Blacke and Blue

by Fiona Blackthorne

  “Mr. Boyer,” she replied politely before oomphing as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a rib-crushing squeeze.

  “Please, it’s Big Al,” he said. “And, I didn’t give you away. Everybody knew you were here, anyway.”

  “This is the FBI agent?” Ava asked, walking briskly over to them, her men easily keeping up with her.

  “Special Agent Trisha Blacke, Behavioral Sciences Unit, FBI,” she said, shaking hands with Ava. She noticed that the three men and Big Al had closed the circle around them. That same protective instinct for women. How could a town with this kind of ethos produce a serial killer?

  “We’re so glad you’ve come,” Ava replied. “I’m Ava Bell-Barrows. I just moved here a little while ago from Boston. These are my…um…”

  “Husbands,” supplied the sandy-haired man with a good-natured grin that crinkled up his eyes appealingly. “I’m Declan Molineaux, and this is my brother Robert—” He indicated the tall, dark forbidding man. “And this is Sean.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Sean said, giving her a grin that had her grinning back despite herself.

  “Yes,” Trisha said, turning back to Ava. “I’ve heard about Blue Moon’s progressive attitudes, and it’s nice to see that it’s all true.”

  “Believe me,” Ava replied wryly. “I was as surprised as you are. That’s what makes it so hard to think that there’s any threat to us. But, these guys are so freaked out, they’d keep us all locked up in a tower with a twenty-four hour guard until this guy is caught.”

  “Oh, I’ll catch him, all right,” Trisha said with a steely ring in her voice. “He’s not going to prey on women much longer, and I’m going to make him sorry that he ever did.”

  “Amen,” said a deep voice behind her.

  She spun around to see Ger standing there, looking at her gravely.

  Chapter 14

  Trisha started with the feel of adrenaline and guilt stabbing into her veins. It was a small start, and Ava hadn’t seemed to notice, but her men had. Instantly, three pairs of intense eyes were focused on her. Something about their eyes reminded her of…wait.

  “Ian’s about to start,” Ger said, wrapping his arm protectively around Trisha’s waist, causing warm tingles of possession to chase the adrenaline through her body, leaving her embarrassed, uncomfortable, and incredibly, aroused again.

  “Will you be speaking?” Ava asked Trisha.

  “Not this time,” she replied.

  “I’m curious as to why not, Agent Blacke?” Declan asked in a calm yet attractively authoritative voice.

  “Ignore him, Agent Blacke.” Sean smirked. “He watches too much Criminal Minds and thinks everything has to involve revealing a profile to the public.”

  “Well,” Trisha replied with a tolerant smile. “Everything does depend on the profile. But how, when, and who gets to use it are the real secret weapons in this business.”

  Sean laughed and smacked his brother on the shoulder. Ava looked like she was going to ask more questions, but Robert, after a nod and smile at Trisha, began to move her toward a seat in the middle of the room. Big Al and the others followed after them.

  “Go wherever you were going to sit or wherever you usually sit,” Trisha said to Ger. “It’s important that my presence doesn’t change too much of the behavior of people around here.”

  “I’d rather stay by your side,” Ger replied, pulling her close against his body, the movement somewhat disguised by both their bulky winter jackets.

  “Do this to help me?” she pleaded, almost giving in to the urge to bat her eyes at him. She might be overwhelmed, oversexed, and losing her mind, but she still had a shred of professional dignity left. Besides, it would be easier to observe his reactions from a distance rather than if he was next to her.

  Ger gave her the sweet, electric smile that melted her heart every time she saw it and moved to stand off to the side of the room. Everyone settled into their seats, and again, Trisha had an opportunity to see how the social groupings occurred.

  There wasn’t much deviation from the earlier pattern of keeping the women or certain men surrounded by the rest of the men. Some groups of men seemed to sit close to the community but have no significant other with them. A couple of men and older women sat to the outside of the crowd. Trisha thought she recognized the curved-in posture and slight figure of Perk as one of the outsiders, but she couldn’t be sure since she only saw the back of the man.

