Ricardo (The Santiago Brothers Book Three) (26 page)

A knock at her office door drew her attention. Her colleague, Special Agent Douglas Fairbanks, peeked his head in. A noted look of concern crossed his features. “Maggie, you have a visitor.”

She waved her hand for Doug to enter. She didn’t expect the agent from the Richmond office until tomorrow. She gathered the loose papers on her desk into a couple of piles, careful not to cover her notes for their case. Maggie glanced up and ceased her organizing. She slowly rose from her chair, her eyes focused on the man behind Agent Fairbanks.

“This is Deputy US Marshal Brandon Worth.” Doug stepped aside and allowed Maggie a full view of her visitor.

A dark-haired, square-jawed man about six feet tall and all muscle confidently entered the room. Maggie let out a restrained breath as she took in his stonewashed jeans, tucked-in collared shirt, and dark brown blazer. His pale eyes grew larger when they met hers, but by the time he crossed the room to meet her, they were unreadable.

Maggie walked around to the front of her desk. “This is Agent Margaret Weston. But everyone calls her Maggie,” Doug continued. The man extended his hand during the greeting.

“Marshal.” Her hand fitted to his and an onslaught of heat surged up her arm. His firm grip and million-dollar smile nearly put Maggie in a trance. “Please have a seat.” She pulled her hand from his and gestured toward two chairs angled in front of her desk. Maggie laid both her palms on the sides of her skirt and took her time as she walked back around to her seat. The last thing she wanted to do was trip over the corner of her desk.

“Sorry to drop in unannounced.” A deep, rich voice filled the room.

Maggie decided it matched him perfectly. She shook the thought from her mind, shocked she found it there in the first place. “Thanks again, Doug,” she called before he softly closed her office door behind him. “On the contrary, Marshal. How may I help you?”

His eyes sparkled and he smiled slowly. “First off, call me Brandon.”

Maggie nodded, unsure whether she could be informal with him so soon.

“Second, I need your help.”

Maggie furrowed her brows. Did her boss forget to leave her a note about another case? Maggie worked a full load, with profile write-ups needed by several regional offices. “You’re in need of a profiler for a prisoner?”

Brandon’s eyes shadowed over. He placed his elbows on the armrests and interlaced his fingers in front of him. “Something like that. Do you recall a John Michael Burrows?”

Maggie’s eyes widened. “Funny you should mention his name. I was just reading an article in the paper that reminded me of him.”

John Michael Burrows made her career, with barely ten years on the job. The FBI’s DC profiling division accepted Maggie’s transfer request a couple of years ago and almost as soon as she stepped into the office, her supervisor introduced her to her first assignment — Burrows. At first, police couldn’t identify a suspect in a series of unsolved female disappearances in Culpeper County. A persistent investigation linked the victims to one another, the common denominator being their unidentified suspect. Maggie finally broke the case with the discovery of someone they all had in common. That someone was Burrows.

“I’m not going to lie. This office is because of Burrows.” She casually waved a hand around. Brandon turned his head to get a one hundred eighty-degree view.

“It’s very nice.” He grinned. She detected a note of amusement in his voice. “Your reputation precedes you.”

Maggie dipped her head, embarrassed. The spacious office boasted an open floor plan with locked file cabinets on the far wall opposite her desk. She completed ten thousand steps a day just walking from one end to the other multiple times. Yet, she did enjoy the floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased a great view of the downtown DC area.

Maggie inhaled deeply, hesitant to dwell on the compliment. The FBI awarded her a special commendation with the capture of Burrows. She held the honor of being the first black female profiler to ever identify and capture a serial killer. In the Virginia judicial system, the Burrows case set a precedent; Maggie provided expert testimony pivotal to Burrows receiving the death penalty for the murders of nine women, whose bodies were never found. Maggie signed the final draft of Burrows’s investigative report over a year ago with no real test of her performance as a profiler since. No case had reached that level of difficulty.

“Really, Marshal.” Maggie wanted to dispel the perception.

“Brandon.” He urged.

Maggie cleared her throat. “I was just doing my job, and I’m glad the case is over.” Maggie swallowed to relieve her dry throat. The headline of the newspaper article flashed in her mind. The ex-cop and Burrows were too similar: the need…no, the desire to kill women.

