Читать книгу Scene of the Crime: Baton Rouge - Carla Cassidy - Страница 8
ОглавлениеGeorgina awoke the next morning just after five-thirty, her mind already whirling with the horror of the nightmare that had plagued her for years.
The dream was always the same. She was in a dark, small space, her stomach growling with hunger as the scent of food drifted in the air. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t escape the dark place except by awakening.
Never one to linger in bed, by the time six o’clock arrived she was showered and dressed and in the kitchen waiting for the coffee to quit brewing.
She had thirty minutes to relax until she’d have to leave to get to the FBI offices by seven. Minutes later she sat at her table with a cup of the fresh brew in hand. As she played over the events of the day before, the last thing she could find was any kind of relaxation.
Already she felt tension riding her shoulders, a knot of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. It was bad enough that they had a complicated case where they didn’t even know if the kidnapped victims were dead or alive.
As the only woman on the task force, she felt extreme pressure to overachieve, to prove herself to be the best that she could be.
It didn’t help that Alexander had chosen to partner up with her. He reminded her of her biggest failure, not as an agent, but as a woman. She couldn’t imagine why he would make the choice he did when he could have partnered her with any other member of the task force.
She sipped her coffee and stared out the window to the tiny fenced-in backyard. She had bought this small house three months after her divorce. It had been a bargain buy, as the place had been on the market for two years.
The Realtor who had sold it to her had explained that the small size of the two-bedroom house made it unappealing to any couple planning for a family or any family looking for a home.
It was perfect for Georgina, who knew there would never be a man in her life again, who knew there would never be any children. The spare bedroom was now an office, and she’d done little to decorate other than buying utilitarian furniture and hanging a couple of cheap landscape pictures on the walls.
She took another drink of her coffee and thought of the seven missing people and the note that had been sent to headquarters. If it was real, then it held a hint of crowing, of an ego that needed to be heard.
She could only hope that the ego needed constant feeding and the perp would maintain contact. It was often through some sort of communication that they got clues and found leads to follow in difficult cases.
At exactly six-thirty she left her small house and headed into work. Although it was only a fifteen-minute drive, she’d rather be a little early than late.
As she drove, she carefully kept her thoughts away from Alex. She had no idea how the past two years might have changed him and didn’t want to remember the man he’d been when she’d walked out on him.
She’d have to walk a fine line to remain strictly on a partner level and not allow herself to fall into anything personal. She couldn’t emotionally afford to make a second mistake where he was concerned.
The Baton Rouge FBI field office was located in an unassuming two-story building nestled between a dry cleaning store and a bank. She drove around to the back of the building where there was a large parking lot and pulled into one of the empty spaces. She grabbed the file folder that had kept her up reading reports and looking at photos far too late the night before, and then left her car.
The sultry morning air pressed oppressively against her chest. Or was it just the anxiety of the case and the uncertainty of working closely with her ex-husband?
The bottom floor of the building was dedicated to computer rooms and bookkeeping; the basement held storage and a cafeteria. It was on the second floor that agents actively worked at their own desks.
This morning she passed by her neat and tidy desk to head down the hallway to the conference room that now housed the task force. The scent of fresh coffee greeted her as she stepped into the room, finding Alex and Nicholas Cutter already there.
A large coffeepot had been set up on a side table, along with several boxes of doughnuts. The cliché of law enforcement at all levels. But Georgina knew as well as anyone that the sugar rush of a doughnut and the caffeine of a hot cup of coffee often provided the energy needed to get through long hours.
She smiled at the two men as she entered and sat in the same chair she’d sat in the day before. While Nicholas looked energized and eager, Alex’s face wore the faint lines of fatigue. Like her, he’d probably been up most of the night going over the files of the previous kidnappings.
Before either of the two men had a chance to greet her, other members of the team began to arrive and soon the room was full. Once they’d all found seats, Alex eyed them with a weary resignation. “How many of you saw the news this morning that broke the story that a seven-man, one-woman task force had been formed to investigate the disappearances of FBI agents?”
