by Stone, Mary
Then it came back to her that the grunts and explosions of sounds coming from her mouth occasionally had had words buried in them, and she blushed, considering some of the more choice phrases she’d used.
She swiped at her face with the back of her hand, and that’s when she nosed the blood. Her nose was bleeding, more than a little. Dammit. She reached for the tissue she kept on her person at all times to staunch the flow, but her hands were clumsy with the boxing gloves.
No wonder the other men and women were watching her carefully, as if she were an explosion waiting to happen.
Gritting her teeth, she ignored them, and they eventually went back to lifting round leaden weights and running on conveyor belts. Winter stood long enough to catch her breath, and a part of her marveled that the bag had withstood as much punishment as it had with no sign of damage.
That seemed unfair, considering how her fists and forearms still vibrated from her efforts. She remembered a scene in a movie where the hero punched holes in the heavy, thick canvas. Or maybe the one where the bag went flying off the chain. She decided the workout would definitely have been more satisfying if the bag had, at the very least, ruptured.
In between breaths, a new thought occurred to her, one at odds with the severe professionalism she’d worked so long and hard to achieve.
I don’t need to be assigned to the case.
For a moment, she couldn’t breathe at all. She walked calmly to where she’d stashed her water bottle as she turned this over in her mind. I still have access to files under my own name. I can look into the evidence and work this on my own. Just so long as I keep my own little personal investigation hidden.
She pulled the cord to the right glove with her teeth and shook her hand till the glove fell. She freed her left hand in a similar way and bundled the gloves together before taking a long drink. She could feel the water all the way down, crisp and cool.
I can do it. No one needs to know.
Excited now, Winter grabbed her towel, dabbed at her nose, and headed for the showers. A hot shower, a quick bite of toast, and the afternoon should go reasonably well. If nothing else, she could hold on to the cool and collected agent persona, and that would make it easier to prowl undetected in areas she wasn’t supposed to be in.
She paused in the doorway and turned in silent farewell to the bag and the many victims of her rage it represented. For a wild giddy moment, she wondered if maybe it would be best to leave all that there, to allow the ghosts to wander the gym unmolested. Wasn’t that what a professional would do?
No, it was what they would have her do.
I can’t. I can’t let this go any more than I can stop breathing. I’m not ready to forget. I can’t do that to you, Justin. You still need me.
By the time she got into the shower, the hot water only seemed to strengthen her resolve. The energy was burned off, and she felt more able to face the day, but she wasn’t about to sit back and idly let the case go forward without her.
She needed to get in this. For that scared little boy she remembered outside of her parents’ door. For her. Justin deserved better, and so did she.
And she couldn’t do anything if she was bogged down in shit work for the Bureau.
Once she was toweled off, Winter braided her hair neatly and dressed in the fresh clothes she kept in her locker. Within ten minutes, she was heading back to her desk.
She stopped when Max called her name. “Come to my office.” When she didn’t move, he added, “Now.”
Winter swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
Dread crawled over her skin like a spider as he shut his door behind her.
“Winter, we have a problem.”
It seemed her little outburst in the gym had already made its way to his ears. And just like that, Max put her on a leave of absence.
“For how long?”
His gaze was softer this time. “Until I tell you to come back.”
3
Aiden Parrish picked up the file again. As the Supervisory Special Agent of the bureau’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, he was expected to be right most of the time. If there was a time for him to be wrong, this was that time.
The problem was simple…he knew he wasn’t wrong. He knew it in his bones and out in every direction. The problem was he didn’t want to be right. Winter was a friend, even if their friendship took a strain now and again. That friendship meant something to him.
How would you feel if your long-lost brother was suddenly identified as a serial killer?
How was a person even supposed to imagine such a thing? The very idea was too foreign a concept, yet it was the very issue that Winter was now facing. That kind of thing had to mess with a person in ways one could hardly imagine.
The problem was that Aiden was only able to go so far with his concern. In his position, being too familiar with another agent was a bad idea with capital letters. Not to mention that it would be wise to take Noah Dalton, Winter’s fellow agent and boyfriend, into consideration. Aiden didn’t know if Noah was the jealous type, but since he was armed and trained to take people down…it was better to err on the side of caution.
He closed the file without looking at it, tapping the spine on his empty palm and grinding his teeth together. His analysis was spot-on, the profile would hold up, but interfering with another agent, that was new territory for him. He wasn’t so sure about the steps involved there. Still, he couldn’t do nothing. What kind of man, what kind of friend would he be if he just let it go and let the woman he’d met because of her parents’ murder fend for herself?
He dropped the file on the desk in front of him and turned to see the solution open the door to his office. Dr. Autumn Trent knocked on his doorframe as she stuck her head in. “You wanted to see me?”
He motioned for her to come in, momentarily distracted by the tall, slender redhead. She could have easily been a model, but her mind was as sharp and insightful as any he’d ever known, as evidenced in the clear green eyes she turned on him. What’s more, Autumn was a good analyst. Brainy enough to have a PhD, and canny enough to work in threat assessment, Autumn was truly a force to be reckoned with. More importantly, from what he’d observed, she was a good friend to Winter. Noah too. It only felt a little manipulative to exploit that fact.
