Beautiful Maids All in a Row (14 page)

“After a daring daylight escape in which two federal marshals were slain,” the reporter continued off screen, “Meriwether then went to Dr. Ballard's home in Alexandria and viciously attacked the then agent with a knife, later shooting her husband, Dr. Hayden Sage, an emergency room physician at Our Lady of Mercy Hospital, in Washington, D.C.”

Archived footage of me being wheeled out of my house on a gurney on the verge of death came on. Luke walked beside me, holding my limp hand with his bloody one. He didn't have a shirt on, and his undershirt was covered in blood. I didn't remember any of it. I was out cold.

“Dr. Ballard, seen here on her way to the hospital, somehow got the upper hand and killed the Ripper.” The reporter returned. “The FBI would not comment on the extent of Dr. Ballard's involvement, or if they believe that the Woodsman has struck again. Whether or not this is the work of the Woodsman, the search for Audrey Burke and her abductor continues. This is Lisa Kim, reporting from the Virginia Medical Center in Richmond.”

I turned away from the television and walked back to the table in a daze. They
had
to bring me into their story. I couldn't just stay in the background.
Shit!
This was not good.

Luke cautiously sat down across from me. “I'm sorry. I told you your name wouldn't be dragged into it.”

“It's not like you pushed me in front of the cameras.” I picked up my fork and started moving my food around. Then I tossed the fork down onto the plate. “I'm not hungry anymore.”

“Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.”

“I saw your face when his picture came on. You looked as if you'd just been punched in the gut.”

“I was just shocked, that's all.” He didn't look convinced.
“That's all,”
I repeated. People in the restaurant were staring at me now and quietly murmuring among themselves. I was under the microscope again. “Can we please get the hell out of here?”

“You read my mind.” Luke gestured to the waitress, who came over. “Can we get the check, please?”

She eyed our full plates. “Was there a problem with your orders?”

“No, we're just in a hurry. Can you wrap them up to go?” he asked, pulling out his wallet.

The waitress half-smiled and all the creases on her face disappeared. She looked almost pretty. “It's on the house.” She looked at me and picked up our plates. “You deserve it, doll.” Before I opened my mouth to protest, she said, “You just catch that som'bitch, you hear?”

“I'll do my damnedest.” She nodded with a smile before walking away. I turned to Luke. “Guess being infamous is good for something.”

He smiled and dropped a twenty on the table anyway. A minute later she returned with our boxes. “Let's go.”

We stood from the table, and as we walked out of the restaurant, all heads followed us. Both businessmen and truckers alike gave me a reverent smile and nodded as I passed. I nodded back. A few even removed their caps. When my back was to them, I smiled and strutted out of that restaurant head held high. All hail the conquering hero. I hoped I wouldn't let them down.

It was good to be home. I had to drive through the night and would have gotten home sooner, but I had to follow the speed limit. Even the smallest details couldn't be overlooked. Everything was just as I'd left it. Even the pillows seemed untouched. The idiot got that right at least, though I would have to punish her for not ordering the correct shirt. Stupid bitch couldn't tell the difference between bone and eggshell. She must have known it was coming, since she was not home to greet me. Not that I minded an empty apartment. Her face and voice caused too much aggravation, especially when I was on such a high.

I stepped out of the shower and into my Ralph Lauren robe. It was such a shame I had to wash up. Audrey's smell lingered on me the whole trip, better than the finest cologne Paris has to offer. All that was left now was the memory…and of course my little memento. That fucking rent-a-cop almost ruined the entire experience with his intrusion. I only wished I'd had time to make him suffer.

As I walked into my bedroom, the news played on my TV. I, of course, had made headlines again. Human beings were so morbid. They never got enough of other people's misery. The police knew nothing, as usual. A little planning went a long way. There was that famous red-haired gentleman again. Seemed the reporters couldn't get enough of him either. He looked exactly like the pictures I saw two years ago when—

Oh, my.

It couldn't be.

No, she was teaching or something. But…it was her. They said it was her. The authorities must have been desperate. She looked terrible, far too thin and pale. A walking corpse resurrected to catch me. My, my, my, the plot thickened.

