by Gerri Hill
“Weirdness?” Ice tossed his pen down. “In other words, we pulled the short stick.”
“I’m afraid so. It threw up red flags, that’s all.”
CJ was ready to push the file away, quickly losing interest. “So we’re like the junior varsity team? The big boys get Dallas, Washington and Baton Rouge?”
“Look, we take the assignment we’re given and do our jobs. Now take a look at the file. It’s really fascinating reading,” Howley said. “I think there could be something here. When the team was investigating Trumbley’s disappearance, they stumbled across a rash of them, really. None appear to be linked or have a pattern to them, just random disappearances. They discovered that there have been documented disappearances going back to 1939. The disappearances are of the variety of vagabonds, the unemployed who were traveling and looking for work, college students, hitchhikers, traveling salesmen back in the day or people just passing through. Like young Trumbley there. In the most recent cases, the last twenty years or so, most of the disappearances involve women, mostly young, always traveling alone.”
“And none have been found?” Billy asked. “Bodies?”
“None. Not a trace. In some cases, the vehicle has not been found either. Like I said, read the file. It’s interesting.”
“Is this for real?” Ice asked as he flipped through the pages. “A family compound that at one time was over three hundred people?”
“What about this school?” Paige asked.
“That’s part of what’s interesting. Hogan School for Girls,” he said. “It’s a private institution established thirty-one years ago with a federal grant. They took the name Hogan because that’s the property it was built on.”
“Home for troubled girls,” CJ said, reading the brief description of the school.
“Yes. Girls who have been kicked out of public school, girls who would otherwise be heading to juvy perhaps. This is an alternative. It’s pricey. But also subsidized by the feds.”
“What’s the school got to do with all this?” Billy asked.
“The school is the only outside entity there. And it’s totally separate from Hoganville. It’s located about three miles away, out in the middle of nowhere. It was built on property sold by the Hogans. Over the last thirty-one years, they’ve had six girls come up missing. None in the last ten and we can attribute that to better security.”
“So what? Serial killer?”
“I think it’s worse than a serial killer if we’re talking over seventy, eighty years’ worth,” CJ said.
“Exactly,” Howley said. “Unfortunately, worse could be any number of things. So, what we’ve done is replace the director of the school with an agent. A paper pusher, but an agent nonetheless. He’s been there nearly seven months, getting a feel of the community, gathering information. He suggests we bring in two agents.” He glanced at them one by one. “A couple.”
“A couple?” CJ looked at both Ice and Billy and shook her head. “Oh no. No way am I going to pretend to be a couple with one of these guys.”
Howley gave a quick smile. “That’s not exactly the type of couple I meant,” he said. “It’s an all-girls school. Most of the teachers are women. In fact, all but two, actually.”
“And?”
He glanced at Paige. Paige’s eyebrows shot up into her bangs.
“A couple? Us?” she asked, pointing to CJ.
“Based on what Avery has told us—he’s the agent posing as the director—that’s the best course of action, if we want to fit in.”
“What do you mean?” CJ asked. “What kind of couple?”
“What kind do you think, CJ? A couple. A lesbian couple,” he said.
She arched an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. Avery says there are eight lesbian couples on staff. He thinks that’s the best way for us to get a team in and to fit in.”
“Eight couples?” CJ glanced at Paige. “That’s pretty high, isn’t it?”
Paige shrugged. “It’s an all-girls’ school. Stands to reason the teachers would be female.”
“God, can you imagine the drama? Who’s sleeping with whom? Who’s cheating, who’s fighting.”
Paige laughed. “You’ll fit right in.”
“Ladies? Let’s stay on task, please.” Howley handed them both another piece of paper. “That’s your backstory. Memorize it.”
She and Paige both scanned it quickly. Paige was the first to speak.
“Six months? We’ve been together only six months?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
CJ laughed. “At six months, you’re still fucking like bunnies.”
They all laughed, even Paige, who responded by tossing her pen at her. CJ read on, smiling. “Oh, cool. I get to be a campus cop.”
