Serial Games (Virginia Justice Book One)

by K. Victoria Chase

  “So, I guess we’ll do that surveillance tomorrow.” He repositioned himself on the opposite side of the car.

  “Uh, yeah sure.”

  Maggie swiftly exited the car and made her way to her door, directly across from the elevator. She held her room key card above the swipe lock. She looked back. Brandon had moved to lean against the middle of the compartment. He stared at her evenly. The doors slowly shut and the chime of the elevator signaled its movement downward.

  Chapter Eight

  Brandon ripped open the top of a packet of creamer and it spilled on his fingers. With a breath of frustration, he tipped the rest of the liquid into his coffee mug. He grabbed a stirring stick and whisked the coffee. Morning had come too soon. He should have gone to bed as soon as Bernie took over the midnight shift but his blood still coursed with adrenaline from his kiss with Maggie. Ignoring Bernie’s advice, Brandon waited until the pounding blood in his ears faded. That was his first mistake.

  His second was allowing his mind to dwell on the lovely FBI profiler. He barely knew her, yet his infatuation with her increased at an accelerated pace. He’d spent the last five years disciplining his mind to focus on anything other than women and now he found it difficult to not want her attention, especially after their confrontation at the scene of the roasted car. Brandon grimaced as he remembered the way he had spoken to her. She didn’t have to forgive him, but she did, a testament to her maturity. If they hadn’t amicably progressed past their disagreement, working together could get tedious real fast.

  The elevator.

  What exactly did he hope to accomplish? Did he think she was comfortable enough to open up to him? Did he want to know her thoughts? Brandon had found it tough to keep his own mouth shut. An intense desperation to be direct with her, to come right out and admit something was growing between them, nearly overtook him in the elevator. If it had, it would have been a mistake. What would have been the point? After Emily, there was no one else. There would be no one else. The one woman he loved was taken from him, and the pain had shattered his heart — and his trust in a benevolent God. Brandon would never allow himself to fall for a woman again; that would give God the chance to prove that once again, He was a tyrant.

  Then he kissed her.

  And held her.

  Maggie’s coldness to him after they arrived at the hotel last night didn’t help his decision to keep his heart — or his lips — under lock and key. He recalled her clipped responses in the elevator. After their kiss, however, he knew she’d forgiven him. He could read it in her eyes, warm and rich as deep amber. If only her room was a few more floors up. Maggie had raced out of the elevator with a terror on her heels. Brandon’s lip twitched in subdued anger. A woman never ran from his kiss.

  Brandon sipped his coffee and groaned after the hot liquid burned his tongue. He took a seat at a nearby table and drew his notes closer. As he sat his cup down, he caught a glimpse of Agent Deckker as she walked into the room.

  Brandon looked down. He sensed an attraction from Deckker. Last night, she kept herself busy, but it wasn’t lost on him the number of times she managed to speak to him. She had let down her ponytail, flipped her hair a few times, and smiled plenty. Doug fumed in one corner and shot fire-darts at Brandon with his eyes. Brandon heaved a breath and kept his attention on the pages in front of him.

  “Good morning.”

  “Good morning, Agent Deckker.” Brandon looked up. She smiled coyly. The acid in his stomach burned as his level of irritation rose. How come Maggie didn’t smile at him that way? What am I, a child? You decided to keep things professional, remember? Brandon forced his stomach to calm itself and removed thoughts of Maggie from his mind.

  “Going over notes?” Agent Deckker inquired sweetly.

  “Yeah.” Brandon looked down again.

  “Anything new?”

  His head snapped up at the new voice.

  Maggie.

  Brandon’s pulse increased as his eyes refused to leave her form. Her dark hair hung loosely around her shoulders in soft waves, her eyes bright and clear without any recognition of last night’s tense encounter in the elevator. She wore a sunny yellow blouse, which set off the honey color of her skin. She shone like a beacon or…a halo. Brandon short-circuited his imagination, and willed his heart to beat at a normal pace.

