, easier to manage. Then, when the drugs wear off, that’s when he really gets started.”
Emma backed up a step.
“He uses his knife. Slices them.”
Emma glanced down at her hands. At her scars? And she immediately shoved her hands behind her back.
“He lets them bleed out for a while, he enjoys hearing them cry out.” A stark pause. “At least, that’s what the FBI profilers thought. Until Julia, we didn’t have a victim—other than Dean there—who could tell us what hell those poor souls suffered.”
“Enough,” Dean snarled. The guy could stop terrorizing Emma.
“No, it’s not enough,” Kevin came toe-to-toe with Dean. “Because I was there, remember? I saw you at that cabin in the mountains. I know just how enraged you were. I know how personal this is. You want Ricker because that bastard nearly beat you. And you always had to win, right?” His voice dropped. “Every case, you had to prove that you were the best. That you could catch the killers. But you didn’t catch him, and I know that’s been eating you alive.”
“You’re one to talk,” Dean gritted out. Because when it came to the cases, Kevin had always been just like him. Until the end.
“Rules are in place for a fucking reason,” Kevin snapped. “You didn’t get that.” He turned toward Emma. “It’s time to leave, Ms. Castille.”
Emma shook her head. “I think you missed the part where I said I wasn’t coming with you.”
Kevin’s eyes narrowed on her. “And I think you missed the part where I said you didn’t have a choice.”
“No.” Dean caught the edge of fear in Emma’s voice. “You can’t just . . . take me. I’m a U.S. citizen, I have rights—”
“You’re a material witness.”
No, she wasn’t.
“And you’re being taken into federal custody.” Kevin’s hand curled around Emma’s shoulders. “Later, you’ll thank me. This really is for your protection.”
“Sorry, man,” Wade muttered. “Didn’t know it was going down like this.”
Kevin was leading Emma toward the door. She cast a frantic glance toward him. “Dean!”
“Dean will be cooperating with the task force,” Kevin assured her. “Once you’re at a secure location, I’ll contact him. You’ll see him again. Don’t worry, that was part of the deal.”
A deal that Dean had never agreed to. “Emma . . .”
Wade was still at his side. “If you want to stay in the FBI loop”—his words were low, warning—“we have to play ball. You know that.”
But Emma was afraid. She was staring back at him with big, lost eyes. She’d just gotten back to her apartment. And now she’s being taken away?
“We know the names of two others who were taken,” Dean announced. Maybe if he shared, then Kevin would back the hell off. “They’re our leads. We can track them and learn more about Ricker’s activities in New Orleans.”
Kevin and Emma were at the door. Kevin hesitated and glanced back. “You always were fast when it came to tracking.”
“Emma is the reason I know about those two. She’s working with us. She’s not meant to be shoved in a safe house someplace!” They all needed her.
But Dean shook his head. “It’s not my call to make.”
Elroy. Fuck.
“I’m not going.” Emma backed up. “I’m not—”
“You can come out willingly,” Kevin told her, “or you can come out in cuffs. There are two New Orleans police officers outside your building. They’re waiting to make sure you leave with me.”
And something happened then. As Dean stared at Emma, all of the emotion wiped from her face. Her gaze became shuttered, her expression completely unreadable.
Oh, hell. “Emma . . .”
She glanced at him. He missed the emotions in her stare. He missed—
Emma smiled, and her dimples flashed. “Don’t worry. It’s just for my protection.”
No. That smile was wrong. It was her fake smile. One that said she was about to cause trouble. One that said danger in big, flashing letters.
“Don’t take her.” He grabbed Kevin’s arm. “We can work something out. We’ll all help you to find Ricker—”
“This isn’t a damn debate!” Kevin’s voice dropped. “I don’t want it this way, either, but you know how Elroy gets. He’s running the show. He wants her in custody. Brass is leaning on him, and he can’t afford to lose her, not with the media attention that’s going to be coming this way.”
Dean knew the firestorm would ensue as soon as word spread that Ricker was back in action.
“I’ll get her to one of the FBI’s safe houses,” Kevin continued gruffly, “and we can go from there. It’s all part of the deal we worked out with LOST. She’s covered, and we’ll be working together.”
A deal Dean hadn’t brokered.
Kevin glanced back at Emma. “Are we doing this easy? Or hard?”
“Lead the way,” was all she said. Such a change from her first words to Kevin.
The hell I am.
Dean knew she was just biding her time. If the FBI agents didn’t watch her carefully, she’d vanish at the first opportunity. Then she’d be on her own out there, with Ricker waiting to attack. And what would I do then? “Keep a guard on her,” Dean said, the words sounding too harsh to his own ears.
Her shoulders stiffened.
He hated to say it, but he had to protect her. “She’s going to be a flight risk.”
Her gaze cut to his. Still no emotion. Not a single drop in that bright gaze.
I’m sorry, Emma, but I want you alive. And until he could figure a way out of this mess, her FBI guards would have to keep her safe.