“Have a seat, Dr. Trent.” He gestured to the worn and patched chairs on the other side of the desk. Funding in the bureau was spotty, but replacement furniture for offices was never high on the list of priorities.
Still, when Autumn sat, she brought a touch of class to the place that was sorely missing.
“Thank you for taking the time to see me today,” he added as he rose and closed the door behind her. He ignored the raised eyebrow and hitched one hip onto the corner of his desk.
“You said it was about Winter,” Autumn prompted. She shot a look at the closed door. “A private matter, I take it?”
“I did, and it is.” He reached out to pick up the folder again. “I’ve been going over the file on Justin, her brother.”
“Are you going to tell me that you were wrong?” Autumn asked, a note of hope creeping into her voice. “Because I have to tell you, I would be relieved enough that I wouldn’t even give you shit about it.”
Even with her humor, he barely allowed himself to smile. “I wish I was. It would make things a hell of a lot easier if I were. Unfortunately…” he half shrugged, “it is what it is. Which leads to the problem. I’m worried about Winter.”
Autumn crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair. For a moment, Aiden regretted the shabbiness of the furniture. “You called me down here to tell me you were worried about Winter? Of course, you’re worried. I’m worried. We should be worried. You just told her that her long-lost brother is a murdering psychopath. What’s not to be worried about?”
“I called you down here to ask you, as a friend of a friend, to keep an eye on her. She claims to be all right, and she refused to take time off. I thought with the upcoming holidays she might w
ant to visit family. She has grandparents who she normally spends the holidays with, but in addition to her refusing to take time off, there are other…indications that she’s not taking this well.”
“Indications?” Autumn’s lip curled up. She wasn’t pleased with the assessment, though he could see in her posture, in the way her hands were folded carefully in her lap, that she was keeping her emotions under tight control. “I hardly think she’s interested in Christmas right now.”
Aiden took a deep breath. “Indications like trying to pound a heavy bag into powder. Like skipping meals and letting her work slide. Max…SAC Osbourne…is turning a blind eye, citing personal issues, and only assigning her to minutiae duties in case it could be potentially problematic for someone who…” he tried to think of a diplomatic way to continue, “someone whose head isn’t in the game.”
Autumn’s shoulders relaxed. “Sounds like he’s got a handle on this,” she said, but there was still a note of question in her voice, not to mention a few slivers of ice.
Aiden rethought how to word his thoughts. “That’s the official line, yes. It so happens that I agree with it too. But Winter is a friend. That might be tested from time to time, but a friend she remains. You and I at least have this much in common. We both want her safe, physically and emotionally, even considering her line of work.”
That, at least, seemed to mollify her a little. “I happen to agree.” She tilted her head to the side, looking at him curiously. “What do you want from me?”
Aiden shrugged. “Just…keep an eye on her. That’s all.”
Maybe he should have worded it differently. Autumn sat fully upright, her foot coming down to the floor with a bang as she uncrossed her legs and stood. “I am not going to spy on my friend for you.”
“No. I’m not asking that. I don’t want that. I’m not looking to be informed about her, I just…” He exhaled, striving to maintain his cool. “I just want you to do what I can’t. Be there for her.”
Autumn studied him closely as she sank back into the chair. At least she wasn’t leaving. “Sometimes,” she said quietly, “the best you can do is to let a friend feel her or his pain.” She inhaled deeply, her normal sardonic smile and the flash in her eyes gone. “Seeing a friend hurting sucks, but it’s better to see them hurt and get through it than to protect them from reality. Are you prepared to never see her not in pain?”
Aiden blinked. “Meaning?”
Autumn smiled, the light in her eyes returning, though slowly. “Meaning that the best thing I can do for her is to leave her alone and trust that she’ll be all right.”
“And if she calls you for help?”
Autumn’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “I’ll drop whatever I’m doing and rush to her side. That’s what friends do,” she replied primly, her tone offended.
Aiden spread his arms. “That’s all I’m asking. Just to be there for her until she gets her feet under her again.”
“You didn’t need to drag me down here for that,” Autumn practically growled and shook her head. Her gaze was almost uncomfortable in its intensity.
She really was beautiful. It was odd how he tended to forget that until seeing her again. That’s a lie, you never forget how beautiful she is.
“You asked me into your office for a reason. I suspect you’re looking for more than a casual favor.”
“I would like to know how she’s doing. How she’s holding up. You’re in a better position to know those things right now than I am.”
“I told you,” Autumn’s voice took on an edge, “I will not spy on a friend for you or for Max or even for the ghost of Karl Marx.” She barked out a brittle laugh. “There you have it. I wondered when the altruism would run out. If you’re looking for dirt to put in a report, you won’t be getting it from me.”
“I don’t want you to spy!” he shot back, exasperated now. “I just want to know what’s going on.”
“What’s the difference between that and spying?” She folded her toned arms over her chest and her head tilted to one side. Less in casual study than in absolute scrutiny, as though she thought him perilously trapped.