  “Actually, there is.” He abruptly rose from his chair and the women followed him as he made his way across the room to a television/video cassette recorder combination. He snatched up a tape beside the system, checked the label, and then inserted it. Turning the television on by remote, the word “play” appeared on the screen. Brandon stood, legs spread, arms crossed. “Burrows was spotted at another gas station. We picked this videotape up yesterday from the gas station off Route 677. There’s something I want you to see.”

  Maggie inched slowly toward him, her eyes fixated on the screen as the black-and-white video of the store played. Brandon inhaled deeply and his senses reeled from her soft floral fragrance. Now this has got to stop. He fingered the cross on his neck.

  John Michael Burrows casually entered the gas station, walked around the perimeter of the aisles first, before he wandered each one individually.

  “What is he doing?” Deckker asked.

  “I don’t know,” Maggie whispered, uncertainty in her voice.

  Burrows neither picked anything up to purchase, nor fingered any item — that the camera recorded. Then, he leisurely strolled to stand beneath the mounted camera. He looked directly into the lens. His lips moved upward to show a full-toothed grin. Brandon paused the video.

  “That’s essentially the meat of it. A few seconds later, he leaves the store.”

  Maggie then turned to him, with a question in her eyes.

  “What are you thinking?” Brandon breathed quietly.

  Her mouth opened slightly and she paused as she considered her words. “I’m wondering why he would deliberately leave evidence of his trail for us. Some serial killers kill for the game but that game is usually between them and their target. They want to know if they can succeed in victimizing someone. At times they kill for the attention and the thrill of possibly being caught. A cops-and-robbers scenario. Burrows didn’t fall into the latter category.” She turned back to the screen, brows creased, mouth twisted in discomfort. “His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, so it isn’t entirely genuine, and it’s hard to distinguish in black and white but the squinting of his eyes would suggest he is hiding something. Something he doesn’t want us to see yet. However, he wants us to know there is something.”

  “He’s toying with us. Still.”

  Maggie shrugged but nodded. “He’s taunting us, yes, but to what end?” She asked the rhetorical question as she stepped closer to the video. Her eyes squinted at the smile.

  “Why is he doing this?” Agent Deckker pointed at the paused screen. “I mean, look at him. It’s like some cartoon character; it’s sick.”

  “Well, that’s something we’ll need to figure out, but at least we know the motive behind his actions now. Before, he killed because of his mother, and now…” Maggie’s voice trailed.

  “Let’s just hope he hasn’t selected a new target.” Brandon clicked off the television. He handed Maggie the remote and their fingers brushed. Heat shot through his hand and his reaction infuriated him. “Look, I have a meeting with the mayor to prep for. You can watch the rest of this if you want. Keep me updated.” He caught a glimpse of Maggie’s startled reaction as he moved away. Sure, he was a little gruff with her, but anything to keep his distance.

  As he walked back toward his table, a twinge of guilt seeped from his conscience. He ignored it.

  ****

  Maggie sat in the foyer of the hotel and waited for Doug’s arrival. They had planned to visit the new owner of Burrows Photography, Happy Gilbert. According to her documentation, Happy became managing partner of the business during Burrows’s trial and subsequent incarceration. They knew nothing else about Happy o
ther than his modest financial holdings, which indicated no red flags.

  Happy Gilbert intrigued Maggie. She didn’t recall hearing his name during her initial investigation of Burrows. Happy wasn’t an employee of the photography shop during the time Burrows had committed the murders. Quite possibly they overlooked him somehow, as an acquaintance of Burrows’s and nothing more. Many people knew Burrows but had no connection to the murders. Clearly, Burrows trusted Gilbert enough to run the business. Unfortunately, that meant Maggie and her team probably missed their initial link, which may have led them to the killer sooner the first time around. Maggie closed her eyes and breathed out evenly. She dispelled the frustrated voice in her head. She wouldn’t dwell on that likelihood now. She and Doug would ascertain the depth of the relationship between the two, and then determine Burrows’s next move.

