Ruthless (38 page)

Did she look like a failure? Like the woman who had just provided a heinous killer with a get-out-of-jail-free card and who’d lost her husband to geography?

Deep breath
. She reached for the door sporting the name Daniel T. Burnett and passed the point of no return.

“Good afternoon, Agent Harris.” The young woman, Tara Morgan according to the nameplate on her desk, smiled. “Welcome to Birmingham.”

Since Jess hadn’t introduced herself, she assumed that the chief had ensured his office personnel, certainly his receptionist, would recognize his anticipated visitor. “Thank you. I’m here to see Chief Burnett.”

“Yes, ma’am. If you’d like to have a seat, I’ll let the chief know you’ve arrived.”

At last
, Tara politely left off. Jess was late by twelve minutes, most of which had been spent fortifying her resolve and gathering her composure to face the final buffeting winds of the emotional hurricane that had descended upon her life. The receptionist offered water or a soft drink. Jess declined. Getting anything, even water, past the massive lump lodged firmly in her throat was unlikely. Keeping it down, an unmitigated no-go.

Jess used the intervening time to evaluate the changes Birmingham’s newest chief had made since taking over the office of top cop. From the marble-floored entry to the classic beige carpet and walls, the tranquil lobby looked less like the anteroom to the chief of police and more like the waiting area of a prestigious surgeon’s office. Though
she hadn’t been in this office since career day back in high school, the decorating and furnishings were far too fresh to have seen more than a couple of years’ wear.

Law enforcement and political journals rested in a crisp stack atop the table flanked by two plush, upholstered chairs. The fabric resembled a European tapestry and carried the distinct flavor of his mother’s taste. It wasn’t enough she’d influenced the decorating scheme of the palatial homes belonging to select members of Birmingham’s elite simply by hosting a grand soiree and inviting the city’s who’s who list. Katherine Burnett set the gold standard for keeping up with the Joneses.

Jess wondered if the fine citizens of Birmingham approved of such wasteful use of their tax dollars. Knowing Katherine, she had paid for the renovation herself and spelled it all out on the front page of the Lifestyle section of the
Birmingham News
.

Just another example of how nothing changed around here. Ever. Jess deposited her bag on a chair and stretched her travel-cramped muscles. Eight grueling hours on the road on Tuesday and four this morning had taken its toll. She was exhausted. A flight would have provided far more efficient transportation, but she preferred to have her car while she was here. Made the potential for escape much more feasible.

Actually she’d needed time to think.

“You made it.”

Whether it was the sound of his voice or the idea that he looked better now, in spite of current circumstances, than he had on Christmas Eve ten years ago, she suddenly felt very fragile and unquestionably old. His dark hair was still thick without even a hint of gray. The elegant navy
suit he wore brought out the blue in his eyes. But it was his face, leaner than before but no less handsome, that conveyed the most damage to her brittle psyche.

The weight of the past seventy-two hours crashed down on her in one big knee-weakening wallop. The floor shifted beneath her feet and the urge to run into his strong arms or to simply burst into tears made a fleeting but powerful appearance.

But she wasn’t that kid anymore. And they… they were little more than strangers.

She managed a stiff nod. “I did.”

Funny how they both avoided calling each other by name. Not funny at all was the idea that five seconds in his presence had the two little words she’d uttered sounding as Southern as the day she’d hit the road after high school graduation.

She cleared her throat. “And I’m ready to get to work. First, I’d like some time to review the files.”

“Of course.” He offered his hand, then drew it back and gestured awkwardly as if belatedly realizing that touching was not a good idea. “Shall we go to my office?”

“Absolutely.” She draped her bag over her shoulder and moved toward him, each step a supreme test of her self-control. Things that hadn’t been said and should have battled with the numerous other troubles clashing in her head for priority.
This wasn’t the time
.

“Coming all this way to help us figure this out means a great deal to me.”

Still skirting her name
. Jess pushed aside the confusion or frustration, maybe both, and the weariness and matched his stride as he led the way. “I can’t make any promises but I’ll do what I can.”

He hadn’t given her many details over the phone; that he had called at all was proof enough of the gravity of the situation.

He introduced her to his personal secretary, then ushered her into his office and closed the door. Like the lobby, his spacious office smacked of Katherine’s touch. Jess placed her bag on the floor next to a chair at the small conference table and surveyed the four case files waiting in grim formation for her inspection. Clipped to the front of each jacket was a photo of a missing girl.

This
was why she had come all this way. However much his call gratified her ego, piecing together this puzzle was her ultimate goal. She leaned forward to study the attractive faces. Four young women in the space of two and a half weeks had disappeared, the latest just three days ago. No common threads other than age, no suggestion of foul play, not a hint of evidence left behind. Macy York, Callie Fanning, Reanne Parsons, and Andrea Denton had simply vanished.