A wide smile crossed my face. “This…should be interesting.”

I volunteered to drive to the hotel, and Luke didn't fight me on it. He was fast asleep by the time we made it down the street. The nearest Hampton Inn was ten minutes from the restaurant and fifteen from the Richmond field office. We checked in and went our separate ways. As the hours passed, all the agents on our team filed in at different times, looking dead on their feet. The parking lot downstairs looked like a used car lot that specialized in late-model Crown Victorias and SUVs. It was the safest hotel in Virginia.

The first thing I did upon checking in was change into a pair of comfy black slacks two sizes too big and a gauzy red and white peasant shirt. Then I let my hair free from its severe captivity. I felt infinitely better. Since I wasn't tired, I watched a delightfully stupid movie about aliens taking over the world, then read for a while. I soon lost interest, so I pulled out my remaining finals to grade. Surprisingly, they took only an hour, with another hour for tabulating final grades. When I was done, it was past ten. I'd managed to kill four hours without even trying. Carol should have been up by then. I hadn't called her since I'd left. She was not going to be pleased. I picked up the phone and dialed her at home. It rang three times before she picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Carol. It's Iris.”

“Hello,” she said cheerfully, her voice going up an octave. “I was beginning to worry!”

“I know. I'm sorry I haven't called. It's just been really crazy.”

“Are you still in Richmond?”

“How'd you know where I was?”

“I saw you on the news! You're all over it. I've gotten a hundred calls this morning from everyone asking about you.”

Great.
“The local news picked it up already?”

“Yeah! Roger just about had a hissy fit over the phone. He said, ‘How can she go off like that without any warning?' ”

“He's not my father. I'm not even sure he's my boss anymore.”

“That's what I said, but he's pissed you haven't turned in your grades yet.”

I scoffed. “You'd think he'd give me a break. I
am
trying to catch a man who's killed four, maybe five, women.”

“Not Roger. ‘She has a commitment to this university,' he said. I wanted to pop him one.”

I couldn't help but chuckle at that thought. He wouldn't stand a chance. “I'm all done. I've already entered the grades in the system. How's Gus?”

“Great. We go over twice a day and feed him and the cats. You have a whole army of them over there!”

“So you have uncovered my secret world domination plan,” I said in a bad James Bond villain impression. “You must be destroyed.”

She chuckled. “How's the redhead? Did you smack him for bringing you on the news?”

“It wasn't his fault.”

“You're defending him?” She was irritated now. “Now that wacko knows you're there. He knows what ya look like.”

“Carol, he's blown town by now, and even if he hasn't, I'm surrounded by big, beefy men carrying guns. Nothing is gonna happen to me.”

“It better not.” We left it at that. “Oh, by the way, I cleaned up your house a little. I was afraid of ants getting in.”

“Excuse me. I like living in squalor.”

“You still do, don't worry,” she assured me in that sweet Southern voice. “There's just a lot less empty bottles and dirty clothes now.”

“You're the best, Carol.”

“Well, I love ya, darlin',” she said with a scoff. “That's what family does. We help each other out.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, you are surely welcome. Listen, I gotta go—we're late for Pat's doctor's appointment. He has to get S-H-O-T-S.”

“Oh, lord. Have fun,” I said with a chuckle.

“ 'Bye.”

I'd used the last of the coffee in my room, so I went downstairs to ask for more. It was gonna be a nine-cup kind of day. I could tell already. “Hi. Can I have another packet of coffee grounds, please?”

The front-desk attendant reached under the counter and pulled out the coffee and piece of paper. “This came for your friend,” he told me as he handed me both. It was the sketch. “That looks like my cousin,” he said.

“Really? Has he taken any trips to Baltimore or Washington lately?”

“He's in prison for tax fraud.”

“Hell of an alibi. Thanks.”

