The woman’s suspicious gaze flicked over her but Mallory could no more meet her eyes than she could juggle potted plants. Henderson went back to her desk and picked up the phone. Did she suspect the real reason Mallory had been reassigned? Why have a file on Meacher?
Of course, Meacher was the sort of killer she investigated on a daily basis, so why wouldn’t she have a file on Meacher?
Paranoid much?
Dark-haired Agent Barton wandered in carrying a Fed-ex box. “It’s for you, Rooney. Mailroom checked it for suspicious substances but said it was clean. No one is trying to kill you—yet.” The other agent handed it over with a smirk. Mallory sent her a smile of thanks, but it was rejected. The woman stared at her thoughtfully. Henderson said something and Barton moved on. Mallory shuddered. And these people were supposed to be on her side?
Thanks, SSA Hanrahan.
The box was about three-inches deep and when she opened it what she saw shocked her. Printouts of old newspaper articles about child abductions in West Virginia, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Virginia and Kentucky, dating back twenty-five years.
Who the hell knew she was looking into this stuff?
Agent Frazer had given her the idea at Monday morning’s meeting, but she hadn’t told anyone...except every law enforcement office she’d spoken to over the last five days. Plus anyone in the office could have overheard her inquiries. She scratched her head. Someone had done her a huge favor, she just wished she knew who it was, and their motive. She looked for return information, saw an address in DC. She’d see if she could track down a name.
She put the box on the floor to take home tonight. Her whole weekend had just been shaped by some unnamed source and she wasn’t sure she liked it. Leaning back in her chair she gazed at the map she’d pinned to her cubicle wall. It showed the locations where the young women were believed to have been snatched and where their bodies were found. Her gaze was drawn back to the home state where she’d spent the first ten years of her life. Her father’s family estate, Eastborne, in Colby, West Virginia.
After Payton’s abduction she’d been forced to attend boarding school in DC, but she’d spent several of her summers back there, missing Payton, hanging out with Lucas and his sisters who lived nearby. She hadn’t been back much since college. Virginia Tech, then Harvard Law School. For the last two years her career had been her top priority and time off was scarce. What little vacation time she did get, she spent in DC seeing both her parents at the same time. Despite the divorce they got on well. In fact, her father wanted them all to go up to Eastborne for Christmas one last time and then he was putting the place on the market.
The idea saddened her even though she never wanted to live there. The ties that bound her to that beautiful old house were deep as mine shafts and strong as steel, but it was a shame for such a gorgeous house to remain empty except for the housekeeper most of the year around.
Her eyes flickered over the map. One of the latest serial killer’s victims was from Greenville, only fifteen miles from Colby.
Her phone beeped with a text from her mother about dinner over the weekend. She sent her a quick reply to say she’d think about it, then stared at the screen on her phone. The fact she’d saved Alex’s text from last Friday night showed how truly pathetic she was. For the hundredth time, her finger hovered over the keypad to ask him if his crisis was sorted. The urge had her shaking her head with frustration. She put the phone in her pocket. She didn’t have time for a relationship even though she really wanted to see him again.
“Problem?”
She jumped an inch off her chair and her heart did a triple salchow. “No, sir.”
Frazer stared at her the way an eagle eyed a mouse, wondering if it was worth the bother. The guy still looked pristine whereas she’d managed to spill coffee on her white shirt and whatever make-up she’d applied that morning was long gone. From his expression, she was beginning to suspect the spinach salad she’d had for lunch might be stuck between her front teeth. She swept her tongue around her mouth but didn’t feel anything except enamel.
A small smile touched the corner of his mouth and she narrowed her gaze.
Oh, he was definitely psyching her out.
Special Agents Barton and Henderson came across to her desk to heckle.
“Any luck with other law enforcement agencies?”
“Not yet, but I’ve still got a lot of calls in and I started on some of the adjoining states.”
He nodded sharply. “Good. What do you make of the geographic profile?” He pointed at the map that she’d pinned to her wall.