  Maggie’s research last night yielded nothing. Reading the bios of the thugs who escaped with Burrows produced no new leads. Each man, after several violations of the law, found their way on the road to a supermax for life in prison. None were of any importance, and had no connection to Burrows. Most were involved in drugs, with one or two tied to organized crime. Maggie entertained the idea of a link between organized crime and Burrows but after a phone call to the DA this morning and a promise to look into it, Maggie settled that prospect on the back burner of possibilities.

  Minutes ticked by on the ornate clock above the guest reservation desk. Maggie expected a little delay from Doug, due to his late night in command and control. Although not privy to what happened, she imagined he tried to keep pace with Deckker all the while matching wits and brawn with Brandon.

  Maggie chuckled. For as long as Doug and Deckker knew each other, Doug had his fascination for Deckker on full display for everyone to see. Only Deckker didn’t notice. Or maybe she knew and ignored him — Maggie wasn’t sure, but she knew Deckker would never give him a chance.

  The lobby door opened and a marshal Maggie recognized entered the hotel.

  A marshal.

  Brandon.

  Last night in her room, she’d prayed for the strength to keep her mind disciplined on Burrows.

  But his kiss…

  It had charged every nerve and instead of being able to channel her energies into her project, she’d bounced off the walls in her room as if she had just downed a triple shot of espresso. Maggie’s eyes closed and her lips parted at the memory. Every detail flooded her mind: his mouth, his arm holding her to him, his callused hand gentle on her cheek. The kiss was both demanding and sweet: the most perfect first kiss ever.

  “Maggie, you ready?”

  Her eyes fluttered open. Doug stood before her with a confused stare. “Yes,” she forced out. “No, I wasn’t sleeping.”

  Doug grinned widely. “Wasn’t even thinking it.”

  No sooner had she stood to walk out to their vehicle did her thoughts return to Brandon. She secretly wished he’d maintain a level of professionalism that would allow her to do the same. Truth be told, she felt inadequate to the task of guarding her emotions when she was near him — if last night was any proof.

  Then this morning happened. The conflict brewing in his eyes, the intensity of his touch: Maggie saw no trace of the desire he had showed the night before. He kept his voice clipped and the physical distance between them wasn’t lost on her. Only a lingering vigor in his eyes when his gaze took in her appearance gave hint to his suppressed emotions. That vigor now made her blush.

  Now he decides to behave in a more professional manner? His tone, demeanor, attitude…all were just as she hoped they would be the morning after their kiss. So, why was she so upset? Why did she suddenly wish for a hint or even a look that would heat her blood and cause her to agonize further? Did she secretly expect a deeper familiarity? Well, I guess we’ve already crossed that line.

  “Wait!”

  Maggie turned to see Deckker ran in their direction.

  “Deckker. Can’t keep away from me, can you? Wanna come with?”

  Deckker rolled her eyes at Doug. “Believe me, I’d have sent someone else out here if they weren’t all on the phone. Anyway, I just heard about some sort of festival happening soon. I believe that’s what Brandon went to talk to the mayor about.”

  “Okay, thanks, Deckker.” A festival? Maggie decided whatever the town was celebrating wasn’t important. Right now, Happy Gilbert needed her attention.

  “No problem. See you two when you get back.”

  Maggie stood with Doug as they watched Deckker walk back into the hotel. You have no reason to be jealous, or envious for that matter. No, she didn’t. God had given her outward beauty, and brains to match. She could attract a man, but just any man wouldn’t do. Maggie sighed audibly. Brandon’s kiss in the elevator last night, and then his indifference this morning, gnawed at her.

  For the sake of the case, Maggie needed to keep herself emotionally reserved, but the fervor in his gaze and the potency of his voice left her unsettled.

  Intuition kicked in and suggested another alternative to Brandon’s shifting mood. One completely unrelated to maintaining professional distance. But what? Did he want her at all? If he even had an ounce of desire for her, he was fighting it.

