01 A Cold Dark Place (11 page)

The guy
had feelings for her—why hadn’t he seen that? Because he’d been dazzled himself, and trying to make sure he didn’t end up under arrest for Murder One. “Send me the cell data, Lucas, but I’m not promising anything.”

“Thanks buddy.”

“Yeah, a buddy who’s not good enough to date your so-called friend,” he muttered.

“It’s not like that—”

“You just keep telling yourself that.” Alex disconnected. Three seconds later he watched Mallory pick up her cell phone. Her face lit up with a grin—Lucas. Jealousy smacked him in the head like a sledgehammer. Pissed with himself Alex turned off the laptop and headed out into the night. He didn’t want to hear what Lucas Randall said about him on the phone, but this was exactly the sort of conversation he needed to monitor. He’d listen to it later, when his head was fixed on straight.

It took several hours and was well after midnight by the time he’d compiled all the
information he needed. Wearing latex gloves to handle the paper and envelope, he printed out the information and used one of a series of false identities to have the package couriered to Mallory’s work the next day. He might never be anything but a blurry memory to her, but maybe he could ease her burden just a little. He needed all the chances of redemption he could get.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

B
y Friday afternoon Mallory had spent most of the week reading case files and calling various police departments to talk to homicide detectives, sheriff deputies and medical examiners until her jaw ached. She’d doubled up on each phone call by asking about any unreported cases of child abduction fifteen to twenty years ago, never knowing when she might catch a break.

She didn’t catch a break
.

She looked up and realized she was all alone in the space she
usually shared with eight other agents. They’d all gone to meetings and she was left whistling Dixie. She glanced around. It was empty. No one was here.

Her pulse
pounded loudly in her ear.

The real reason for her being here flashed through her mind, followed by butterflies in the pit of her stomach
that launched themselves into the air like vultures. The hum of the heating system and murmur of far-off voices drifted from a long way away. She climbed to her feet and eyed the desks closest to her. Moira Henderson or Felicia Barton? Henderson was Danbridge’s crony so she tackled her first.

She went over and
searched through the drawers. Handcuffs, ammo, staplers, post-it notes, a broken crucifix—nothing useful. There were photographs stuck to Henderson’s cubicle walls—a family portrait with a couple of kids. Mallory checked her shoulder when she heard footsteps but they disappeared behind the bang of a door. There was a stack of file folders on the left-hand side of Henderson’s desk. Mallory peeked in the first one and saw a photograph of herself and some of her personnel files. Holy crap, the woman had a file on her.

The fine hair on
the nape of her neck stood taut as she heard another door being opened and closed out in the corridor. Quickly, she looked in the next file and saw background information on Edgar Meacher. Footsteps came closer and Mallory tiptoed back to her desk, heart drilling her ribcage as Special Agent Henderson walked in the room.

The woman’s suspicious gaze
flicked over her but Mallory could no more meet her eyes than she could juggle potted plants. Henderson went back to her desk and picked up the phone. Did she suspect the real reason Mallory had been reassigned? Why have a file on Meacher?

Of course, Meacher was the sort of killer she investigated on a daily basis, so why wouldn’t she have a file on Meacher?

Paranoid much?

Dark-haired Agent
Barton wandered in carrying a Fed-ex box. “It’s for you, Rooney. Mailroom checked it for suspicious substances but said it was clean. No one is trying to kill you—yet.” The other agent handed it over with a smirk. Mallory sent her a smile of thanks, but it was rejected. The woman stared at her thoughtfully. Henderson said something and Barton moved on. Mallory shuddered. And these people were supposed to be on her side?

Thanks, SSA Hanrahan.

The box was about three-inches deep and when she opened it what she saw shocked her. Printouts of old newspaper articles about child abductions in West Virginia, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Virginia and Kentucky, dating back twenty-five years.

Who the hell knew she was looking into this stuff?

