Читать книгу Man Of Action - Janie Crouch - Страница 10

Chapter Two

“She has secrets, Steve. Something she’s not telling people.”

Steve had already excused Andrea from his office and had told her—much to Brandon’s vexation—to go pack for the trip to Buckeye.

“We all have secrets.” Steve had moved himself back behind his desk. Evidently time for neutral ground was over. Steve was reaffirming that he was in charge.

“Do you know what they call her around here?”

Steve raised one eyebrow.

“‘The ice queen.’ She never talks to anyone, never engages anyone. Nobody knows anything about her.”

“Just because she’s not the life of the party makes her an ice queen? I thought better of you, Han.”

Brandon didn’t know why he felt the need to so quickly defend himself, but he did. “Not me. I didn’t say that or think it, nor any of our inner group. It’s just what I’ve heard some other people say.”

“She’s damn good at what she does. Next time someone wants to talk trash about her because she’s not all touchy-feely, you be sure to tell them that.”

“We all know she’s good. She’s a natural reader. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Brandon held a PhD in interpersonal communication and still couldn’t read people’s expressions and body language to the extent Andrea could.

“But?”

“No buts about that. All I’m saying is she has secrets.”

“She has a past, Brandon. We all do. Hers is a little more bleak than most of ours. If she’s got secrets it’s because she wants to not live in that past.”

Brandon had to admit there was nothing wrong with that.

“I know it hurt you when David didn’t tell you about his cancer. To find out then lose him so quickly was tough. It was for all of us.”

Brandon got up out of his chair and walked over to the window. “I want to say this isn’t about David, but of course that’s not true.”

“I know he was your best friend too, Brandon.”

Brandon nodded without turning around. David had been his best friend since long before they worked together at Omega. David had been his anchor when the darkness of wandering inside the minds of killers had become too much.

“Andrea’s the top person for this case, just like you’re the top person for this case. There’s somebody out there murdering young women and he needs to be stopped before he kills again.”

Brandon knew Steve was right.

“Andrea’s young, only twenty-three,” Steve continued. “She’s unsure about her abilities and where she fits in here.”

Twenty-three? Something inside Brandon eased. She was young. Brandon was only thirty-one, but twenty-three seemed like a lifetime ago. He’d been more unsure about himself then too, so he couldn’t blame her.

“You know me, Steve. I like having all the facts going into anything. She’s an unknown variable and it gets my hackles up.”

“I know some of what she keeps to herself, and although I am not at liberty to share, what I know about her makes me respect her more, not less. But some of her secrets she’s never shared with me. May not have shared them with anyone. That’s her choice.”

Brandon nodded. As Steve said, everyone had secrets.

“She’s damn good at her job and she’ll help you find that killer.”

Brandon ran a hand over his face. “Okay, you’re right. I’ll go pack.”

“Han, thank you,” Steve said as Brandon turned for the door. “I know this isn’t easy.”

“Like you said, the important thing is getting the killer off the street.”

“Going back to that town is not going to be easy for her. I’d appreciate if you’d just keep an eye out for her emotional well-being.”

“Anything in particular I should know about?”

Steve shrugged. “It’s where she grew up. Faster than most, I would venture.”

Somehow Brandon got the feeling there was a huge chunk of information Steve was leaving out, but he let it slide. “Okay, I’ll keep an eye out for her as best I can. Is that it?”

“Actually, no.”

Brandon didn’t even try to refrain from rolling his eyes. “There’s more?”

“It’s probably nothing, but I wanted to make you aware of it.” Steve’s tone had turned from concerned to downright serious.

Brandon walked back toward his desk. “Okay.”

“Damian Freihof escaped from federal custody thirty-six hours ago.”

Brandon filtered his mind for the information, finding it. “He was the guy who planned to blow up those people in that bank in Phoenix, right? What, three years ago?”

“Four. We also think he was responsible for two other bombings, but we weren’t able to prove it.”

“Do you suspect he’s in Buckeye?”

“No. But like you said, the bank he tried to blow up was in Phoenix, pretty close by. He blames Andrea for his arrest.”

“Why? Was she even there?”

“She was there, and she was the one who led to his capture, although she was not in law enforcement at the time.”

Yeah, because at the time she would’ve been nineteen years old, if Brandon’s math was correct.

“Did you tell Andrea about his escape?”

Steve’s hesitation was minuscule, fleeting. Brandon would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been trained to see it. “No, we chose not to tell her. When Freihof went to prison, Andrea was not yet working for us. Plus with two life sentences we didn’t figure he would be getting out until he was at least eighty. He escaped during a transfer.”

“You think keeping her out of the loop is wise?”

Steve shrugged. “Freihof was mad at pretty much everyone during his case and sentencing, so we didn’t—and still don’t—give his threats against Andrea much credence. We’re not even sure how he got Andrea’s name since she wasn’t involved in his arrest or trial, but I doubt he’s after her now. All she really did was let us know there was a third man in the bank. I don’t think she had any idea he planned to blow everyone up and that her info thwarted his attempt.”