“I saw it and I’d like to know who leaked it,” Frank said irritably. “We hadn’t had much publicity about these disappearances until now.”
“At least it didn’t list our names,” Jeff said.
“You know any reporter worth his salt will have our names by the end of the day,” Nicholas added.
“If I find out anyone in this room leaked anything to the press, I’ll have your job.” Alex’s voice didn’t hold a threat, but rather held a determined promise. “Now, let’s get to the updates.”
The first came from Tim and Jeff, who had spent the day before with both paper maps and working on the internet to locate vacant buildings that were isolated enough for seven people to be held captive.
“There’s dozens of places,” Tim said. “There are abandoned warehouses and old factories all over the surrounding areas and within the city.”
“We’re making a list of addresses and working through city records to find out owner names,” Jeff said. “But it’s going to take at least a week or two for us to get them all and even then there might be some places that slip through the cracks.”
“I’ll check with Director Miller and see if we can get some help from the local authorities to physically check out the places on the list you’re compiling,” Alexander said.
It wasn’t unusual for the FBI to occasionally work with the Baton Rouge Police Department when it came to a job too big for the agents to handle alone. The police would be able to cruise by the buildings and check them out in person, lightening the manpower needed for the actual footwork of the investigative end of things for the FBI.
Despite the tired lines that creased his forehead and made the small wrinkles around his eyes look deeper, Georgina couldn’t help but notice that Alex hadn’t changed much in the two years they’d been apart. His shoulders were just as broad, his stomach as flat and the air of command that emanated from him came naturally.
He was born to lead, and if it hadn’t been for the Gilmer case, he would have led most of the difficult investigations that had come along in the past couple of years. She knew he’d been asked to be lead in other cases but had declined, indicating a lack of faith in himself. She was glad he’d finally decided to step up once again.
There was no question that if she allowed it, she would be attracted to him again. All the qualities that she’d fallen in love with in the first place he still possessed. But she couldn’t allow it and besides, he’d given no indication that he wanted it.
Although there had been little change in him physically in the last two years, she had no idea what changes had occurred on the inside. The one thing she knew for sure was that nothing had changed her. She’d been wrong for him then and she’d be wrong for him again.
She tightened her fingers around the pen she held, telling herself it was vital she maintain her objectivity where he was concerned. Alex was nothing more than her partner, her immediate boss, and that’s the way it would stay for as long as they knew each other.
When Jeff and Tim had finished their report, Alex moved on to Nicholas and Frank. “We’ve got nothing,” Frank said, his brown eyes dark with frustration. “We went through social media, used Google on all the names of the missing people, used Google on the FBI agents, and nothing popped up to tie them together other than the fact that they are all agents.”
“Actually, I found something,” Nicholas said, a touch of smugness in his voice as his partner looked at him in obvious surprise. “There’s an author who has a new book out and the book includes sections about Sam Connelly, Amberly Caldwell and Jackson.”
A touch of new disdain swept through Georgina. It was obvious Nicholas had blindsided his partner, kept the information to himself so that he would get all the glory of the find. Nicholas Cutter was definitely not a team player and that was a big strike against him as far as Georgina was concerned.
“Continue,” Alexander’s voice was like a gunshot in the room.
“The author’s name is Michelle Davison and the book is titled Heinous Crimes / Men of Honor.” Nicholas sat up straighter in his chair, obviously pleased to be the center of attention. “She has a section about Sam Connelly, who was head investigator when four children were kidnapped and he successfully recovered them. Amberly Caldwell is showcased for her work on what was called the Dream Catcher murders in Mystic Lake. She also has the details of the case Jackson worked a year ago...the Twilight Killer.”
As much as Georgina hated Nicholas’s showboating, his information sent a rush of excitement through her. This was the first definitive tie they’d found among the three.
“Do we have an address for Michelle Davison?” Alexander asked.
“She lives in New Orleans, but I spoke to her literary agent last night and Michelle is set up to have a book signing right here at the Baton Rouge College bookstore at seven tonight,” Nicholas said.
“Georgina and I will attend the book signing and do an initial interview with her,” Alexander said, ignoring how Nicholas’s smile fell into a pouty frown. He’d obviously hoped to do the interview himself.