Mallory frowned. “There’s a pretty wide spread area, but a heavy concentration in Virginia suggests that’s his comfort zone.” She indicated the middle zone of the dots.
“You remember that from the academy, Rooney?” Barton asked.
“Considering she’s barely out of it, she should.” Henderson didn’t bother to hide her contempt but Frazer didn’t try to defend her.
Mallory squared her shoulders. Before she could open her mouth, Frazer interrupted. “I’m taking that drive up to Greenville, West Virginia, on Monday. That’s near where you grew up, correct, Rooney?”
She nodded.
“I want you to accompany me”—Mallory’s mouth dropped open in shock—“I should warn you we will also be visiting the Medical Examiner’s Office in Manassas to view bodies of three of the victims before they’re released for burial.”
“I’ve witnessed a few autopsies, but thank you for the heads-up—”
“I thought I was going with you for that.” Henderson cut in. Her expression was tight. Appalled.
The excitement at the idea of a road-trip plummeted.
“You’ve made me all too aware of how under-qualified Agent Rooney is, Agent Henderson. So she can accompany me as a second pair of eyes and gain experience.” He kept a straight face but Mallory had no doubt he was putting the other agent in her place for being such a bitch. It didn’t mean he liked her any more than Henderson did but it sure as heck made Mallory feel better. “Plus, Agent Rooney has personal experience of West Virginia that you don’t have.” He cocked a brow. “Correct?”
Chastened, the other agent nodded.
“We leave here at eight AM sharp, don’t be late.” He gave Mallory a stiff nod and walked away.
She watched Henderson inhale so massively she thought the woman’s lungs might burst. Then she turned on her heel and strode away. Barton watched her with an odd light in her eyes, like she’d just had a few of her fundamental ideals flipped on their heads. Welcome to the club. Then she also turned and walked away.
Mallory refrained from fist pumping and instead got everything together she might need for the weekend. This was fantastic. She’d hopefully be able to add something concrete to the investigation, even if it was only breaking the ice with local law enforcement personnel who’d be happier dealing with one of their own than an “outsider” from Virginia. It probably made her sick to be excited by this latest killer carving “PR” into his victims but it was the closest thing she’d had to a lead in her sister’s case in years. And it was still spider web thin. She grabbed her laptop, coat, mysterious box, and headed into the frigid night toward the parking lot. It was dark. Theoretically the traffic shouldn’t be too heavy as she did the opposite commute to most of drivers in the DC area; somehow theory never made it into practice.
She strode past row-upon-row of cars and eventually found hers where she’d left it near the edge of the forest. She opened the passenger door and dumped her belongings on the front seat. Then she strode around the trunk, noticing the car sat at an odd angle.
She had not just one flat tire, but two. Dammit. Frustration made her want to howl but that never looked good. She stiffened as Special Agent Henderson rolled slowly by in her SUV. The woman lowered her window. “Problem?” she asked.
Mal put her hands on her hips. “No problem.”
With a smirk the other woman drove away. Had Henderson done
this to her car? FBI agents were notorious for playing pranks on one another but this held malice rather than fun. A shiver of unease swept over her shoulder blades and she glanced toward the forest.
Don’t be stupid, Mal, you’re surrounded by the US Marine Corps. Like she needed to invent imaginary foes when she had a whole rack of real ones to choose from.
Mallory pulled out her cell phone and dialed her recovery company. After she hung up she stood there staring at Alex’s text message.
She typed, “Hope emergency all sorted. Thanks for Friday night.” It seemed trite and insufficient but she was hardly gonna type “thanks for letting me screw your brains out.” Christ. Her fingers hovered between send and delete for a full thirty seconds before she finally pressed the send button. Shoot. Just because she’d been thinking about him constantly didn’t mean he’d given her another thought. She bit her lip. Didn’t matter now.