Her smile came again. Those perfect dimples winked. “Oh, Dean,” she said with a sad shake of her head. “You don’t know me as well as you’d like to think.” She shook her head. “Lock up when you leave, would you? I’m rather tired of uninvited guests.”
Then she left, with Kevin following closely behind her.
She left, and watching her walk away was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
“Dean . . .” Wade sighed. “I’m sorry, man. We didn’t have options. You’d told me that taking down Ricker was priority, and with your past, I know how much you want to see that bastard caught. I thought I was doing the best thing. For you. For her.”
Don’t punch your friend in the face. Don’t punch your friend in the face. “I was keeping her safe.” He had to get out of her apartment. Because everywhere he looked, Dean saw her.
He stormed out, with Wade following closely. Dean locked the door, just as she’d ordered. When she came back, the place would be perfect for her. She’d have her haven again.
Dean started down the stairs. Maybe he was going so fast because he wanted to see her, just once more, before Kevin took her away.
“He told me about Charlotte.”
Charlotte. Not a place, a person. A woman that Dean had known so long ago. He whirled toward his friend. “Emma isn’t her.” He forced his back teeth to unclench as he said, “And I don’t know what bullshit Kevin told you, but I didn’t risk Charlotte.” Her image flashed through his mind. Pretty, petite Charlotte Brown. She’d been an FBI informant, a woman who’d used her innocent looks to get close to a very dangerous crime family. When she’d wanted out, Charlotte had turned to the FBI. He and Kevin had been assigned to her case. And Kevin . . .
He’d fallen for Charlotte.
“She died.”
“And I did everything I could to prevent that.” He shook his head as he glared at Wade. “You know better than to believe any BS that you’re told, even if that BS is delivered by the FBI.”
“I didn’t say I believed him . . . I said I had to get us an in with the task force. You’re the one who said Ricker was the priority, or has that changed?”
He spun away. Hurried down the rest of the stairs. And he got to the street just as a cop car pulled away from the curb. Emma was in that car, in the backseat, like she was some kind of criminal.
This is wrong. “I have to get her back.”
“You’re a tracker, Dean. That’s what you do best. You need to be out there, looking for Ricker. The FBI can protect her. It’s win-win.”
Not for Emma, it wasn’t. He couldn’t take his gaze off that car. “But we had a deal.”
He and Emma. They were . . . partners.
“We had a deal,” he said again, and Dean knew he would be getting her back.
“YOU’VE GOT QUITE an interesting history, Ms. Castille.”
The FBI agent was with her in the back of that patrol car, sitting a bit too close and getting on Emma’s nerves. But she didn’t let him see her rising fury; instead, she turned her head, lifted her brows, and said, “Been researching me, have you?”
His gaze drifted over her face. Kevin Cormack was a handsome man even if his features were a little too rough. Maybe some women liked that dangerous edge. Maybe some women thought that his eyes were deep. Brooding.
She didn’t give a crap about them. She just wanted out of the car. So even though she appeared to be staring at the agent, she was also taking careful note of her surroundings so she could see just where this safe house
was going to be.
“I’m sorry about what happened to your father.”
Ah, there was just the right amount of sympathy in his voice. If she hadn’t been so furious, maybe she would have softened toward him.
But she didn’t.
“And I know you thought siding with Dean Bannon was a good idea, but you put your trust in the wrong man. I’m just glad I was able to get to you in time.”
The car turned right. “Excuse me?”
“Did Bannon tell you why he was forced out of the FBI?”
This was the first news she’d had about Dean being forced out of anyplace. “I know why he left.”
“He’s lucky that Elroy agreed to let him anywhere near the task force. You can’t go all Lone Warrior when you’re part of a team, and when people keep dying because of you . . .” His hands were fisted. “. . . then it’s time for you to get out of the game.”
The emotion that had just broken through the guy’s words was real. “You don’t care much for Dean.”
“Once, he was my best friend.”
Best friends could make for the most vicious enemies. Her gaze slid from his. They were nearing the cemetery, she could see the tall vaults rising over the stone wall on the left. Emma swallowed. “My . . . my friend Lisa is being put to rest today.” She drew in a shaking breath as she glanced down at her watch. “The services will be starting soon, and I-I wanted to tell her good-bye. Before we left, before the safe house . . .” Emma reached for his hand. “Can we stop just a moment? Please?”
A tear slid down her cheek. It wasn’t faked. She damn well hurt when she thought of Lisa, but she also wasn’t about to be shoved into some safe house with guards she didn’t know from Adam. The last time that an FBI agent had been close to her—well, her father had been in a body bag, and the agent had been blaming her father.
Dean was an FBI agent, too. A nagging voice had to remind her of that.
But Dean was different. Or at least, she’d thought he’d been different. Ex-FBI.
Kevin’s gaze softened as he stared at her. “We’ll stop, but just for a few moments, okay? I . . . heard about the attack. I can only imagine how hard it must have been, to find out that your friend died in your place.”