“A gym teacher?” Paige groaned. “Really? I’m a gym teacher?”
“Look, I didn’t write this, okay,” Howley said. “I’m just passing it along. Live with it.”
Paige tossed the paper on the table. “Okay. Just what does this all mean? We’re a couple. What’s the plan?”
“The plan is to infiltrate the teachers and hopefully the community.”
“Where will we stay?”
“Housing is provided at the school. It’s tight as a prison,” Howley said. “The school is secured with a high fence and a locked entry. Remember, this takes the place of juvenile detention. A security guard operates the gate at all times. Dorms for the students, cottages or cabins for the staff. All the teachers live on campus. The only locals who work there are janitorial and cafeteria staff, and that’s part-time. Less than two hundred students, thirty staff, give or take. Sixteen teachers. Your objective is to infiltrate the main staff—two of which are locals. Fiona Hogan, a science teacher. And Gretchen Hogan, the nurse.”
“So we’ll live on campus too?”
“Yes. Like I said, you’re going in as a couple. This isn’t going to be a quick fix, ladies. It’s likely to run several months.”
CJ glanced at Paige, seeing the stricken look on her face. “Months?”
“As you’ll see in the file there, there have been documented cases all throughout the years, very random. The most recent records are more accurate, as far as where the victim was last seen and so on. Earlier records are speculation only. The victims are not necessarily from this area. In fact, they rarely are.” He pulled up another file on the monitor. “This is Ester Hogan. Descendant of the original Hogan who founded the town. Avery tells us she’s the matriarch.”
“Age?”
“We have no idea. It’s a very closed-off community. Everything we have is speculation. It took months to get as much as we have.” He glanced from one to the other. “They are very secluded. They don’t venture out very often. Not for Sunday church. And as far as we can tell, not for funerals.”
“Meaning?”
“Not sure what that means,” he said. “We can assume people die there. What they do with the bodies is anyone’s guess.”
“Okay, now it’s getting weird,” Billy said.
“You think it’s just now getting weird?” Ice asked.
Howley pulled up another photo of the community on the monitor. “Everything is basically funded by Ester Hogan. They got their original fortune in timber back in the early 1900s. They acquired hundreds of thousands of acres. It’s one reason they’ve been able to remain isolated. It’s hard to tell if other families might have moved into the community, but judging by the age of the houses, I’d say it’s been forty, fifty years, maybe more.”
“What about utilities?” CJ asked.
“They’re pretty much off the grid. They have a community water system. Basically, it’s just a large well and cistern that feeds all the houses. Again, built at the expense of the original Hogan family. It’s considered a private water well so there’s no state inspection. There is no evidence of phone lines. I would assume, but don’t know for sure, that some have cell phones. Avery says there are no TV antennas and no sat
ellite dishes. There are generators and solar panels. Not very many cars. Like I said, pretty much isolated.”
“So...are we looking at something like the Stepford Wives here?” Paige asked. “Or a situation like Waco?”
“We’re not sure what we’re looking at,” he said. “Like I said, on the surface, things appear perfectly normal. Dig a little and you find all this. There are no birth records, no marriage records, no death records.”
“But what evidence is there linking this community to the disappearances?” Ice asked.
“None. No evidence.”
They all looked at him questioningly.
He shrugged. “It’s all we got. It threw up red flags because, frankly, it’s a little too similar to David Koresh’s setup in Waco.”
Paige leaned back in her chair, twirling a pen between her fingers. “Evidence of firearms?”
“No.”
“I thought this was a family, not some religious cult,” CJ said.
Howley shrugged. “We don’t know. Your job is to find out. Again, there’s no evidence linking Hoganville to the disappearances. This is purely a precaution.”
“Well, this is going to be loads of fun,” Paige said dryly.
CJ nodded. She hated cases like this. Precaution. In other words, killing time. She glanced at Paige, wondering what her take was on the “couple” thing. That part of it was going to be uncomfortable as hell.