One of the agents had moved a box of doughnuts into the center of the table and Frank reached for one. “I don’t see how a woman writer could have anything to do with kidnapping seven people. There’s no way I believe we’re dealing with a female perp.” He took a bite of his doughnut and grabbed a napkin as raspberry filling fell down his chin.
“We all have to keep an open mind,” Nicholas said. “At this point we can’t know if the perp is male or female or even a team. We just don’t have enough information to make that call.”
“That’s right,” Alex answered. “Matt and Terry, anything new on your end?”
“Not yet,” Matt replied. “But we’re digging for anything we can find.”
As he continued to reaffirm assignments for the day, Georgina was already eager for the night to come. This was their first real lead and she couldn’t wait for them to follow it.
“Nicholas, get me everything you can on Michelle Davison by noon. Frank, continue to look for other connections between the missing people. Georgina, you and I are going to get the files of the cases that this author showcased in her book and see if we can figure out exactly why she chose these particular cases, these particular agents to write about.”
Georgina nodded. Catching a killer was rarely like it was shown on television, with high-speed chases and shoot-outs in dark alleys.
So much of the work to catch a killer took place in chairs, researching the victims’ lives, going through reports until you were nearly blind, searching the web for something, anything, that might burp up a clue.
Granted, they didn’t know if this particular unsub was a killer or not, but he or she was definitely a serial kidnapper and these cases would be investigated as if they were chasing a killer.
Her gaze drifted up to the bulletin board where the victims’ photos remained. Her focus was drawn to the little girl who had vanished with her parents.
Of all the people showcased on the board, Macy Connelly would be the most expendable. The seven-year-old would be of no use to the kidnapper, especially a kidnapper who claimed to be an FBI-trained serial killer.
Georgina had always loved children, but even when she’d been married she had never envisioned having any of her own. She knew what she was capable of giving and it had never been enough to be a mother.
Still, there was something that haunted her about Macy Connelly, an emotion that skewered deep into her soul. It was as if Macy might have been the daughter she and Alex would have had if Georgina had been different, if she had been whole.
She could only hope and pray that they could solve this case before something tragic happened to the agents and their spouses, before something tragic happened to the blond-haired, blue-eyed little angel who appeared to be personally pleading with Georgina for help.
* * *
THAT EVENING AT SIX-THIRTY when Alexander pulled into Georgina’s driveway and she stepped out on the porch, he was immediately sorry that he’d told her not to dress like an FBI agent, but rather as a woman attending a social function.
She walked toward the car clad in a short, green dress that he recognized as the dress she’d worn on their second date. The only difference was that she’d added a gold belt around the fitted waist.
Didn’t she buy new clothes? Did she even remember that the green dress had been one of his favorites? Probably not. Georgina wasn’t particularly sentimental. She was pragmatic and dealt only in the present. In the brief time he’d been her husband he’d realized she didn’t dwell on the past and she rarely looked to the future. She was always in the here and now, and there had been times during their marriage it had made him slightly crazy.
She opened the passenger door and slid in, gold hoop earrings dancing on her ears as the familiar scent of her perfume filled the air. She exuded a thrumming energy as she greeted him and then buckled her seat belt.
“You look nice,” he said as he backed out of her driveway.
“Thanks, so do you.”
He didn’t look all that different from what he looked like every day. The only difference was his black slacks were paired with a black-and-blue pin-striped shirt instead of the regular white dress shirt. His blazer was the same one that had been slung across the back of a chair for most of the day.
“I’m so excited,” she continued. “We’ve only been at it for a day and already a lead has come to light.”
“We don’t know how good this lead might be,” he replied in an attempt to temper her enthusiasm. “The odds that we’re going to solve these crimes tonight by attending a college bookstore autographing session are pretty minimal.”
“True, but at least it’s a place to start.” She shifted positions to face him more fully. “We’ll solve this one, Alex. We’ll solve it and save every single one of those people.”