Brandon cleared his throat. “Um, not quite…”

Maggie’s breath caught; her chest tightened.
Not over?
Brandon’s hands gripped the sides of his chair. US Marshals handle the transfer of prisoners and the apprehension of fugitives…

“Don’t say it,” Maggie breathed.

“He’s escaped.”

Maggie’s eyes fluttered as she tried to comprehend the news. She looked away. Escaped? The greatest danger to women in the history of central Virginia back on the streets? The Burrows’s case received the highest media coverage due to the threat to public safety, a title not held by any perpetrator since the DC sniper. Her breathing became more labored as the news sunk in. “How did this happen?”

****

Brandon Worth watched her eyes flash with a mix of anger and confusion when she voiced the very question at the top of his list. How did a serial killer, of all people, escape US Marshal custody? The high-profile nature of Burrows’s case, and Brandon’s tracking expertise, made him the frontrunner to head the recovery operation. He accepted the assignment without hesitation. The reputation of the US Marshals Service hung by a thread if Burrows eluded police again. Brandon lived for this type of challenge.

A quick review of the summary file revealed Special Agent Margaret Weston’s name. The reason for Burrows’s original apprehension rested with her. Usually serial killers became sloppy, or better at what they did. Burrows in no way defined sloppy. Agent Weston miraculously pieced together the horrid puzzle and singled him out as the perpetrator of the crimes. Maggie was blessed with talent for, well, comprehending the sick creatures of the earth. Logic demanded Brandon seek her help.

Brandon appraised the woman before him. He didn’t expect her youthful appearance or her understated beauty. Slightly below average in height, around five feet four or five, he found it hard not to notice her shapely hips when she walked. Her rich, deep mahogany-colored hair bounced with each turn of her head. She exhibited exotic features: cocoa-colored skin, chocolate eyes, and a full, pretty mouth. He looked casually to her left hand. No ring. In the last five years, no woman had ever induced him to linger.

But this woman…

Brandon clenched his hands. Something in him had shifted the moment his eyes rested on her. He didn’t think it was possible again. Even now he struggled to regain control.
Nice try, God. I’ll not surrender. You won’t fool me again.

Her unassuming manner put her at odds with how he conducted the chase. He recalled her embarrassment over the size of her office. Clearly humble about her promotion within the ranks of the department, if she lacked the fortitude she needed on a manhunt of this magnitude, Brandon would get all he could from her now and leave her behind. No sense in allowing a sheepish woman into the fray, even if she did study crazies for a living.

“The details on his escape are a bit fuzzy, but it is my belief Burrows had inside help.”

The space between Maggie’s brows creased. She crossed her arms and stared intently at him. Brandon’s neck grew hot at her observation but the sensation quickly subsided. Her concentration was on Burrows’s next move, not on Brandon himself.

He continued. “Sometime between location stops, Burrows was able to get free of his restraints, overpower the bus driver, and make his escape. He was last seen heading south on Interstate 95.” He stopped to allow her time to process the information. Maggie let out a small breath. Her stare didn’t relent. She appeared calm and collected. Perhaps he misjudged her ability to remain cool under pressure.
So far so good.

“So let me guess: you want me to help you track him?”

Brandon nodded slowly. “I’ve been authorized by my superiors to bring you on as a special consultant. You were instrumental in his capture before, so my superiors and I believe your expertise in this matter is too valuable to pass up.”

Brandon noticed her looking down again. Her top teeth pinned her bottom lip. FBI agents never struck him as self-conscious, unless fresh from the academy. Every outward appearance from her firm handshake to her form-hugging skirt suit spoke of confidence, but if she didn’t possess it…

He suddenly wished he didn’t notice how lovely she looked. A slight pang of disappointment hit him, and then irritation. Regardless of her pleasing appearance, he couldn’t ignore his best lead on Burrows. His operation needed her prowess. Brandon calculated the amount of time this case demanded he spend with Maggie: lots of long hours…several days at the very least. His eyes stole quickly over her form again. Well, at least it wouldn’t all be for nothing. He enjoyed working with a pretty face, even if he did place them in the off-limits category.

