Jane Doe's Return (6 page)

“That’s why you’re cooking for her.” Jimmy laughed. “One of these days the right woman is gonna sneak up on you.”

Travis grabbed his bags. “I’m too difficult to live with.” He waved and got in his truck. The right woman could come along and Travis would still pass. Women, other than bed partners, were nothing but a distraction and he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

About a half-hour later, Travis rolled up his sleeves and greased the wok. The oil popped and cracked as he added some seasoning and veggies, getting ready to drop in the shrimp.

The instant the shrimp started to change color, his nose told him he was in heaven.
Almost as good as sex.
Shauna’s face appeared in his mind. He shook his head and squelched his body’s reaction.

Most of the women he dated were good-looking, but forgettable. They were safe. See them a few times and then move on. He didn’t really do one-night stands, but he didn’t really do relationships anymore either.

He tossed the shrimp and veggies around in the wok. When he was satisfied they were done, he dumped them into the already cooked rice with his grandmother’s secret sauce. He put the casserole dish in the oven and started to clean up.

His mind didn’t stay lost in the task. It kept going back to his attractive new partner. Everything about her turned him on. Her intelligence intrigued him. She was beyond smart and her instincts were natural, as well as her vulnerability. He could sense she’d overcome something in her life, but he didn’t have a clue as to what. Not that it mattered. He admired anyone who took adversity and used it to empower themselves. He’d like to believe that if Marie had survived, she would have done just that. He’d barely finished setting the table when the doorbell rang.

He glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes early. He chuckled and opened the door, glad to know someone listened to him. “Hi.” He took her light coat and blinked as he caught her feminine scent. She smelled of fresh lilies or some spring flower. Actually, if he was being honest, she smelled of bottled sunshine, the perfect scent for a woman. The scent would prove to be his downfall if he wasn’t careful.

“This place is great. I love the apartments on the upper level. I called on the one down the street.” The excitement in her voice sent a certain body part of his climbing, a sensation that had to be stifled immediately.

“You get a chance to look at those case files?” He led her toward the kitchen.

“A little. What did you cook?” Her arm brushed against his bicep. She looked at him, then took a step back.

“Just a little something my grandmother taught me.” He smiled. “Come on.” Trying to lighten the obvious tension between the two of them, he nodded toward the kitchen.

“It smells great. Can I help?”

“Nah.” He pulled the casserole dish from the oven.

“Wow. I’m impressed.” She sat down while he piled food on her plate. “Can everyone in your family cook like this?” She closed her eyes, inhaling the rich aroma.

Holding the pot in one hand and the spatula in the other he glared at her for a moment. What did she know about his family? He plopped some food on his plate trying to shrug off his sudden distrust. “Promise not to laugh?” he asked, deciding her comment had to be a blanket statement. Everyone had a family.

“If it’s funny, I’ll laugh.” She smiled at him.

“I’m the youngest boy and was always teased growing up.” He sat down across from her and lifted his glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

Her pink lips touched the glass and she took a sip of water. All he could think about was finding a way to get his lips on hers.

“Teased about what?” She licked them.

The table shook when he squirmed and tried to cross his legs, cutting the circulation to a specific body part. Having dinner with his hot female partner was a really bad idea. “My brothers were jocks. And big. Actually wide. They were known as the ‘Double Mac Attack Brown Brothers’.” Travis winced at the memories of his two older, bigger and much broader brothers. He had been a scrawny kid, but his choice in sports had been the clincher.

“Why not include you in the ‘Mac Attack’ thing?” She pursed her lips, “You’re very…kind of…jock like.”

Travis laughed out loud. “It’s the ‘kind of’ part that kept me from following in my older brothers’ footsteps. Let’s just say they’re three times as wide as me and twice as strong.”

“Whoa.” She looked him over. “Still don’t get it.”

“They used to call me Travina.” He found himself laughing. He’d hated being called that as a kid, but now it was just plain funny.

“Excuse me?” She sipped her water. “As in a sissy? You? Never.”

“I’d prefer to have been seen as that soft, sensitive kind of guy. You know, the ones you want to bring home and cuddle with.” He winked.

“Being a nice guy has nothing to do with masculinity. Why call you Travina for having the ability to cook and being sensitive.”

“Because they played football, hockey and baseball, and I was on the gymnastics team. I was a little more limber than most of the girls which caused me a lot of grief. Still does sometimes.”

“I’ve seen some of those male gymnasts. You have to be pretty strong.” She held up her arm, making a muscle.

Deciding it was time to change the subject, he took her fork and dug into a plump shrimp, lifting it to her mouth. “Here, try a bite.” When she took the fork from his hands to feed herself, he scowled. What was he thinking making shrimp?

“Oh, God. You actually cooked this?” She stuffed another piece in her mouth. “Umm, my God.”

The way she closed her eyes and rolled the food around in her mouth made a certain body part damn near climb right out of his pants. He forced himself to look at his own food and tried to think of anything other than the beautiful woman sitting across from him.

“Do your brothers cook?” Her voice was like hot lava rolling softly down a mountain igniting a fire deep in his belly.

“Nope. They think it’s for girls, like Travina.”

“Your brothers must live in the dark ages and I think you’ve got a great sense of humor.” She smiled, waving her fork at him. “For the record, nothing about you is…well…hell, you’re all man.”

“Thanks. My parents kept telling me my time would come. My oldest brother is jealous as hell, now. He thinks my job is too cool. My other brother lives in Lake Tahoe. Extreme skier of some kind. Still trying to find himself.” Travis ate slowly, watching her. She devoured her meal like it was the Last Supper.