  She couldn’t help feel a thrill of trepidation as Ian stepped up to the platform and took his place at the podium. Even from the back of the room, she could see his strong movements and imposing presence. Everyone in the audience sat up a little more and almost seemed to lean in just a little bit. Clearly, Ian McDade was not just a sheriff. He was a well-respected and trusted member of the Blue Moon community. This made things both interesting and complicated as far as Trisha was concerned.

  “Hello, everyone,” Ian said, not using the microphone at the podium, and simply lifting his clear baritone to reach the back of the room. “Here is the situation as it stands right now.”

  Fascinating, Trisha thought. No conventional preamble about thank you for coming, or how he wouldn’t keep them long. Maybe her sarcastic remarks this morning about having to have these kinds of meetings hadn’t been so off base, after all, though it was baffling and almost surreal to try and imagine a reason why they would be needed frequently.

  “As of this morning,” Ian said. “We have actually managed to gather up quite a bit of evidence on the killer’s technique and modus operandi. We also have some excellent theories as to his motivation.”

  We did? Trisha worked hard to keep a skeptical quirk of her lips and eyebrows under wraps. Either Ian knew something she didn’t, or he was bluffing. She was betting on the latter. So far, though, nobody in the audience had done anything remarkable in terms of responding to Ian’s words.

  “Finding this guy is the number one priority of the Maine State Police, as well as the FBI,” Ian continued. His eyes flickered to the back of the room and caught Trisha’s gaze for a moment. She could have sworn there was a ghost of a smile on his face as he mentioned the FBI.

  “As you all know,” Ian said. “The FBI has sent one of their best profilers to us to help us build a description of the killer. Agent Blacke has been working on the case already prior to arriving here, and I am providing her with assistance.”

  Was she imagining things, or was there something stilted and significant in Ian’s voice? His words sounded normal, even mundane, but she could have sworn that he was trying to say something else to everyone in the room except for her.

  But that would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it? That would mean that he was trying to put the whole town on guard about her, or to reassure them that she was being…being what? Prevented from finding out something the rest of the town knew? What the hell? Did the whole town know something about this killer that she didn’t?

  She saw Ava Bell-Barrows shift uncomfortably in her seat, able to distinguish her gray-streaked brown hair in the crowd. Maybe she could talk to Ava, since it seemed the woman was an outsider and recently arrived in the town. She might not have whatever deeply inculcated resistance that the other more permanent residents of Blue Moon had.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Trisha also saw Ian and Ger’s parents sitting toward the back of the audience. Barbara McDade’s face looked drawn and incredibly tight, and Bob McDade looked worried and uncomfortable. Trisha’s heart dropped past her stomach and into some kind of black pit of knowing fear when she saw Barbara’s quick glance at Ger and then back at Ian.

  “Naturally, I don’t have an exact timeline of when we will be able to catch the killer,” Ian said. “Agent Blacke is here with us for a few more days, but she will continue to consult on the case remotely. Also, it is everyone’s goal to help her develop a usable profile that we can continue to use in our search even after her departure.”

  Ian’s words sent ch
ills down Trisha’s spine and froze her heart. There was no more doubt that what he wasn’t saying was far more important than what he was saying. Yet, there was nothing specific she could point to that triggered this reaction. It was usually the case that she left a profile with local investigators, and they would need weeks and months sometimes to work with it and set up the evidence to track and capture the UNSUB.

  This was more, though. This was Ian actively reassuring the people of Blue Moon that he was working on getting rid of her as soon as possible, and if anything, they would be safer after she was gone.

  “Until the killer is captured,” Ian said, his posture relaxing ever so slightly. “I would recommend that the residents of Blue Moon and Elkville observe the following precautions. Lock all doors and windows in the house at all times. This includes upper floors. So far, the killer seems to only be attacking women, so I’m putting out there some special recommendations for our women. If you can stay with family and friends for the time being, that would be a really good thing. Also, don’t go out alone, and try not to go out after dark, period. If you must, go in groups or with the men. Don’t stop for anything or anyone on the roads, day or night.”