“Okay, that’s all I have. Read the file. Ice, you and Billy will stay here in Houston. Your job is research. I’m sure after CJ and Paige get there, they’ll have lots of questions. Your job is to find the answers.”
“Cool with me,” Ice said. “I have no desire to go to the woods.”
He looked at CJ and Paige. “The cabin you’ll be staying in is furnished. Avery has given me an inventory list so if there’s something you can’t live without, bring your own. That list is in the file. You leave in five days.”
Howley left them alone, and CJ could feel the tension in the room. The guys were glancing between her and Paige. She wondered what they were expecting. So, she did what she normally did with them. Reverted to flirting.
“So,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows teasingly at Paige. “Should we go practice kissing or something?”
Paige rolled her eyes. “In your dreams, tiger.”
“Oh yeah, baby,” she called after her, staring at Paige’s backside as she retreated. “You’ve definitely been there.” CJ grinned at the guys. “My lucky day, huh?”
“Damn right,” Billy said. “Man, I would trade places with you in a heartbeat.”
CJ raised her eyebrows.
“What? I’m just saying, she’s smokin’ hot. She may be my partner, but she’s still smokin’ hot.”
CJ had to agree. But Ice came to her rescue.
“Paige is the lucky one, man. She gets to be with my woman, CJ. Now this is hot,” he said dramatically, motioning to her. “CJ Johnston, the woman with abs of steel.”
CJ stood up and pulled her shirt out of her jeans on cue, showing off her stomach, eliciting whistles from both men.
“Wow,” Billy said, reaching out to touch her, but CJ slapped his hand away. He looked up sheepishly. “Okay, so, yeah, that’s hot too. I mean, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
“Yeah, man,” she said. “Chicks love it.”
“Chicks love what?”
They all turned, finding Paige standing in the doorway. CJ quickly lowered her shirt but not before she saw Paige’s eyes glued to her exposed skin. She didn’t know why she was the one blushing, but she was. Paige’s expression shifted to one of boredom as she walked away.
CHAPTER THREE
Paige methodically packed her clothes, her thoughts not on her impending role as a gym teacher. Rather, they were bouncing around, scene by scene, from a night six months ago. She had no interest in CJ Johnston romantically, of course. None at all. CJ was attractive, sure. If CJ were playing a role, she would have made a perfect female version of James Dean. She had just the right amount of rakish charm, was just enough of a rebel with that bad boy attitude to pull it off. Plus, she had brooding down to a fine art. She paused in her task, sighing as she stared off into space. Yes, CJ was very attractive, but CJ was definitely not her type. Definitely.
Which brought her back to the night she went home with CJ. What in the world had possessed her to follow CJ to her apartment? Was it the flirting mixed with tequila? Was it that she, too, wanted to forget about the case they’d just wrapped up? Or was it the needy, nearly desperate look in CJ’s eyes that had propelled her on? Perhaps a combination of things, but she could still see that haunted look on CJ’s face. A home invasion had turned into a hostage situation. Only on TV did those end well. A husband and wife, two kids—all dead at the end of the day. They had been bound and gagged and doused with gasoline. The fire took them quickly, but it was a horrific scene. When it involved kids, CJ always took it harder. She knew CJ had been abused as a child, but she didn’t know the details, just bits and pieces she’d picked up over the last three years. She and CJ weren’t friends, really, and she never thought it was her place to ask questions about it.
But that night, for some reason, she’d followed CJ to a bar. She’d kept her distance, watching from afar as CJ made the rounds. She obviously knew quite a few of the women there. Paige wondered how many of them she’d slept with. Then their eyes had met across the room. Paige had been rooted to the spot as CJ sauntered over in that distinct walk of hers, with a sexy, mischievous look on her face.
“Special Agent Riley, this is sinking a little low for you, isn’t it? Shouldn’t you be at some high-dollar bar sipping martinis?”
Paige smiled at the memory. It was the one and only time she’d set foot in that bar. Her wine was quickly replaced with a shot of Patrón tequila and CJ had pulled a chair close to her, her eyes dancing as she shamelessly flirted with her. It was a game they played and played quite well. Ice and Billy expected it of them now.