Agent Frazer had given her the idea at Monday morning’s meeting, but she hadn’t told anyone...except every law enforcement office she’d spoken to over the last five days. Plus anyone in the office could have overheard her inquiries. She scratched her head. Someone had done her a huge favor, she just wished she knew who it was, and their motive. She looked for return information, saw an address in DC. She’d see if she could track down a name.

She put the box on the floor to take home tonight. Her whole weekend had just been shaped
by some unnamed source and she wasn’t sure she liked it. Leaning back in her chair she gazed at the map she’d pinned to her cubicle wall. It showed the locations where the young women were believed to have been snatched and where their bodies were found. Her gaze was drawn back to the home state where she’d spent the first ten years of her life. Her father’s family estate, Eastborne, in Colby, West Virginia.

After Payton
’s abduction she’d been forced to attend boarding school in DC, but she’d spent several of her summers back there, missing Payton, hanging out with Lucas and his sisters who lived nearby. She hadn’t been back much since college. Virginia Tech, then Harvard Law School. For the last two years her career had been her top priority and time off was scarce. What little vacation time she did get, she spent in DC seeing both her parents at the same time. Despite the divorce they got on well. In fact, her father wanted them all to go up to Eastborne for Christmas one last time and then he was putting the place on the market.

The idea saddened her even though she never wanted to live there. The ties that bound her to that beautiful old house were deep
as mine shafts and strong as steel, but it was a shame for such a gorgeous house to remain empty except for the housekeeper most of the year around.

Her eyes flickered over the map. One of the latest serial killer
’s victims was from Greenville, only fifteen miles from Colby.

Her phone beeped with a text from her mother about dinner over the weekend.
She sent her a quick reply to say she’d think about it, then stared at the screen on her phone. The fact she’d saved Alex’s text from last Friday night showed how truly pathetic she was. For the hundredth time, her finger hovered over the keypad to ask him if his crisis was sorted. The urge had her shaking her head with frustration. She put the phone in her pocket. She didn’t have time for a relationship even though she really wanted to see him again.

“
Problem?”

She jumped an inch
off her chair and her heart did a triple salchow. “No, sir.”

Frazer stared at her the way an eagle eyed a mouse, wondering if it was worth the bother. The guy still looked pristine whereas she
’d managed to spill coffee on her white shirt and whatever make-up she’d applied that morning was long gone. From his expression, she was beginning to suspect the spinach salad she’d had for lunch might be stuck between her front teeth. She swept her tongue around her mouth but didn’t feel anything except enamel.

A small smile touched the corner of his mouth and she narrowed her gaze.

Oh, he was definitely psyching her out.

Special Agents
Barton and Henderson came across to her desk to heckle.

“
Any luck with other law enforcement agencies?”

“
Not yet, but I’ve still got a lot of calls in and I started on some of the adjoining states.”

He nodded sharply.
“Good. What do you make of the geographic profile?” He pointed at the map that she’d pinned to her wall.

Mallory frowned.
“There’s a pretty wide spread area, but a heavy concentration in Virginia suggests that’s his comfort zone.” She indicated the middle zone of the dots.

“
You remember that from the academy, Rooney?” Barton asked.

“
Considering she’s barely out of it, she should.” Henderson didn’t bother to hide her contempt but Frazer didn’t try to defend her.

Mallory squared her shoulders. Before she could open her mouth, Frazer interrupted.
“I’m taking that drive up to Greenville, West Virginia, on Monday. That’s near where you grew up, correct, Rooney?”

She nodded.

“I want you to accompany me”—Mallory’s mouth dropped open in shock—“I should warn you we will also be visiting the Medical Examiner’s Office in Manassas to view bodies of three of the victims before they’re released for burial.”

“
I’ve witnessed a few autopsies, but thank you for the heads-up—”

“
I thought I was going with you for that.” Henderson cut in. Her expression was tight. Appalled.

The excitement
at the idea of a road-trip plummeted.

“
You’ve made me all too aware of how under-qualified Agent Rooney is, Agent Henderson. So she can accompany me as a second pair of eyes and gain experience.” He kept a straight face but Mallory had no doubt he was putting the other agent in her place for being such a bitch. It didn’t mean he liked her any more than Henderson did but it sure as heck made Mallory feel better. “Plus, Agent Rooney has personal experience of West Virginia that you don’t have.” He cocked a brow. “Correct?”

