BATON ROUGE

by Carla Cassidy - Scene of the Crime 09 - BATON ROUGE

  “I agree,” Agent Tim Gardier replied. He was the youngest agent in the room. Painfully thin, with glasses and a head full of red hair that had probably not seen a barbershop in the last five years, he was also a genius computer geek and a genuinely nice guy.

  “I don’t know, maybe we just haven’t stumbled on their bodies yet,” Nicholas said.

  Georgina mentally groaned. Just what they all needed, negativity at the very beginning of an investigation.

  “It would be quite a challenge to house and feed seven captives,” Agent Frank Webb added. “Especially if only one person is responsible for all this.”

  “It’s too early in the investigation to make the assessment that we’re only hunting one perpetrator,” Alexander said. “What I hope is that the note received this morning really is from our man, and I hope it’s the beginning of him becoming chatty.”

  “He hasn’t had much to say until now,” Nicholas said, a frown cutting across his broad forehead. “We don’t even know if he’s finished or if he intends to kidnap more people.”

  “You’re right,” Alexander said with a touch of impatience in his voice. “We don’t know much of anything about this person. We don’t know if he has enough ‘research subjects.’ We don’t even know if his plans for more subjects include someone in this room.”

  These words sobered everyone. Their discussion lasted until one o’clock in the afternoon at which time Alexander called for a lunch break.

  “Everyone back here at two o’clock sharp and I’ll start breaking this down with assignments,” he said.

  Alexander was still seated in his chair with his focus on the contents of the folder as Georgina and the rest of the agents left the room.

  She had no idea where the others were going, but she found herself walking next to Tim, who was obviously heading in the same direction as she was, to the cafeteria in the basement of the building.

  “I have a feeling we’d better fuel up while we can,” Tim said as they stepped into the elevator to ride down two floors. “I’m seeing long hours and few breaks in my future.”

  She gazed up at him, noting that the lights in the elevator turned his red hair into a furry ball of orange. “Have you worked with Alexander before?”

  “Never as lead, but he has a reputation for being tough and driven. You should know how he works.” The elevator stopped and the doors opened, and together they followed the hallway that would lead them to the cafeteria.

  “He’s definitely tough and driven,” she replied.

  Alexander had always been driven, it was part of what had attracted her to him in the first place. She could only imagine since the Gilmer case, which had gone wrong the last time he’d been lead investigator, that his drive for success was even deeper.

  She grabbed a salad and Tim took two cheeseburgers and fries and they found a quiet table in the corner that suited them both. She knew Tim was comfortable with her, but like her, he wasn’t necessarily a people person.

  They ate quickly, not talking about the work ahead of them, but rather Tim explaining about a new computer program he was working on. Georgina found most of his talk gobbledygook, but she apparently nodded and murmured in the right places for he seemed pleased with both her and himself by the time they had finished their meal.

  When they returned to the “war” room, Alexander was still in the same place he’d been when they’d left, letting her know he hadn’t taken a lunch break.

  She wasn’t surprised. There had been many times during their marriage when they’d been working separate cases that she’d have to remind him to stop and eat or to fall into bed and catch a couple hours of sleep.

  She knew how he worked. Without anyone in his life to tell him to slow down, he’d go until he crashed and burned. But he wasn’t her worry anymore, she reminded herself.

  She and Tim were followed into the room by most of the rest of the team. Nobody wanted to be the last one back from lunch.

  The minute everyone was seated, Alexander once again went to the head of the table. “Right now we’re all going to function on the supposition that the note we received is real, that our perp is holding these people and he’s from the Baton Rouge area,” he began. “I’m assigning Tim and Jeff to work on getting locations of all abandoned buildings and warehouses on the outskirts of town. If this person is holding seven people captive, then it would be in a place where nobody would see his activity and nobody could hear our victims scream.” His jaw tightened.

  Georgina’s stomach clenched as she thought of seven people, including a little girl, yelling for help or shrieking with pain, from a place where nobody could hear them. Her determination to hunt and find, to capture and end this case, filled every cell in her body.

  It was a familiar, welcome emotion, one where she dwelled most of the time. Work was her life...despite the dangers of being an FBI agent, it felt safer to her than personal relationships or friendships. She knew her failings and she did neither of those well.

  “I want Nicholas and Frank to work on finding some sort of connection between all these missing people, besides the obvious that four of them were FBI agents,” Alexander continued.

  “Isn’t that enough of a connection?” Frank asked as he raked a hand through his thinning gray hair.

  “I don’t think so. If that was the case, why would our perp go all the way to Mystic Lake? Why take somebody from Bachelor Moon? If all he wanted was random FBI agents, then he could have taken his pick from people who work right here. There has to be more of a connection. It feels to me like these people were specifically targeted, and we need to find out why.”

  “We’ll get on it,” Nicholas replied with a firm nod of his head.

  Alexander looked at the last two male agents in the room. Terry Connors and Matt Campbell, both seasoned agents who were known for their attention to detail.