The diminutive use of his name felt both familiar and intimate and he shoved away the wave of warmth that suffused him as he heard it. She was the only person in his life who had called him Alex. Both professionally and personally he’d always been Alexander.
“We’re a long way from a solve, but I hope your optimism plays out,” he said gruffly.
Damn her green dress and her use of Alex. The last thing he needed was to get lost in memories, in questions from the past that would splinter his attention. He needed to remain focused on the case and nothing else.
The Baton Rouge College campus was both huge and beautiful. Stately stone buildings were linked together by tree-lined sidewalks, and courtyards with benches invited students to gather for impromptu study sessions or social activities.
The bookstore was along a side street, and Alexander was surprised to discover the parking lot next to it full. He found an open curbside space about a block away and he and Georgina got out of the car to walk in the sultry evening air. “Feels more like early August than September,” Alexander said.
“It is warm. Looks like she’s drawn quite a crowd,” Georgina said.
“Murder and mayhem always sell well,” Alexander replied with a touch of disgust.
Georgina shot him a quick smile. “You can’t blame people for being interested in the same things we are. If the readers who buy these kinds of books are freaks, then that makes you and me super freaks.”
Alexander laughed, knowing that she was right. Neither of them would be where they were if they weren’t drawn to the dark side of humanity.
He fought the impulse to place his hand at the center of her back as they walked side by side, as he used to do. It had always been a proprietary touch and he hadn’t had that right for two years.
Focus, he thought as they entered the door to the busy bookstore. This job was his chance to stanch the nightmares of failure that played over and over again in his head. He was haunted by a single dead young woman; he couldn’t imagine seven people haunting him if he didn’t get this job done right.
Alexander estimated Michelle Davison to be in her mid-thirties. She was an attractive blonde with blue eyes and appeared to be greeting her fans with genuine warmth and friendliness.
There was a long line before her, and as he and Georgina fell into the line, he also noted the man who stood just behind the table where Michelle sat.
Tall and muscular, although he was neatly dressed in slacks and a short-sleeved white shirt, he looked like a thug. A tattoo rode the side of his neck and others crept up his muscled arms. Boyfriend? Bodyguard? Partner in crime?
Alexander couldn’t help the suppositions that raced through his mind. His plan was to buy a book, chat like a customer and then once the signing was over have a more in-depth discussion with the author.
“I didn’t expect this kind of crowd,” he said, leaning closer to Georgina.
“I checked her out before you picked me up. This is her fifth crime book and she’s grown quite popular,” Georgina replied. “You think the guy behind her is her agent?” she asked dryly.
Alexander flashed a tight smile. “I’ve heard that literary agents are tough, especially those from New York City.”
A small laugh escaped Georgina and the sound pooled warmth in the pit of his stomach. It had been over two years since he’d heard the sound of her husky laugh.
He averted his gaze from her and instead focused on the other people inside the store. It was possible the very man they sought was right here in the room, eager to buy a book about the people he’d kidnapped.
Or perhaps Michelle took her research to a whole new level and she and the mountain man behind her were responsible for the disappearances of the FBI agents. It would make one hell of a publicity stunt.
His stomach knotted. Could that be what this was all about? Surely not. He hadn’t seen any publicity concerning the missing FBI agents and the book that was being sold. The various departments involved had been playing the details of each case close to their vests.
As far as Alexander knew, no reporter had tied them all together to come up with a serial kidnapper at work. Until this morning, when it was reported that a task force had been formed. He’d like to get his hands around the neck of whoever had leaked that information.
He glanced at Georgina and noticed that she was perusing the crowd with narrowed eyes. She was probably thinking the same thing he was, that the perp might very well be right here in this room, eager to buy a book about the people he held captive. Hopefully the author they were about to meet would have some answers.
He breathed a sigh of relief as finally there was only one person in line before they’d be at the author’s table.
“Professor Tanner,” Michelle greeted the man in front of them warmly. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Now, how could I miss such a special event for one of my best students?” the tall, well-built man replied.
“You’re part of the reason I’m where I am,” Michelle said as she signed a book for him. “Your classes were always so fascinating.”