Chastened, the other agent nodded.

“We leave here at eight AM sharp, don’t be late.” He gave Mallory a stiff nod and walked away.

She watched Henderson inhale so massively she thought the woman
’s lungs might burst. Then she turned on her heel and strode away. Barton watched her with an odd light in her eyes, like she’d just had a few of her fundamental ideals flipped on their heads.
Welcome to the club.
Then she also turned and walked away.

Mallory refrained from fist pumping and instead got everything together she might need for
the weekend. This was fantastic. She’d hopefully be able to add something concrete to the investigation, even if it was only breaking the ice with local law enforcement personnel who’d be happier dealing with one of their own than an “outsider” from Virginia. It probably made her sick to be excited by this latest killer carving “PR” into his victims but it was the closest thing she’d had to a lead in her sister’s case in years. And it was still spider web thin. She grabbed her laptop, coat, mysterious box, and headed into the frigid night toward the parking lot. It was dark. Theoretically the traffic shouldn’t be too heavy as she did the opposite commute to most of drivers in the DC area; somehow theory never made it into practice.

She strode past row-upon-row of cars and eventually found hers where she
’d left it near the edge of the forest. She opened the passenger door and dumped her belongings on the front seat. Then she strode around the trunk, noticing the car sat at an odd angle.

She had not just one flat tire, but two.
Dammit
. Frustration made her want to howl but that never looked good. She stiffened as Special Agent Henderson rolled slowly by in her SUV. The woman lowered her window. “Problem?” she asked.

Mal put her hands on her hips.
“No problem.”

With a smirk the other woman drove away. Had Henderson done this to her car?
FBI agents were notorious for playing pranks on one another but this held malice rather than fun. A shiver of unease swept over her shoulder blades and she glanced toward the forest.

Don
’t be stupid, Mal, you’re surrounded by the US Marine Corps.
Like she needed to invent imaginary foes when she had a whole rack of real ones to choose from.

Mallory pulled out her cell phone and dialed her recovery company. After she hung up she stood there staring at Alex
’s text message.

She typed,
“Hope emergency all sorted. Thanks for Friday night.” It seemed trite and insufficient but she was hardly gonna type “thanks for letting me screw your brains out.”
Christ
. Her fingers hovered between send and delete for a full thirty seconds before she finally pressed the send button.
Shoot
. Just because
she’d
been thinking about
him
constantly didn’t mean he’d given her another thought. She bit her lip. Didn’t matter now.

She glanced at the forest
and shivered. She didn’t know what scared her most—getting attacked by some unknown boogeyman, or falling for Alex Parker.

***

His phone pinged. A text from Mallory. His pulse raced. So much for being the cool, dispassionate operator. Although he’d lost that title when he’d faced that young girl with his arm wrapped around her father’s neck and chickened out of killing the motherfucker.

“Hope emergency all sorted. Thanks for Friday night.”

He grinned. It was so un-Mallory-like and he’d bet she’d spent an age figuring out exactly what to say.

He checked his phone tracking data. She was still at Quantico. Not in the building itself, but in the parking lot. He was only ten minutes away, driving home
on the 95, which was snarled with the usual rush hour traffic, after a meeting in Fredericksburg. She must be on her way home.

He got another ding on his computer telling him Mallory had made more phone calls. He set his teeth as he listened, the sound of her voice reminding him of her lips and the memory of her lips reminding him of how hot her ki
sses were, and how sad her eyes, and how massively he’d betrayed her trust.

Then he listened to the words.
Two flat tires? He glanced at the tracking data and sure enough she was still in the Quantico parking lot.
Fuck
. He checked his wristwatch and heard the recovery company say they’d be there ASAP—which would be at least another hour. He didn’t like it. He dialed her number.

“Hello?”

“It’s Alex. The answer to your question is yes.”