  “I want you two to go over all the information we have from both the Bachelor Moon and the Mystic Lake disappearances and maybe your fresh eyes can see some detail, something that so far has been missed. You can travel to Bachelor Moon, but at this point, will interact with Mystic Lake authorities by phone or whatever. As we go along, if you need to travel there, we’ll make arrangements.”

  Georgina tensed as she realized she was the only person in the room who hadn’t been handed a specific assignment. Alexander’s blue gaze met hers.

  “Georgina, you’ll be working with me, and we’re going to start at Jackson Revannaugh’s apartment and continue the investigation into his and Marjorie’s disappearance.”

  She made sure her face revealed no emotion other than compliance, although she’d rather work with anyone on the team other than Alexander.

  In the past two years they had managed to have very little interaction with each other and that had suited her just fine. Apparently he intended the two of them to work as partners within the task force.

  I can do this, she told herself. She could remain professional and not tap into any memories that belonged to the two of them alone, memories that served only to remind her of what a pathetic life partner she had been.

  There would always be a piece of her heart that would carry the Alexander brand, but it had nearly been buried now, and there was no digging it up, not that she thought he might want to.

  All she wanted to do was find the bad guy and rescue the people who needed them. If working closely with Alexander helped her achieve that goal, then she was more than prepared for the challenge.

  Chapter Two

  It was nearly four o’clock when Georgina got into the passenger side of Alexander’s company car. She buckled in as he slid behind the steering wheel, his energy a fierce entity that instantly filled the interior of the car.

  He’d pulled on a lightweight black suit jacket that hid his shoulder holster and gun, but he still w
as a commanding presence without the show of firepower. She preferred a belt holster that she’d pulled on before they left.

  “How have you been? I haven’t seen you around for a couple of weeks,” he said as he started the engine and then headed for the parking lot exit.

  “Busy. I was working on the Browning fraud case. We managed to tie things up yesterday. Mr. Browning should be spending quite some time in prison.”

  “Chalk up another one for the good guys,” he replied.

  Georgina tried to relax against the seat, but it was difficult to find any relaxation at the moment. Her heart beat with a quickened rhythm. She assumed it was caused by the knowledge of the case she was now working and not how Alexander’s familiar cologne filled the air.

  “You met Jackson’s new girlfriend?” she asked.

  “I had dinner with the two of them last Sunday night, and then we were supposed to meet for drinks on Tuesday evening. When they didn’t show and I still couldn’t get hold of Jackson all day Wednesday, I knew in my gut that something was wrong. Last night, at my urging, Miller sent a couple of agents over to check on Jackson, and that’s when they discovered they were gone, but all of their personal items were still there.”

  She saw the tightening of his fingers around the steering wheel and knew he had to be worried sick about Jackson’s well-being. “What was she like? The woman from Kansas City?”

  “She’s Special Agent Marjorie Clinton.” A hint of a smile curved his lips. “She’s everything that Jackson isn’t...she likes healthy food, she thinks he’s full of baloney most of the time and it’s obvious they are crazy in love.”

  “Jackson needs a good woman in his life,” she replied.

  “It appears he’s found her.” He frowned. “Now all we have to do is find them.”

  “It isn’t possible they flew back to Kansas City if their identifications were left behind,” she said, thinking out loud.

  “They wouldn’t have gone anywhere without his wallet and her purse, both of which were left at Jackson’s place. And they definitely wouldn’t have gone anyplace without their weapons.”

  “Any sign of a struggle in the bedroom?”

  He shook his head, the late-afternoon sun gleaming on his black hair. “I haven’t been to the scene, but according to the two agents who checked it out last night there were some bedcovers rustled, but no real sign of a violent struggle and, trust me, Jackson would have put up quite a fight. I’m hoping maybe you and I can find or see something they missed that might give us a clue.”

  “There weren’t any clues found in Bachelor Moon or Mystic Lake,” she replied.

  A new knot of tension formed in his jaw. “Don’t remind me.” He pulled into the driveway of the luxury apartment complex where Jackson lived.

  The Wingate apartments were set up more like condo units and definitely were for the wealthy who didn’t want the responsibility that came with owning a home.

  Jackson’s unit was on the end of the last building in the complex, bumping up against a heavily wooded area and attached by a common courtyard entrance to the unit next door.

  “Any sign of forced entry?” she asked as the car came to a halt.

  “Not according to the initial walk-through.” He cut the engine and turned to look at her, his blue eyes like hard-edged sapphires. “We either have a perp who is an expert at picking locks or, knowing Jackson, it’s possible he went to bed without checking that all the doors were locked. He always thought he was invincible.” Frustration deepened the tone of his voice.

  “Then let’s just hope that whatever has happened to him, he remains invincible,” she replied.

  He cast her a quicksilver smile that lingered only for a moment, just long enough to whisper heat through her. “Let’s get inside and see what we can find.” He opened his car door and was halfway to the courtyard entry as she hurried to catch up to him.