Only that night, Ice and Billy were nowhere to be found. Nonetheless, they slipped into their roles, moving past the verbal flirting when CJ had boldly touched her, her hands moving with a purpose between her thighs. Paige had been stunned by CJ’s bravado but was more surprised by her own reaction. Instead of pushing CJ away, knowing she had crossed the line, she parted her thighs invitingly, feeling a thrill as those hands moved higher. She had been shocked by how aroused she was. Shocked that she hadn’t wanted those hands to stop. It was then, looking into CJ’s eyes that she saw it—a desperate need for contact, for physical intimacy. She told herself to stop, to get up and leave, to run. And fast. But she couldn’t look away—couldn’t pull away—not even when CJ leaned closer, her lips brushing against her mouth teasingly. Instead, she turned her head, finding CJ, their first tentative kiss deepening quickly, her mouth opening, allowing CJ inside.
The rest was a complete blur. CJ’s hands finishing their trek between her thighs, the wetness she couldn’t hide from CJ, the soft moan she heard—hers—as CJ’s fingers rubbed against the seam of her jeans, pressing intimately against her. Then they were up and walking, hands clasped, hurrying outside. She had been in a daze as she listened to CJ’s directions to her apartment, surprised to find herself following CJ, too aroused to come out of her stupor.
They didn’t speak. Not one word. CJ closed the door behind her, then pinned her against it, her hands making quick work of the jeans Paige wore. Shaken—dazed—Paige found herself helping CJ undress her, found herself grabbing CJ’s hand and bringing it inside her panties, the desperate need now hers, not CJ’s. She barely registered CJ’s fingers on her, inside her. Her orgasm was hard and quick, and she bit down on CJ’s shoulder to keep from screaming out. Then CJ led her to her bedroom, closing the door to the world as they fell together. How many hours they were there, she no longer knew. Sleep came intermittently, the sex between them thrilling and exhausting, electrifying and exhilarating all at the same time.
S
he had slipped out of CJ’s arms and out of her bed, gathering her clothes quietly while CJ slept. It wouldn’t do for her to still be there when CJ woke. What would they say? How could it be explained?
She drove home, once again feeling like she was in a fog, her thoughts muddled, confused. And for the next week, maybe two, she and CJ avoided each other, speaking only when necessary. If the guys noticed—which surely they did—they never mentioned it. Then another case came around, giving them something to focus on and little by little, she and CJ reverted back to what they were accustomed to. The gentle flirting over beers with the guys looking on, the teasing, the taunts. Things got back to normal. Never once in the last six months had they mentioned the night they’d spent together. Truth was, they’d never once been alone together. By choice or coincidence, she wasn’t sure.
Now, they were heading off to Hoganville—alone.
As a couple.
Pretending to be lovers.
CHAPTER FOUR
“They’re acting really weird,” Billy whispered. “I wish you’d ask CJ what’s going on.”
Ice watched Paige and CJ as they headed off to Howley’s office for their last briefing. “If you want to know so bad, why don’t you ask her?”
“She’s your partner.”
Ice absently rubbed his head, still not used to the smoothness of it. “Then ask Paige,” he said.
“You don’t ask Paige stuff like that. She’s...well, reserved.”
“Reserved? Just because her family has more money than God doesn’t mean she’s reserved,” he said. “You’ve been partners for four years, man.”
“She’s not like us. You can’t just ask her stuff like that.”
“Well, then, what do you think is going on with them?” Ice had his own suspicions, but he would never voice them to Billy. He long ago suspected that, like them, CJ had her own little crush on the lovely Paige Riley. And in CJ’s mind, she was nowhere close to the same league as Paige. Paige grew up in a mansion, CJ in a mobile home. Maybe CJ was afraid it would become known—her little crush—now that they had to play the part of a lesbian couple. Of course, that didn’t explain Paige’s actions. The two women had been blatantly avoiding each other ever since Howley gave them the assignment four days ago.