“Because,” Aiden said through gritted teeth. “Precisely because I’m not writing a report or handing the information over to my superiors. I just want to know for me how she’s doing.”
“I notice you’re not concerned about Noah.”
“Should I be? It’s Winter’s brother who’s the killer, not his.”
Autumn had the look of someone whose joke wasn’t understood. He shook his head and shoved off the desk, tired of sitting still.
She pointed to the file. “There isn’t a possibility that’s wrong?”
“No.” Aiden shook his head. “I mean…there’s always the possibility. Noah and Bree are out there now interviewing Strickland again, maybe they can shed new light on all of this, but whatever he is, or whoever he is, we have to find him, one way or another. We have to. And when we do, that’s when Winter will need you the most.”
Autumn glanced down at her hands, idle now in her lap. “I can’t imagine what it was like for a six-year-old to find his parents dead. Can you imagine being whisked away and raised as the son of that…?” She waved her hands around, words clearly failing her.
Aiden waited while she fought some hidden internal demon. Only her eyes moved for a long time.
Finally, she looked up, sighing as she answered. “All right, all right, but only for a short while.” She waggled a finger at him. “But I am not spying on her.”
“Still not asking you to.”
“You know I would do anything for her. You know I will be there for her.”
“I do,” Aiden admitted, “but what I didn’t know is if you would be there for me. To let me know how she’s holding up.” After a moment, he smiled and added, “And Noah too.”
That made Autumn laugh, the sound appearing to be genuine this time. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to add him in my reports too.”
Aiden retreated behind his desk and sat wearily in his chair, feeling oddly heavy despite this particular burden being lifted from him. “Thank you.”
Autumn stood and straightened her skirt. “Tell me,” she said as she headed to the door. “Why didn’t you just call her in here like you did with me and give her the ‘my door is always open if you need anything’ line?”
“It’s not a line,” he said, watching her face as it changed from curiosity to chagrin to understanding.
“Oh my god, you did, didn’t you? You already told her that.” Autumn pressed her fingertips to her temple. “You and Winter? Really?” She took a step back and nodded as if seeing something she had been looking for. “Well, I can see that. I guess I really can.”
“No.” Aiden shook his head. “Not the way you mean, no. I’m worried about a friend.”
She chuckled. “For your information, I haven’t heard much from her for a few days now.”
Aiden nodded.
She gave him a backward look as she opened the door. It was a thoughtful look with a hint of speculation that made him uncomfortable.
“What?”
She paused, her hand still on the doorknob. “Just wondering if you’re the friend you’re making out to be or if there’s a hidden agenda behind this.”
“No agenda.” He held out both hands. “Just a worried friend.”
“I think I’m choosing to believe you, Agent Parrish.” She smiled at him, closing the door behind her as she left.
Aiden stared at the door for some minutes as the scent of her perfume faded from the room. It looked even shabbier now than it had looked before she came.
“Don’t go there,” he cautioned himself and placed the file carefully on his desk again. There were other cases waiting for his attention. He’d done all he could do for now.
4
Concrete walls and floors took every click and creak and bang of steel and iron and concentrated the sounds, echoes chasing each other through the bare hallways. Manual and automat
ic gates opened and closed as Agents Dalton and Stafford checked in, relinquished their weapons, and stole deeper into the sterile tomb of a maximum-security prison.
They were led to the commons where prisoners would meet with visitors under the close supervision of the guards. They were led onward past that door, their footsteps a counterpoint to the closing and locking door behind them. The next door opened for them as they arrived, their escort falling away and leaving the rest to the guard inside the separate interrogation room.
There were four chairs set up in the room, each one bolted securely to the floor, metal monstrosities whose function was limited to causing lower back pain while being easy to keep clean.
Two chairs were behind a table, two were in front of it. Only one was occupied. A middle-aged man with thick glasses and a nervous air stood quickly to greet them.
“Agents.” He smiled as he said it, a meaty palm reaching out to the both of them, a tremulous smile creasing his face and little piggy eyes like small jewels sunk deep into the rolls of doughy looking skin.
Noah took his hand, though with some hesitation. “And you are?”
“Lionel Mathews,” the heavy man answered, grabbing his hand for one of the most unpleasant handshakes Noah had ever felt. It was wet and not unlike having a dead fish laid in his palm. “US Attorney’s Office.”
Noah pulled his hand back. The offer was given to Bree, who somehow kept a poker face throughout the greeting, though he noticed she didn’t linger over the handshake either, her dark skin a stark contrast to his paleness. Lionel looked very pleased to have held her hand, and a shadow of disappointment crossed his face as she pulled away.
“And what is the role of the US Attorney’s office here today?” Bree asked him with a smile. “I understood that this case was over, and Strickland was found guilty and given life. Was I wrong about that?”
“No, Agent Stafford, you were not wrong at all. I’m just here to ensure that if there is a retrial or other types of legal maneuvering, nothing will be seen as possible…legal…shall we say, shenanigans?”