She glanced at the forest and shivered. She didn’t know what scared her most—getting attacked by some unknown boogeyman, or falling for Alex Parker.
***
His phone pinged. A text from Mallory. His pulse raced. So much for being the cool, dispassionate operator. Although he’d lost that title when he’d faced that young girl with his arm wrapped around her father’s neck and chickened out of killing the motherfucker.
“Hope emergency all sorted. Thanks for Friday night.”
He grinned. It was so un-Mallory-like and he’d bet she’d spent an age figuring out exactly what to say.
He checked his phone tracking data. She was still at Quantico. Not in the building itself, but in the parking lot. He was only ten minutes away, driving home on the 95, which was snarled with the usual rush hour traffic, after a meeting in Fredericksburg. She must be on her way home.
He got another ding on his computer telling him Mallory had made more phone calls. He set his teeth as he listened, the sound of her voice reminding him of her lips and the memory of her lips reminding him of how hot her kisses were, and how sad her eyes, and how massively he’d betrayed her trust.
Then he listened to the words. Two flat tires? He glanced at the tracking data and sure enough she was still in the Quantico parking lot. Fuck. He checked his wristwatch and heard the recovery company say they’d be there ASAP—which would be at least another hour. He didn’t like it. He dialed her number.
“Hello?”
“It’s Alex. The answer to your question is yes.”
“My question?” Her voice was hesitant.
“My emergency is more or less sorted out. And as for the second part of your message, the pleasure was all mine.”
She snorted but he could hear a frisson of tension in her voice as he maneuvered his Audi around traffic. “It wasn’t all yours.”
“Don’t argue with a hungry man. What’re you doing?” He needed to keep hearing her voice because he was worried that even though she was surrounded by feds and Marines, she was vulnerable. It was crazy. It was obsessive. But two flat tires were unusual.
“I’m working late.” She didn’t want to tell him.
“You want to go out for supper?” He overtook a lumbering tractor and sped along the highway toward Quantico and DC. “Or does anything involving food violate the no-dating rule?”
“I think my no-dating rule needs a few tweaks.”
He could hear the grin in her voice, wished he could see it. His foot was pressed to the floor and he’d be lucky not to get pulled over by the highway patrol, but the urge to get to her was strong so he didn’t ease up. “Hell, no.”
“That’s because I jumped your bones—”
“Damn straight.”
She sighed. “But regardless, I’m stuck at work for at least another hour. My car has two flat tires and I’m waiting for the recovery guy to come and fix them.”
“Two flat tires? Were they slashed? Where are you, are you safe?” He wanted as much information as possible.
“I’m at Quantico, heavily armed in my car, so I think I’m safe. The tires weren’t slashed, someone just let the air out.”
“What the hell?”
“Let’s just say it appears I haven’t made such a great first impression on some of my new colleagues.”
“I’m five minutes away, leave the keys for the recovery guys and I’ll give you a ride home.” She went quiet. Too quiet. He could feel her slipping away. “I’m not expecting a repeat of last Friday night, Mallory, I’m just making sure you get home safe.” Although, really, why should she trust him?
“I want to say yes, Alex, you have no idea how much. But I have to say no. I’m just not in a place to start a relationship right now...” He thought he might hear tears in her voice but that had to be his imagination. “I want to say yes, but I can’t.”
He took a left into the FBI portion of the Quantico grounds and pulled up at a checkpoint. “If you don’t accept a ride from me, I’m going to look like a damn fool in front of all these jarheads.”
“You’re already here?” She hung up and he showed his ID to the guard. The fact they let him through suggested she’d taken pity on him by calling ahead to vouch for him.
He turned into the parking lot and saw Mallory standing beside her car, pulling out a box he recognized, followed by her laptop and purse. She opened his trunk and ditched her stuff and he used the time to silence his cell phone and tuck it into his pocket. She opened the door, her expression stern, eyes twinkling.
“Mr. Parker.”