“I’m honored the Marshal Service wants my help. Although, I’d be the first to say others worked equally hard on the Burrows case.” She sat up straight, her gaze level. “We caught him before and we can do it again. He knows this, and hopefully it will cause enough anxiety for him to make an early slipup.” She squared her shoulders; a devilish grin spread across her features. “Then we’ll have him.”

Brandon’s breath caught at her determination. He had completely misread her body language. There was a fire in her eyes for the hunt — and nothing stirred his blood more than the hunt.
I take it back…

****

“Great. I brought over something I think you should take a look at.” Brandon dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a clear, tiny plastic bag. Maggie eyed the slip of yellow paper inside the bag. “This was left behind in Burrows’s seat. I’m thinking deliberately.”

Maggie took the baggie Brandon handed her. “You are next,” she read softly. Her pulse quickened.

“I see two options here. Either someone handed him that piece of paper, or he left it for someone.”

“I’d say with almost complete certainty it’s the latter.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Maggie detected a trace of doubt in Brandon’s voice. She looked up and turned the paper around for him to see. “This is his handwriting.”

Brandon leaned forward and snatched the bag from her hand, his eyes narrowed on the paper. “You’re sure?” Disbelief laced his voice.

“Trust me, Marshal, I know everything about this man.” Maggie stood and walked toward the opposite office wall and the safe where she kept her case files. The archive division handled old files but the desire to have Burrows’s on hand never left Maggie, even after his trial had ended. She heard Brandon rise to his feet and walk in her direction. She glanced over her shoulder to see him staring after her. “There was a real lack of a paper trail in the original case. We have very little writing samples from Burrows. It was easy to memorize the strokes of his hand. Necessary, actually.” She reached the cabinets and worked the combination lock on the safe.

“I’m impressed.”

Maggie didn’t allow the praise time to settle. “The real question is who is it for,” Maggie called over her shoulder.

“It’s my instinct to believe it is for someone, but we also need to assume he dropped it by accident.”

Maggie stopped working the lock. She turned to Brandon, her voice direct. “Everything Burrows does is deliberate. If this note was left behind as you say, he wanted someone to find it.” Maggie shrugged. “Now, whether it was for another inmate or law enforcement is an answer I’m afraid I don’t have. Yet.”

“What’s your gut telling you?”

Maggie smiled.
Gut instinct
. Profiling was a scientific discipline, but it couldn’t replace the age-old investigative tool. As she pondered his question, her smile waned. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

“Really, Maggie? You said you knew this man.”

She looked over at him. His teasing half-smile created a handsome angle to his square jawline. Heat rose to her cheeks and she tried not to think about how her name rolled deliciously off his tongue.

But it did.

And she thought about it.

“I’d like to take a look at the bus he was on, and talk to those present at the time of his escape to get a better handle on his intentions.” Maggie returned to try the combination lock again. Old safes were tricky.

Brandon nodded. “We can do that. I’ve already conducted preliminary interviews myself. You can take a look at the notes and see if maybe I missed something.”

“Oh, I’m sure your interviews were thorough,” she rushed to say over her shoulder but stopped when he gave her a full grin. Her heart thumped. Too attractive for his own good and a confident flirt.

Get a grip
.

He put his cell to his ear and she heard him give someone an update. “I’m at her office now. Give me a call when you have that report. Thanks.”

“How much of a head start does he have on us?” she asked when she heard him finish. She heaved a big sigh when the safe drawer opened with a metallic thud. She needed to get to that bus. If Burrows left behind this clue, she could identify others less subtle. Hopefully, they would have him in custody by tonight. Maggie’s insides churned as she remembered the newspaper headline she’d read earlier. Soon, the same headline would show up again if Burrows continued to roam free.

“Significant. He’s been on the run for at least twelve hours.”

“
Twelve!
” She whirled around.

Brandon winced at her reaction, and then grimaced. Maggie tried to steady her nerves. She didn’t want to offend the US Marshals. She pulled at one of the lower drawers where she kept her old case files and swiftly skimmed through the dividers. Twelve hours was a significant amount of time in the law enforcement world, especially when chasing down a murderer.