  ****

  A small bell chimed when Maggie opened the door to the photography shop on Davis Street. The front desk remained in the exact spot she remembered. A large photo album with dated photos laid open on the counter, beside it a receipt book and at the furthest end from the door, an old register. Behind the counter, a black sheet covered a large seat, which abutted a dark velvet drape hanging from a wall. The shop boasted upgraded photography equipment and new ceiling lights, Maggie guessed to complement the advanced equipment.

  Maggie peered at the receipt book and fingered the corners of the used pages. Business was good. Happy Gilbert faithfully continued the Burrows legacy.

  “I don’t know what I expected, but I thought this place would have been completely changed. Almost nothing is new.” Doug stood beside her.

  “It’s eerie, isn’t it? Like stepping back into time.” Maggie cast her friend a glance.

  “I wonder if anyone is here.” Doug walked around the back of the counter toward the shoot area.

  Maggie’s gaze strayed to the album on the desk. She spotted a picture of a small boy. His clothes were dated, yet the look in his eyes held Maggie’s to the page. Even the binding of the album looked familiar. Had she seen this before?

  “Hey, Maggie, take a look at this.”

  Maggie put the album down and came around the counter to stand beside Doug. He pointed to a picture on one of the walls.

  “I’ve always loved period shots. Look at the couple in their cowboy getup. Do you think I could pull off the Marlboro man?”

  Maggie laughed lightly. She smiled at another photograph with three children, possibly from the same family, dressed in cowboy hats, gun belts, and boots complete with spurs. They each sported a stern expression and looked ready for high noon. “Perhaps we could get a pricelist on photo packages and come back so you can fulfill a childhood fantasy.”

  Doug smiled wistfully. “Nothing like being a kid, eh?”

  “Can I help you?” A crusty voice came from the back of the shop. Maggie turned to see an older man with a silver beard shuffle toward them. He slightly raised the tweed hat he wore on his head. A dim red light came from the room the man exited and the metallic smell of developing chemicals followed him.

  “Are you Happy Gilbert?” Doug asked.

  “Who wants to know?”

  “We are special agents with the FBI.” Doug pulled his badge and credentials from his jacket pocket and flashed his picture before he returned it to his pocket.

  “I didn’t get a good look at that.”

  “What?” Doug tilted his head toward the man, a challenge in his voice.

  “My eyes are going bad.”

  “And you run a photography shop?”

  “Mr. Gilbert.” Maggie stepped forwar
d and produced her badge. “I’m Agent Weston and this is Agent Fairbanks. You are Happy Gilbert, correct?”

  The man strained his neck to see the badge. “Yeah, I’m Happy.” His drawl lagged on as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t recall you purchasing a photo package.”

  “We haven’t, no.” Maggie bit back a smile but shot Doug a quick look. He smirked.

  “Then could you please step around the counter?” Happy held his hand out in a gesture to lead the agents back to the front of the shop. Doug grunted and turned on his heels.

  “Mr. Gilbert, we didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

  “That’s fine, miss, but I’d like to keep this area clean for paying customers.”

  “Of course,” Maggie hurried.

  When they were once again in front of the counter, Happy positioned himself on a stool near the register and gave them a toothy grin. “Now, how may I help you?”

  Maggie caught Happy’s even stare. “I’m sure you’ve heard John Michael Burrows has escaped custody.”

  Happy nodded his head slowly. “I have.”

  “Has he contacted you?” Doug asked quickly.

  “Nope.”

  “I understand you are managing partner of this business?”

  Happy turned a quizzical eye on Maggie. “I am, miss.”

  “Can you tell us how you came to know Mr. Burrows?”

  “I’ve known him ever since he was a little boy.”

  “Is that right? I don’t remember seeing you the last time we were here,” Doug asked doubtfully.

  “That don’t mean I didn’t know him.”

  “Were you friends with his mother?” Maggie asked.

  “God rest her soul. She worked hard to build this business. I upgraded the equipment and lights last year.” Happy gestured around. “Can’t make quality pictures without havin’ the latest equipment. She really had a gift. She could capture the soul in a person’s eyes.” Happy looked beyond them, as if seeing the past before him.

  “You said you knew her son, John.” Maggie steered the conversation back to Burrows.