  This was all good advice, but Trisha felt there was yet again, a subtle undercurrent to his words. Only this time, it seemed to be directed to the men of Blue Moon, who all seemed to stiffen slightly with a tougher line to their shoulders. She saw them reach out instinctively to touch the women with them or near them, if they weren’t with a woman. The gestures were possessive, caring, chauvinistic, and meltingly tender. What a town! All the men seemed to be a cross between Clark Gable’s dashing charm and a Neanderthal’s style of authority. She shook her head and wondered just why she was wishing so hard she could be part of it all with Ger and Ian. It could never be. She had her own road to walk down, and it clearly led away from Blue Moon, Maine.

  “Are there any questions?” Ian asked.

  Trisha kept her eyes on Ian, even though she was immediately aware of hundreds of eyes furtively glancing at her. There were hushed susurrations through the audience, but nobody spoke up directly. Probably they’d all approach Ian in private with questions afterwards.

  “We’ll keep you all posted in the regular ways as things develop,” Ian said. “Thanks so much, everyone.”

  And, that was it. The town meeting was over. Everybody got up, and clusters of people approached Ian. Trisha noticed that a tall blond man in black clerical clothing came to stand next to Ian and seemed to be helping to field the questions. Next to him was an extraordinarily beautiful woman with wavy blonde hair and wide gray eyes. She looked tired and pale, but her smile was kindly and her expression thoughtful. The priest seemed to stand next to the woman a little closer than was absolutely necessary, and a couple of times she looked up at him and said something, as if they were sharing a private joke, a joke that included Ian in several instances.

  So, who were these people? Trisha wondered. Clearly, Ian had a close relationship with them. The priest, she got. In a small town, he’d be an equally respected authority figure as the sheriff. But who was the woman?

  She started to edge toward them, wanting to lurk and hear what she could of their conversations. However, her progress was suddenly blocked by the formidable figure of Barbara McDade and her husband.

  “How was your night, Miss Blacke?” Barbara asked coldly.

  “Quite good,” Trisha replied evenly, readying herself for evasive maneuvers.

  “So, you don’t think you’ll catch the killer before you leave?”

  “I’m generally not present when that happens. I give the local authorities the tools, and they have the time and resources to use them fully. They are the ones who catch the killers, usually.”

  Was that a flash of relief in Barbara’s eyes?

  “As it should be,” the older woman said grimly. “They’re the ones who do all the work around here to keep us safe.”

  “Is there generally a lot to do?” Trisha asked as innocently as she could.

  Barbara shot her a venomous look and said, “The men of Blue Moon are good men, and they give no trouble. It’s all the outsiders that bring chaos and horrible things to our town.”

  It didn’t take an FBI profiler to realize that Barbara was telling Trisha in so many words that she was one of the nefarious outsiders. It also didn’t take a genius to know that Barbara McDade did not approve of her sons’ interest in her. Well, it went both ways. Something in Trisha didn’t approve of the overbearing, interfering way this woman assumed proprietorship over her grown sons’ lives.

  Trisha refused to back down from Barbara’s glare, even though she desperately wanted to. This was not how she was supposed to be spending this meeting. Something about this domineering mother was setting off every single alarm bell in her profiler’s instincts. Barbara seemed defensive of her son that was in some ineffable way above and beyond a mother’s usual manner, especially if that mother had nothing to hide about her sons.

  Enough was enough. She needed to get on with her work, and she had the full measure of this woman, at least enough to add to the evidentiary file…against Ger.

  “Excuse me,” Trisha said coldly, turning away and resuming moving toward Ian.

  Ger caught up to her and slipped his arm around her waist. Twin pangs of relief and guilt raced for preeminence. She felt so comforted by his nearness, yet how could she? And why was she focusing in so hard on Ger? There had to be others who were in the running as suspects. Lots of men had overbearing mothers. Wasn’t that what she had found in her years of work with everybody from the normal to the criminally insane?

