A Perfect Evil (23 page)

B
efore Christine could answer, her brother charged through the group, spilling Emily Fulton’s coffee and almost knocking Paul Calloway to the floor. Everyone stared as Nick pointed his finger at her and said to Michelle Tanner, “Mrs. Tanner, do you realize this woman is a reporter?”

Michelle Tanner was a petite woman, slender to the point of being frail and, from what Christine had already learned, easily intimidated. Michelle’s small face went pale, the large hazel eyes widened. She looked at Christine, fumbled with her coffee cup, then stared at it as though surprised by its
click-clack
rattle amplified in the silence. Finally, she looked up at Nick.

“Yes, Sheriff Morrelli. I’m well aware that Christine is a reporter.” She folded her hands together, apparently noticed a slight tremor and tucked them under the table, safely into her lap. With her eyes now on her coffee, she continued, “We think it would be beneficial to have something in tonight’s paper…about Matthew.” The tremor was now in her voice.

Christine saw Nick softening. If there was one thing her macho brother couldn’t handle, it was a tearful woman. She had used them herself, though there was nothing manipulative about Michelle Tanner’s tears.

“Mrs. Tanner, I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Actually, it’s a very good idea.”

Christine shifted in her chair, so she could see the woman who appeared from behind Nick. She could have been a model, with flawless skin, lovely high cheekbones, full pouty lips and silky, short dark hair. Her suit draped over a slender, athletic figure with enough curves to hold every man’s attention in the room. However, her voice and stance showed she was unaware of the effect of her femininity. She carried herself confidently and with an air of authority. This woman was not easily intimidated by anything or anyone, let alone a roomful of people who had no idea who she was. Already, Christine liked her.

“Excuse me?” Nick seemed irritated with the woman.

“I think it would be a good idea to involve the media right away.”

Nick glanced around the room. He looked uncomfortable and flustered.

“Can I talk to you a minute? Alone.” He took the woman’s arm, but she immediately jerked it away. Still, she turned to leave the room with him. The crowd opened for her exit. Nick followed.

“Excuse me.” Christine patted Michelle’s hand. She grabbed her notebook. Despite Nick’s fury, she wanted to meet the woman who had just put him in his place. This had to be the FBI expert from Quantico, Special Agent Maggie O’Dell. She wondered what information Agent O’Dell might be willing to supply. Information Nick would keep in a vise grip if it meant protecting his precious reputation.

Nick and Agent O’Dell huddled in a corner of the living room next to the bay window that overlooked the front yard. Several of the police officers stared. Nick’s men knew better and pretended to be occupied with their work.

“I told you he wouldn’t like you being here,” said a voice behind her.

Christine glanced over her shoulder at Hal. “Well, it looks like someone might be changing his mind.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely met his match with that one. I’m going outside for a smoke. Why don’t you join me?”

“Thanks, no. I’m trying to quit.”

“Suit yourself.”

He headed out the front door. The screen whined, then slammed. Nick and Agent O’Dell didn’t even notice. Nick spoke in a hushed tone, confining his anger with clenched teeth. Agent O’Dell looked unscathed by any of it, her voice calm and even.

“Excuse me for interrupting.” As she approached Christine felt Nick’s glare like a slap in the face. She avoided his eyes. “You must be Special Agent O’Dell. I’m Christine Hamilton.” She offered her hand, and O’Dell took it without hesitation.

“Ms. Hamilton.”

The grip was strong and steady.

“In his fury I’m sure Nicky failed to tell you that I’m his sister.”

O’Dell glanced up at Nick, and Christine thought she saw a hint of a smile on the otherwise stoic face.

“I wondered if there was a personal connection.”

“He’s obviously pissed at me, so it’s hard for him to see that I’m really here to help.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“So, you won’t mind answering some questions?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Hamilton…”

“Christine.”

“Of course, Christine. Despite my opinions, this isn’t my investigation. I’m here strictly to profile this case.”

Christine knew without looking at him that Nick was smiling now. It only made her angry. “So what does that mean? Another press blackout like in the Alverez case? Nicky, that’s only going to make matters worse.”

“Actually, Christine, I think Sheriff Morrelli has changed his mind,” O’Dell said, watching Nick, whose smile transformed into a grimace.

He pushed his hair from his forehead. O’Dell folded her arms over her chest and waited. Christine looked from one to the other. The tension filled the corner, and she found herself taking a step backward.

Finally, Nick cleared his throat as though his discomfort was lodged somewhere between his larynx and tongue. “There’ll be a press conference in the courthouse lobby tomorrow morning at eight-thirty.”

“Can I print that in tonight’s article?” She looked from Nick to O’Dell and back to Nick.

“Sure,” he grudgingly answered.

“Anything else I can use in tonight’s article?”

“No.”

“Sheriff Morrelli, didn’t you say you already have copies of the boy’s photo?” Again, O’Dell said this very matter-of-factly, no underlying edge. “It may jog some memories if Christine included one with her piece.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets, and Christine wondered whether it was so he wouldn’t strangle both her and O’Dell.

“Stop by the courthouse and pick one up. I’ll instruct Lucy to leave it at the front desk. The front desk, Christine. I don’t want you in my office snooping around.”

“Relax, Nicky. I keep telling you I’m not the enemy.” She started to leave, but turned back at the door. “You’re still coming over for dinner tonight, aren’t you?”

“I may be too busy.”

“Agent O’Dell, would you like to join us? Nothing fancy. I’m fixing spaghetti. There’ll be plenty of Chianti.”

“Thanks, that sounds nice.”

Christine almost burst out laughing at the surprise on Nick’s face.

“I’ll see the two of you about seven. Nicky knows the address.”