I didn't even look at the fax. I just ran to the elevator and back into my room. I sat down on the bed and took a deep breath. The face of the enemy. I turned the piece of paper over and looked at the black-and-white sketch. The Yankees cap covered most of his forehead and hair. Half of his face was covered with aviator sunglasses, so everything above the nose was hidden. His nose was straight but not too long, and there were no bumps or scars. His cheekbones were high and started right below the sunglasses. His lips were thin, but the lower one was a little fuller. His jaw was almost feminine; there were no right angles, just gentle slopes toward a gentle chin.

So, this was him. He looked like my mailman.

Luke was two rooms down, and I hated to wake him up from his much-needed sleep, but this couldn't wait. I knocked on the door. Nobody responded. I knocked again. That time he answered, still half asleep.

And half naked.

My jaw actually dropped. He was wearing only green silk boxers that hung loose around his hips. I wanted to turn away, but it was like a train wreck. It may scar you for life, but you just had to look. So I admired the view. His arms were well muscled and the definition of masculine. His chest was the same, with large pectoral muscles. It was smooth, too, with only a tiny trail of orange that started at his flat stomach and went down into no-man's-land. His long legs, the color of freshly cut marble, didn't have a trace of fat on them, only toned muscles. He looked like Michelangelo had carved him.

My stomach fluttered and a warm sensation prickled through me, giving me goose bumps. I felt like I'd just stepped into a hot tub. Every inch of me was warm and tingling, including…
oh.
It took all my self-control—every speck of it—not to take the two steps toward him and mash my lips against his. I was blushing. I was actually surprised I wasn't panting like a dog.

Luke must have read my mind because he turned as red as his hair. He quickly moved behind the open door so only one arm and his head peeked out.

“I'm sor-sor-sorry to wake you,” I stammered, finally able to turn away. “The sketch came in.” Still looking down the long hallway, I handed it to him. He snatched it out of my hand.

“Thank you,” he said quickly. The phone began to ring in the room behind him.

“I'm gonna…” I pointed to my own room.

He nodded and shut the door. I fell against the wall, unsure if my legs would hold me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. I did this a few more times, breathing in the air and breathing out the lust. My body began to ease up a little, and the butterflies flew away. I opened my eyes and let out the final breath. Okay, that was very strange. I'd always had a relatively normal sex drive, but I'd never felt
anything
like that. Not even when I saw him naked two years before. I chalked it up to not getting any, not even a kiss, for two years. Yeah, that's what it was.

Luke's door swung open again, bringing me out of my head. He'd put on a white undershirt, thank God, and looked surprised to see me. “Why are you still out here?”

“I, uh, wanted to see who was on the phone,” I lied through my teeth.

He seemed to accept it. “It was Agent Dell over at Cumberland State Forest. They think they've found where he took her. The chopper's waiting for us.”

That news was a jolt of adrenaline. “Okay,” I said, “I'll get ready.” I ran to my room. Before my door even closed, I stripped off my peasant shirt and stuffed it into the suitcase. I rooted around the bag and found my emerald-green cotton top and black slacks, complete with dress jacket. I was out the door a minute later.

Clarkson was waiting in the lobby, trying to adjust his tie. I walked over to him and swatted his hands away without a word. I straightened it with a smile. “There,” I said, patting the knot. “Now you look professional.”

“I had the clothes sitting by the bed,” he said. “I knew this would happen.”

Luke, Jones, Roth sporting a scowl for me, Liu, and Martinez filed down the stairs and into the lobby within a second, all wearing the same rumpled suits from the night before.
Be prepared,
motto for Girl Scouts and FBI alike. Without a word or glance, Luke led the pack past Clarkson and me out the double doors into the parking lot. Clarkson and I followed a few steps behind. Each of the men jumped into his requisitioned SUV and peeled out of the parking lot, lights flashing and sirens shrieking.

I sat next to Luke on the passenger's side, slipping and sliding as he turned corners with breakneck speed. I gripped the armrest, but it still didn't stop me from bumping my head on the glass a few times.

“Do they have a time of death yet?” I asked.

“All I know is that a body was found in Cumberland. A male.”

“Our UNSUB?” I asked.

“No, a park ranger. He was shot.”