“Special Agent Rooney.” He nodded solemnly back. The sight and scent of her drew him in. She smelled like mint.
“We need to stop meeting like this.” She climbed in.
His gaze swept over her. Every time he saw her she affected him more, and he didn’t know why. “Are there laws against meeting like this?” he asked carefully.
“Only if we start doing what we did last Friday night right here in the FBI Training Academy parking lot.”
“You had to say that out loud?” He pulled away as soon as she’d done up her seatbelt. “You couldn’t pretend I hadn’t seen you naked?”
“I’m not the pretending type.” Her expression darkened for a moment. “At least not most of the time.” What did that mean? “But I’m not trying to lead you on. I really don’t have time for a relationship—”
“Who said I was looking for a relationship?” Because he wasn’t. He really wasn’t.
She tilted her head to one side and bit her lip. “Maybe I keep saying it in the hopes I’ll convince myself as much as I’m trying to convince you.”
“You like to get it all out there on the table, huh?”
“I like honesty,” she agreed.
His mouth parched. “How about we just relax and get to know each other?” Christ, where did that come from? He just wanted her home safe. Nothing more. No “getting to know one another.” Frickin’ idiot.
“Tell me about your family,” she prompted.
“Not much to tell.”
She raised one arched brow at him as he turned back onto the main highway.
“My mother’s dead.” He never spoke of her. “She died of cancer when I was fourteen. I don’t have anyone else.”
“I’m sorry.” The pain in her voice was obvious.
“It was a long time ago.” His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. There had been times when he was sure his mother’s spirit had visited him in that rancid filthy jail—those were the good times. “She would have liked you.”
She let out a big sigh. “You’ve only seen the good parts and they were clouded by alcohol consumption.”
“They were naked which is always good in my book. But that’s not why she’d have liked you.” They passed a tow truck with flashing yellow lights which must have made record time. “I remember her telling me before she died to make sure I did something worthwhile with my life. I’m not sure I’ve done that, but you have. You should be very proud.”
She eyed him wryly. “Maybe one day I’ll get there.” She looked
away as if the conversation was too intimate. It probably was.
So he lightened it up. “My dad was a professional gambler from Reno.”
She looked back. “No kidding. He made a living at it?”
“Fuck, no.”
She laughed.
“He used to travel between cities on the Greyhound bus, which is not the mark of a successful businessman. When he occasionally showed up for visits it was usually because he had nowhere else to go. Mom let him stay. I don’t think she loved him, she just felt sorry for him. He was an addict and gambling was his drug.”
“What happened to him?”
“He struck lucky one day in Carson City and won a hundred grand.”
“From your tone this doesn’t have a happy ending.”
“He was knifed in a back alley. Probably trying to score enough speed to keep him awake long enough to lose his winnings.” He shrugged. Talking about his father didn’t hurt the way talking about his mother did. They’d had no connection beyond DNA.
They passed another tow truck. “Wow, it looks like I’m not the only one in trouble tonight.”
“You didn’t leave an apartment key or your address in your car did you?”
“No. The company has my address on file but agreed to tow it to the garage I use.” She shot him a look under her brow. “I’m not an idiot, Alex.”
He nodded but something about this whole thing teased his senses. It didn’t feel right, but maybe it didn’t matter because Mallory was sitting safe beside him and he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.
“Lucas said you were consulting on the Meacher investigation?” she said.
And just like that the atmosphere chilled. “He sent me some cell tower data but there’s nothing in it of value.”
“Maybe whoever shot Meacher didn’t carry a cell phone?”
“Maybe. You have any idea who did it?” He tried to sound nonchalant.
“I’m not on it anymore and Lucas didn’t say.” She shrugged but sat up a bit taller as if her brain had switched on and it reminded him she’d been the only agent to suspect a professional hit man. She had good instincts. He needed to be careful. “He sure as heck didn’t sound like he’d gotten anywhere when I spoke to him last night. With Danbridge breathing down his neck he’s getting desperate.”
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