“You’re all close?”

“Very. My oldest brother Bill lives in Lake George where I grew up. He’s a high school biology teacher, married with three kids. Larry doesn’t come home much, but we keep in touch. What about you?”

She put her fork down and looked blankly at him. Her blue eyes lost their spark.

“It’s important for partners to know and understand each other.” He smiled, leaning back in his chair.

“I don’t see my family.”

“I’m sorry.” Travis wanted to reach out and touch her, comfort her. “Why not?” He knew he shouldn’t ask, but the desire to know what made her tick outweighed his good senses.

She took a deep breath and glanced at the ceiling. “I didn’t have the most pleasant childhood. When I took off for college, I never looked back.”

Instinctively, he reached out and took her hand. Something in her voice told him there was a whole lot more to that story, but he wouldn’t pry. Whatever it was, she was doing her best to move past it.

She pulled her hand away, took her napkin and wiped her mouth, then tossed it on her empty plate. “I don’t dwell on it.”

“You’ve obviously overcome a great deal to get where you are. You should be proud.” He lifted the plates and took them to the sink.

“I am. It took me two extra years to get through college because I had to work to pay for it. I take responsibility for the outcome of my life.” She stood next to him at the sink, washing a plate with vigorous strokes.

Gently, he took the plate from her hands. “I think it’s clean.”

“Oh.” She rubbed her hands on her jeans, the kind that hugged the outline of her body. Right along with her not so loose T-shirt. “Most people want to feel sorry for me. I hate that.”

“Hard to feel sorry for someone who’s taken charge of their life. Besides, we all have our demons.” He finished clearing the table to make room for the files. “Now, I want to know what you think about those cases.” He desperately needed to get his mind away from her womanly shape.

“The only thing that comes up on all the cases is a mark on the back or the side of all the victims. In this case,” she pushed a piece of paper in front of him, “it could’ve been caused by the barbed wire on the nearby fence. This second one, it seems obvious that the killer used a knife or some other sharp object.” She tapped her finger at the picture of the girl found the day before she had arrived.

“This one looks like the tearing of the skin could’ve been from being dragged on the ground. This other case, the one you showed me last night, looks like he might have branded her or burned her.” She never looked up. She kept her eyes and attention focused on the papers in front of her. There was a slight hitch in her voice.

When he looked at her strictly as an agent, he had to admire her concentration. “Not strong enough.” He took in a deep breath. “Nothing really there to connect them by the scarring on their bodies.”

She arched like a cat, rolling her fists in her back. “They’re all runaways and in their teens.”

“True, but we need more facts in the killer’s

M.O. which really doesn’t match, not just the victims.” She looked across the table at him. “But you think it’s the same guy.”

The ability to speak one’s mind had always been something Travis admired in others; he liked the way she spoke her mind with him. “So do you.” He stretched his legs out and leaned back, closing his eyes. A decision had to be made. These cases were open and the FBI was investigating them as a part of the Tri-City Joint Task Force; therefore, so was she. He had to wonder whether or not he should completely trust her. And what his boss would do to him, if he found out. “Okay, maybe we should dig a little further,” he said, opening his eyes.

“Where?” She sat up in her chair, excitement echoing from her voice.

He’d felt the same eagerness when he’d first started. “We start with this last case and work backward, but remember, this is on the bottom of our priority list. Any calls coming into the office come first, unless some other agency or law enforcement office asks us specifically to dig up these cases—got it?” Travis closed up the files and handed them to her.

She nodded. “It’s late. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow. I’ll walk you to your car.” Travis slipped a jacket up to her shoulders doing his best to keep his fingers from lingering too long. Then without saying a word, she found her way down the stairs toward the street.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said as she tried to unlock her car.

He took the keys from her shaking hands. “It was my pleasure.”

“I want to mess up your hair.” She covered her mouth. “Oh, God, I can’t believe I just said that.”

He winked. “Messing with my hair wouldn’t be wise.”

She took her keys, but when their fingers touched and eyes locked, he froze. A single strand of hair fell to her cheek. Gently, he brushed the silky lock behind her ear.

“Call me when you get back to your apartment.” He took a step back, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.
Everything happens for a reason.
The words of his wise grandmother. If that were the case, then why did this woman walk into his life at this precise moment in time?

****

The next week flew by in a haze of paperwork and training. Shauna barely had time to breathe. Or think about the way Travis’s body decorated her office. By Friday morning, Shauna’s eyes were dead tired, along with the rest of her aching muscles. Staring at all the lab sheets on her desk, she squirmed and stretched, trying to work out the kinks.

She picked up Jane Doe’s file and briefly closed her eyes, remembering the moments of her life before she ran away.

One of her stepmother’s friends suggested she try and model. Since she was so tall and thin, it made perfect sense. That’s when she got the brilliant idea to run away. She took off to New York City the next week and her life had changed forever.

Holding the unrecognizable picture of herself, she glanced at Travis across the office. Honestly, she had nothing to hide. While the psychological tests she’d taken with the FBI revealed she’d been abused as a child, her responses indicated she’d dealt with her feelings and was more than a productive member of society. The tests actually showed a highly intellectual, compartmentalized, logical person who had adjusted to tragedy and risen above it.

Besides, from what she could gather, Travis seemed to know more about her assailant than she did. The only thing she’d be able to tell him would be the specifics of her rape. Even if Travis knew, she couldn’t identify the killer. But she could recognize the killer’s voice. Although, she’d have to hear it first. Every man who opened his mouth around her, she listened to carefully. That voice was permanently imprinted on her brain.