  They had just reached the fence that led to the courtyard when a figure stepped out of the woods. Alexander filled his hand with his gun in the blink of an eye and then muttered a curse and jammed it back into his shoulder holster.

  “Jeez, Joe, do you want to get yourself shot?”

  FBI agent Joe Markum stepped closer to them with a wry grin. “Jeez, Harkins, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  “You know my motto...shoot first and ask questions later,” Alexander replied. “What are you doing out here?”

  “I was assigned late last night to sit on the place to make sure nobody except appropriate officials gained access. Somebody should be arriving soon to take my place, but I’m assuming it isn’t you two.” He nodded to Georgina with a friendly smile.

  “We’re here to investigate,” she said. “Miller formed a task force this morning and Alexander is leading it.”

  “And we’re hoping to find something that was missed last night,” Alexander said.

  “Knock yourselves out.” Joe gestured toward the front door. “It’s unlocked and there’s protective gear in boxes on the porch.”

  “Thanks,” Alexander said and together he and Georgina walked through the gate and to the front door where a box of booties and latex gloves awaited whomever might venture into the house.

  Georgina pulled on the protective gear and once again her heart began to beat faster. She’d never been in Jackson’s home before, but it was the fact that she was about to enter what they’d already determined to be a crime scene that had her adrenaline flooding through her.

  As she followed Alexander into the house, she tried not to notice how his lightweight suit jacket pulled over his broad shoulders, how his black slacks fit perfectly around his slim waist and down his long legs.

  She tried not to remember what it had felt like to dance her fingers over his naked muscled chest, how her legs had often twined with his when they’d made love.

  They had been great in the bedroom. It had only been when they got out of bed that she hadn’t been able to get the relationship right. She firmly shoved these thoughts out of her mind as they entered Jackson’s living room.

  Jackson was the epitome of a Southern man and his furnishings reflected the style of warmth and invitation that would have done any Southerner proud.

  The oversize sofa was a rich burgundy and gold print, flanked by burgundy wing-backed chairs. The coffee table was a large square of wood that held a gorgeous floral arrangement. The room was beautiful, but obviously rarely used and not the center of the home.

  “Nothing looks like it’s been touched in here,” Alexander said as he moved into the next room, a large great room more casually decorated and obviously the space where Jackson spent much of his time.

  A huge flat-screen television hung over a stone fireplace and two leather recliners provided the perfect places to sit and watch a movie or dancing flames. Again, it appeared as if nothing untoward had occurred in this room. There was no sign of a struggle or anything amiss.

  Neither of them spoke as they entered the kitchen with its large table and variety of pots and pans hanging from a baker’s rack on the wall. Everything was neat and tidy and she watched as Alexander dragged a hand through his dark hair.

  “I guess the report we got that they were taken from their bed is true. Nothing seems to be out of place down here. We should head upstairs.”

  She nodded and once again found herself following him up the stairs that led to three bedrooms and two baths. The first two bedrooms and the hallway bathroom showed nothing untoward.

  She felt her entire body tense as they approached the master bedroom. She stepped into the room just behind her partner. The king-size bed was unmade. The sheets trailed off to the floor on the closest side of the bed to the door.

  “That bedding doesn’t look normal to me,” Alexander said as he stood still as a statue, his gaze lingering on the bed.

/>   “By the way the sheets are hanging off, it looks like somebody was dragged from the bed,” Georgina observed.

  “I agree.” The knot in his jaw throbbed as he pointed to the farthest nightstand. “But, how could anyone drag them out of bed when Jackson had his gun right next to him.”

  The gun was on the nightstand next to a silver-and-black lamp, an easy reach even in the darkness of night. “Maybe he drugged them? Drugged the food they ate before they came to bed? Slipped something in their drinks?” Her mind raced to make sense of the scene.

  “I’ll have the crime scene guys come back and check everything that’s in the refrigerator to see if they find anything tainted by drugs.”

  He remained standing at the foot of the bed, staring at the room as if in a trance. Georgina did nothing to break his focus. She knew this was part of his process, this concentration that he used in an effort to see the crime as it happened, to understand any clues that might have been left behind.

  She wondered if he still had nightmares. If somebody was seeing to it that he ate right. She’d heard no rumors that he was dating anyone, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t. He’d had two years to move on, and two years was a long time for a man to be alone, especially a man as vital, as alive as Alexander.

  “Were the lights on or off?” He finally broke his trance and turned to look at her. “Do you remember from the report if the lights in here were off or on when the first agents arrived on scene?”

  She frowned thoughtfully, trying to picture the initial report. “Off,” she finally replied. “Jackson is a big man. If they were both somehow drugged, then how did our perp move their unconscious bodies from here to a waiting vehicle down the stairs and outside?”

  Alexander looked closely at the carpeting around the bed where the covers trailed to the floor and then stepped out of the room and stared down the long hallway toward the staircase.

  He turned back to Georgina, a deep frown cutting across his forehead. “I don’t know.”