Another secret. Another potential problem.

“All right.” Brandon nodded. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for any extra psychos while we’re chasing down our current one.”

Steve smiled. “Remember, she’s not an agent, just a full-time consultant. She has some physical training, but not nearly as much as you do.”

“Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Steve shook Brandon’s hand. “Good hunting. Keep me posted.”

Brandon nodded and headed toward the door. This was already more complicated than Brandon liked it. And he knew it was just going to get worse.

* * *

BRANDON’S ARRIVAL AT the Colorado Springs Airport three hours later to discover the flight to Phoenix had been delayed due to mechanical issues did not make him feel any better about the start of this case. They were flying commercial since the two Omega jets were occupied with other missions.

Andrea showed up, still looking chic and cool in her skirt and blouse. The ice queen. Brandon wondered if she ever let herself get rumpled. His fingers literally itched with the desire to be the one who did it.

Rumpling Andrea Gordon was such a bad idea.

Brandon had noticed her around Omega for years—it was difficult not to notice someone who looked like Andrea—but he’d been very careful not to allow himself to study her. Not to try to figure out what made her tick and what made her smile or frown. With two advanced degrees in human behavior and communication, not to mention one in law, figuring people out was what Brandon did.

But with Andrea that had seemed a dangerous path to start down.

Then for the past year he’d been so involved in his own issues—David’s death, learning how to work alone—that his attraction for Andrea had gotten pushed to the back burner. But now it was sitting down next to him in the airport chair, unavoidable.

“Hello.” She smiled briefly at him. “Ready for this?”

Andrea wanted to be professional. Everything about her suggested it, from her prim clothes, to her tasteful makeup, to her perfect hair. Brandon would answer in kind. Professional was better for both of them.

He nodded. “Not quite up to speed yet, but getting there. We’re scheduled to meet with the Phoenix and Buckeye police tomorrow. Evidently Buckeye’s department isn’t equipped to handle a homicide investigation, so Phoenix is helping out.”

“Buckeye is small. They don’t get many serial killers.”

“Let’s hope we can stop this one before he kills again.”

He found her studying him as he took some files out of his briefcase, her expression a little bemused. “What?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “You’re just...complicated.”

Brandon’s eyes narrowed. Quite the interesting observation. “Why do you say that?”

She shrugged. “Most people only have one or maybe two main emotions transpiring inside them at the same time. You have more.” Her lips pursed. “And they’re complex.”

He did have more. Brandon knew that about himself. Knew that he compartmentalized in order to be able to get more done, to think about different things without actually dwelling on them.

It was part of what made him a good profiler. His subconscious brain was able to continue to work on certain aspects of a case while his conscious brain focused on something entirely different. Part of it was his own natural ability and intelligence. Part of it came from years of training his brain to do what he wanted.

He also had darkness in him. He could admit that, too. A side of him that knew he could use his intellect and training and experience to commit crimes if he really wanted. And would probably never get caught. It was never too far from the surface, although he never shared it with anyone.

Brandon had never had someone—especially someone who didn’t really know him well—sense the complexity of the emotions inside him. It was disconcerting, particularly because he didn’t want her to be able to read him so well.

“Oh.” Andrea looked away from him.

“What?”

“Annoyance just swamped out pretty much everything else.” She folded her hands in her lap and looked at them.

She thought he was annoyed with her, when really his annoyance stemmed from not having as much control over expressing his emotions as he thought he had. That was the problem with naturals, with people who were just gifted behavioral analysts rather than those who had studied human psychology and nonverbal communication to become experts. The naturals could read the emotions but couldn’t always figure out the context.

“Let’s just focus on the case, okay?” He handed her a bundle of files. “We pretty much need to be completely familiar with all of this before we meet with the locals tomorrow.”

Andrea grimaced. “Okay.”

So she didn’t like to do her homework. She wouldn’t get far solving cases without it. No amount of skill reading people could offset having a good understanding of the particulars of a case.

Brandon began reading through the files. He often found that insight came after the third or fourth read-through, rarely the first.

It didn’t take him long to realize Andrea wasn’t reading. She was looking at the photographs—the postmortem shots of the women as well as the crime-scene photos—but not actually reading any of the information that went along with them.

When she slipped on headphones and began listening to music or whatever, Brandon felt his irritation grow. Did she need a sound track to make it more interesting? Was death not enough?

Brandon knew different people processed information different ways. Some of his best friends at Omega often got insight on a case while in a workout room or in the middle of hand-to-hand sparring with someone. He should cut Andrea some slack. If she wanted to listen to music and just study the pictures, that was her prerogative.

But damn if it didn’t piss him off. It didn’t happen often, but she had fooled him. Who would’ve guessed that under the professional clothes and standoffish attitude rested the heart of a slacker. Brandon took a deep breath and centered himself. It wasn’t his fault or his problem if she lacked motivation and self-discipline.

He’d told Steve he preferred to work alone. It looked as if, despite Andrea’s attractive packaging, he’d be getting his wish.