B
efore Christine could answer, her brother charged through the group, spilling Emily Fulton’s coffee and almost knocking Paul Calloway to the floor. Everyone stared as Nick pointed his finger at her and said to Michelle Tanner, “Mrs. Tanner, do you realize this woman is a reporter?”

Michelle Tanner was a petite woman, slender to the point of being frail and, from what Christine had already learned, easily intimidated. Michelle’s small face went pale, the large hazel eyes widened. She looked at Christine, fumbled with her coffee cup, then stared at it as though surprised by its
click-clack
rattle amplified in the silence. Finally, she looked up at Nick.

“Yes, Sheriff Morrelli. I’m well aware that Christine is a reporter.” She folded her hands together, apparently noticed a slight tremor and tucked them under the table, safely into her lap. With her eyes now on her coffee, she continued, “We think it would be beneficial to have something in tonight’s paper…about Matthew.” The tremor was now in her voice.

Christine saw Nick softening. If there was one thing her macho brother couldn’t handle, it was a tearful woman. She had used them herself, though there was nothing manipulative about Michelle Tanner’s tears.

“Mrs. Tanner, I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Actually, it’s a very good idea.”

Christine shifted in her chair, so she could see the woman who appeared from behind Nick. She could have been a model, with flawless skin, lovely high cheekbones, full pouty lips and silky, short dark hair. Her suit draped over a slender, athletic figure with enough curves to hold every man’s attention in the room. However, her voice and stance showed she was unaware of the effect of her femininity. She carried herself confidently and with an air of authority. This woman was not easily intimidated by anything or anyone, let alone a roomful of people who had no idea who she was. Already, Christine liked her.

“Excuse me?” Nick seemed irritated with the woman.

“I think it would be a good idea to involve the media right away.”

Nick glanced around the room. He looked uncomfortable and flustered.

“Can I talk to you a minute? Alone.” He took the woman’s arm, but she immediately jerked it away. Still, she turned to leave the room with him. The crowd opened for her exit. Nick followed.

“Excuse me.” Christine patted Michelle’s hand. She grabbed her notebook. Despite Nick’s fury, she wanted to meet the woman who had just put him in his place. This had to be the FBI expert from Quantico, Special Agent Maggie O’Dell. She wondered what information Agent O’Dell might be willing to supply. Information Nick would keep in a vise grip if it meant protecting his precious reputation.

Nick and Agent O’Dell huddled in a corner of the living room next to the bay window that overlooked the front yard. Several of the police officers stared. Nick’s men knew better and pretended to be occupied with their work.

“I told you he wouldn’t like you being here,” said a voice behind her.

Christine glanced over her shoulder at Hal. “Well, it looks like someone might be changing his mind.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely met his match with that one. I’m going outside for a smoke. Why don’t you join me?”

“Thanks, no. I’m trying to quit.”

“Suit yourself.”

He headed out the front door. The screen whined, then slammed. Nick and Agent O’Dell didn’t even notice. Nick spoke in a hushed tone, confining his anger with clenched teeth. Agent O’Dell looked unscathed by any of it, her voice calm and even.

“Excuse me for interrupting.” As she approached Christine felt Nick’s glare like a slap in the face. She avoided his eyes. “You must be Special Agent O’Dell. I’m Christine Hamilton.” She offered her hand, and O’Dell took it without hesitation.

“Ms. Hamilton.”

The grip was strong and steady.

“In his fury I’m sure Nicky failed to tell you that I’m his sister.”

O’Dell glanced up at Nick, and Christine thought she saw a hint of a smile on the otherwise stoic face.

“I wondered if there was a personal connection.”

“He’s obviously pissed at me, so it’s hard for him to see that I’m really here to help.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“So, you won’t mind answering some questions?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Hamilton…”

“Christine.”

“Of course, Christine. Despite my opinions, this isn’t my investigation. I’m here strictly to profile this case.”

Christine knew without looking at him that Nick was smiling now. It only made her angry. “So what does that mean? Another press blackout like in the Alverez case? Nicky, that’s only going to make matters worse.”

“Actually, Christine, I think Sheriff Morrelli has changed his mind,” O’Dell said, watching Nick, whose smile transformed into a grimace.

He pushed his hair from his forehead. O’Dell folded her arms over her chest and waited. Christine looked from one to the other. The tension filled the corner, and she found herself taking a step backward.

Finally, Nick cleared his throat as though his discomfort was lodged somewhere between his larynx and tongue. “There’ll be a press conference in the courthouse lobby tomorrow morning at eight-thirty.”

“Can I print that in tonight’s article?” She looked from Nick to O’Dell and back to Nick.

“Sure,” he grudgingly answered.

“Anything else I can use in tonight’s article?”

“No.”

“Sheriff Morrelli, didn’t you say you already have copies of the boy’s photo?” Again, O’Dell said this very matter-of-factly, no underlying edge. “It may jog some memories if Christine included one with her piece.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets, and Christine wondered whether it was so he wouldn’t strangle both her and O’Dell.

“Stop by the courthouse and pick one up. I’ll instruct Lucy to leave it at the front desk. The front desk, Christine. I don’t want you in my office snooping around.”

“Relax, Nicky. I keep telling you I’m not the enemy.” She started to leave, but turned back at the door. “You’re still coming over for dinner tonight, aren’t you?”

“I may be too busy.”

“Agent O’Dell, would you like to join us? Nothing fancy. I’m fixing spaghetti. There’ll be plenty of Chianti.”

“Thanks, that sounds nice.”

Christine almost burst out laughing at the surprise on Nick’s face.

“I’ll see the two of you about seven. Nicky knows the address.”