“Thank you. Let’s hope there continue to be plenty of students who enjoy my classes.” He took the book she’d signed for him and then Alexander and Georgina stood before the author’s table.
“Hello, would one or both of you like a book autographed?” Michelle asked with a bright smile.
“I’d like one,” Georgina said. “You can just sign it to Georgina.”
“And we’d both like to have a little chat with you when this is all over this evening.” Alexander pulled his official identification from his pocket and placed it on the table. To hell with the idea of pretending to be a fan, he thought. He just wanted to cut to the chase.
Michelle looked at it and then at him with a faint alarm on her pretty features. Alexander quickly tucked his identification away.
“Can we talk someplace other than here?” she asked. “I’d rather not have any of my readers know that the FBI is questioning me about anything.”
“There’s a coffee shop about three blocks from here at the corner of Magnolia and Mission Road,” he said.
She nodded. “I know the place.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “I’ll be here for another half an hour or so. Shall we meet there in about an hour?”
She appeared curious and a bit apprehensive, but not particularly scared or guilty. Alexander was eager to question her and find out what, if any, role she might have played in the crimes. “Make sure you’re there. Otherwise we’ll find you someplace where it might be less private.”
“I’ll be there,” she replied, her lips morphing into a thin line as she turned her attention to Georgina. “Did you really want a book?”
“Yes.”
Michelle quickly signed the book and handed it to Georgina. “I hope you enjoy it,” she said as if by rote.
The two of them left the table, paid for the book and then exited the still-busy bookstore. It wasn’t until they were back in Alexander’s car and headed to the coffee shop that Georgina spoke.
“So, thoughts?” she asked.
“I have several. My first thought is what a great publicity stunt it would be for the three agents she wrote about in her book to suddenly go missing.”
He felt Georgina’s gaze lingering on him, could almost hear the wheels churning in her head. “It would be a great publicity stunt, but there’s been nothing in the news until this morning to let people know that we’ve determined that the missing FBI agents are tied together.”
“Odd, though, that the news broke on the morning of her book signing.” He glanced over to her, noting how pretty she looked in the faint glow of the dashboard lights.
“Odd, or coincidental,” she agreed. “Nobody in the crowd caught my eye as looking particularly suspicious. Even Michelle didn’t look overly worried or guilty when you showed her your identification and said we needed to talk to her.”
“I guess we’ll have a better feel for her after questioning her,” he replied as they pulled up in front of the coffee shop.
They grabbed one of the tall tables in the back where they would have a little more privacy, although there were few people in the place. Most of the college students would frequent the coffee shop throughout the day, but on a Saturday night they would all have better places to be.
“Sit tight. I’ll go get us some coffee,” he said. She sat on one of the tall stools and opened the book she’d bought as he headed for the counter.
“I’d like a medium black coffee and a medium caffe mocha, hold the whipped cream.” He was vaguely surprised that what had been Georgina’s favorite drink rolled effortlessly off his tongue after all this time. He wasn’t even sure if she still drank what he’d just ordered for her.
He paid for the drinks and grabbed them, and as he turned to face her, he immediately knew something was horribly wrong. She had her cell phone at her ear.
Her face was the pale shade of death, but her eyes were huge and darted at him frantically. He raced to the table at the same time she set her cell phone down with a hand that visibly shook.
“Georgina, what happened? Who was on the phone?” He set the cups down and reached for her hand. Her icy-cold fingers grabbed onto his and held tight.
“It was him.” Her voice whispered from her. “He said he was the person we were hunting.” She drew a deep breath, some of the color returning to her cheeks as she disengaged her hand from his and instead curled her fingers around the warm cup in front of her.
“Are you sure it wasn’t some sort of a prank phone call?” he asked.
Her green eyes held a faint tinge of fear as she slowly shook her head. “He said he’d be in touch again and that Macy told me to get a good night’s sleep, that I was going to need my rest if I was going to save her.”
Myriad emotions rose up inside Alexander, questions about if the call had really come from the man they sought and when he might make contact again. More importantly, why out of all the task force members had he connected with Georgina? His stomach clenched tight.
Did this mean that Georgina was in danger?