  “I’m sorry about my mother,” Ger said, leaning over and whispering into her ear. She shivered with forbidden pleasure as his lips brushed the outer shell of her ear. “She is just a little overprotective of me and Ian.”

  “A little?” Trisha scoffed before she could stop herself. Shit, she shouldn’t have said that. It was rude, but it could also provoke Ger, which was not something she wanted to do just yet.

  “You’re right,” he sighed, nuzzling into her hair. “Make that a lot.”

  “Sorry,” Trisha said. “Can you let me go for a minute? I need to go talk to Ian.”

  Ger looked puzzled but readily released her. She hoped he wouldn’t figure out that she felt she couldn’t share with him everything that she was going to tell Ian, even though at this point, she had decided she wasn’t going to share everything with Ian in case he was mixed up in all this. She bit back a sigh. This was not how it was supposed to be. She was not supposed to be so confused and flip-floppy about her suspects. She also wasn’t supposed to be sleeping with her suspects. On the other hand, law enforcement was supposed to be one hundred percent on her side.

  The worrisome thought occurred to her again that maybe she had hit the famous profiler’s wall, that moment when it had been too much and too long looking into the darkness. Every profiler hit it at some point, the nervous breakdown, the major failure on a case, the chronic stress-induced illness diagnosis, the divorce, the end of the relationship, the inability to feel deeply about anything or anyone.

  Yet, she did feel. She felt caught up, cared for, and cherished…and it was completely fucking her up.

  A touch to her arm jumped her out of her reverie and made her realize that she had simply been standing stupidly midstride, lost in thought. She looked over to see Perk standing next to her, short enough that she barely had to look up to meet his eyes.

  “Excuse me, Agent Blacke,” he said timidly. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Of course,” Trisha replied then started at the sound of a growl behind her. Terrified of being right, she looked behind her and saw Ger, standing a few feet back, his eyes an angry yellow and zeroed in on Perk.

  Chapter 15

  Shutting off her heart, Trisha pressed her lips together in a thin line, took Perk by the arm, and guided him to a seat along the edge of the wall. She was surprised at the amount of firm muscl
e she felt even through his tatty brown barn coat. She also noticed there was a faint smell about him, and she surreptitiously tried to take another deeper sniff to identify it.

  “It’s fish, miss,” Perk said bashfully, an unflattering, splotchy pink starting at the base of his neck and traveling up to his ears.

  “I’m sorry,” Trisha said, abashed. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “Oh, I know that,” Perk replied with an awkward, self-deprecating smile. “It’s so common around here that we pretty much all stop smelling it. You even stop smelling the sea after a while, even if you live right by it.”

  “Do you fish?” she asked, hoping to get him a little more at ease before she dug into him for what he wanted to share with her.

  “Oh, well, you know,” Perk hemmed and hawed. “Only for fun. Now and then. I mean, I work with fish. I mean fishermen. Lobstermen. But I’m not out on a boat. For fishing, that is.”

  The force of Trisha’s initial impressions from Boyer’s General Store about this small, nervous man came slamming back to her. Sure, it was somewhat natural to be nervous talking to an FBI agent investigating a murder, but he was the one who had initiated the contact. Her Spidey-sense was starting to tingle again.

  “So, what do you do?” Trisha asked gently. “I know next to nothing about fishing and lobstering or whatever it is you call it. I’m from Montana, which is about as far away from the ocean as you can get.”

  It was almost too predictable. Her carefully careless remark had the precise effect she had hoped it would. His shoulders dropped infinitesimally, breathing rate slowed slightly, and pupils dilated. There were lines of tension about him, but she had just set him up to talk more, and maybe even lead him to talk enough that he could shed some light on something that was starting to nag her at the back of her head. It was an idea, a thought that was just so irritatingly vague but insistent.