Luke maneuvered the car around a Porsche, but this time my shoulder stopped my head from getting bashed. God was punishing me for my impure thoughts, I just knew it. “Then why are they calling us?”

“They also found a pile of women's clothes and a purse with Audrey's ID.”

“Shit,” I murmured. “She wasn't tied to the shore?”

“No,” he answered, speeding through a red light. “So he could still have her. Hostage Rescue is on standby.”

“Are they dragging the river? She could have gotten loose.”

“State police just got there twenty minutes ago,” he said. “Everything's on its way.”

We pulled into the underground parking garage of the Richmond field office right in front of the elevator doors. Our entourage arrived a second later, jumping out of the cars before the engines even turned off. The elevator door opened without us even having to press a button.

The small space was filled with the musk of men. They all had a good six inches on me, so I felt like the Lilliputians from
Gulliver's Travels
must have when Gulliver washed up onto their island. If Carol were there she would have said I was the luckiest gal on the East Coast having six tall, handsome, if not staunch men around me all day. All the men, except Clarkson and Roth, looked good enough to work the runways. Liu with his jet-black hair, wide slanted brown eyes, and creamy light brown skin. Martinez with his chocolate eyes and Latin vibe. Jones with his hay-blond hair, high cheekbones, and cerulean eyes. And then there was Luke…I peered over at him and the fluttering returned for a second. His soft orange hair was still untamed by mousse; not enough time to apply it, I guess. I wanted to…
shit.
Stop,
I ordered myself. Two years and I hadn't even looked at a man in that way, and the second I saw one in silk boxers I suddenly became a nympho.

Mercifully, the elevator doors opened, and I was immediately pushed back by the force of the wind pressing against me. We rushed to the waiting helicopter as best we could, lowering our heads the entire way so as not to be decapitated by the metal blades. Luke jumped into the front seat next to the pilot, picking up a file on the seat before sitting down. The rest of us clambered into the back. I put on my heavy headphones with a microphone attached to the front. It did little to drown out the noise, but it was better than nothing. The helicopter took off into the sky.

We ascended, and within a minute the Richmond office was totally out of sight. I gazed out the window down to the houses below. They were no bigger than dimes, with cars the size of ants parked along the streets.

“We should be there in about ten minutes,” Luke reported through the microphone.

He turned around and handed Liu, who sat next to me, a piece of paper. I looked over and saw it was the sketch. Liu glanced at it and then handed it to Clarkson, who passed it again.

“He looks like my mailman,” Clarkson commented.

“Mine too,” I chuckled.

“Enough jokes, people,” Luke snapped. “We have a dead park ranger and a missing woman—the time for jokes is over.”

“We were just pointing out that this man looks like half the men in America,” I explained.

“Well, one of those men is responsible for these deaths,” Roth said snidely.

“You're right,” I said. “I apologize.”

I was in a helicopter filled with men without a sense of humor among them.

Luke turned back to us. “We have our warrant. It's on the way to the scene now.”

Good; the case was officially ours now. No more sucking up to the state police.

Within minutes the residential areas and interstates were replaced with bright blooms of green as far as the eye could see, one overlapping the other. Cumberland State Forest was over sixteen thousand acres big, the largest in Virginia. Inside those acres were thirty miles of multi-use trails, and what made it perfect for our guy, four lakes and one river, the Willis. From up there, the river looked like a black string with an occasional patch of white cutting through the trees. I paid close attention to the river, hoping I could spot Audrey, but I didn't. Soon there would be half a dozen helicopters flying the length of the river with Search and Rescue workers gazing down with binoculars. It would be a minor miracle if we found her.

We began our descent into Cumberland just as I was beginning to enjoy the ride. In the distance, I saw red and blue lights encompassing a lone slab of black concrete surrounded by tall trees. The people, the size of Gabriel's action figures, walked in and out of the thick woods down a brown dirt path. The helicopter set down in the middle of the black lot. We climbed out and ran toward the path, where a man with pale blond hair wearing an official FBI windbreaker waited. A former Marine, by the look of his crew cut and permanently downturned mouth. When the last passenger was clear, the helicopter took off.