“These two are Jefferson County residents.” He tapped the first and second photos; Macy and Callie were both blondes. “This one’s Tuscaloosa.” Reanne, a redhead. “The latest is from Mountain Brook, my jurisdiction.” The fourth girl, Andrea, was a brunette and his attention idled there an extra moment or two.

Jess lowered herself into a chair. She opened the files, one by one, and reviewed the meager contents. Interviews with family and friends. Photos and reports from the scenes. All but one of the missing, Reanne, were college students.

“No contact with the families? No sightings?”

She looked up, the need to assess his facial expressions
as he answered a force of habit. His full attention rested on the files for a time before settling on her. The weight of the public service position he held had scored lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Lines that hadn’t been there ten years ago. Funny how those same sorts of lines just made her look old, but on him they lent an air of distinction.

He shook his head in response to her question.

“No credit card or cell phone trails?” she went on. “No good-bye or suicide notes? No ransom demands?”

“Nothing.”

With a fluidity and ease that spoke of confidence as well as physical strength and fitness, he propped one hip on the edge of the table and studied her, those familiar blue eyes searching hers as blatantly as she had assessed his seconds ago. “Sheriff Roy Griggs—you may remember him—and Chief Bruce Patterson in Tuscaloosa are doing all they can, but there’s nowhere to go. The bureau won’t budge on the issue of age of consent. All four of these girls are nineteen or older, and with the lack of evidence to indicate foul play there’s nothing to investigate, in their opinion. File the report, add the photos to the various databases, and wait. That’s what they can do.”

According to the law, the bureau was correct. Unless there was evidence of foul play or vulnerability to a crime, there was no action the bureau or any law enforcement agency could take. He knew this but his cop instincts or his emotions, she hadn’t concluded which yet, wouldn’t let it go at that. And she did remember Griggs. He had served as Jefferson County sheriff for the past three decades.

“But you think there’s a connection that suggests this is not only criminal but perhaps serial.” This wasn’t a
question. He’d told her as much on the phone, but she needed to hear his conclusion again and to see what his face and eyes had to show about his words.

His call, just hearing his voice, had resurrected memories and feelings she’d thought long dead and buried. They hadn’t spoken since the summer after college graduation until ten years ago when they bumped into each other at the Publix in Hoover. Of all the grocery stores in the Birmingham area how they’d ended up at the same one on the first holiday she’d spent with her family in years still befuddled her. He had been newly divorced from his second wife. Jess had been celebrating a promotion. A volatile combination when merged with the holiday mania and the nostalgia of their explosive history. The last-minute dessert she had hoped to grab at the market before dinner with her sister’s family had never made it to the table.

Jess hadn’t heard from him since. Not that she could fault his after-frantic-sex lack of propriety; she’d made no attempt at contact either. There had been no random shopping ventures since on her rare visits to Birmingham.

“There has to be a connection.” He surveyed the happy, carefree faces in the photos again. “Same age group. All attractive. Smart. No records, criminal or otherwise. Their entire futures—bright futures—ahead of them. And no one in their circle of family or friends saw a disappearing act coming.” He tapped the fourth girl’s photo. “I know Andrea Denton personally. There’s no way she would just vanish like this. No way.”

Two things registered distinctly as he made this passionate declaration. One, he wasn’t wearing a wedding band. Two, he didn’t just know number four personally. He knew her intimately on some level.

“Someone took her,” he insisted. “Someone took them all.” His expression softened a fraction. “I know your profiling reputation. If anyone can help us find these girls, it’s you.”

A genuine smile tugged at the frown Jess had been wearing most waking hours for days now. She had absolutely nothing to smile about but somehow the compliment coming from him roused the reaction. “That might be a bit of a stretch, Chief.” Sitting here with him staring down at her so intently felt entirely too familiar… too personal. She stood, leveling the playing field. “And even the best can’t create something out of nothing and, unfortunately, that’s exactly what you appear to have so far.”

“All I’m asking is that you try. These girls,” he gestured to the files, “deserve whatever we can do.”

He’d get no argument from her there. “You know the statistics.” If they had in fact been abducted, the chances of finding one or more alive at this stage were minimal at best. The only good thing she could see was that they didn’t have a body.
Yet
.

“I do.” He dipped his head in a weary, somber move, emphasizing the grave tone of his voice.

Eventually she would learn the part he was leaving out. No one wanted to admit there was nothing to be done when anyone went missing, particularly a child or young adult. But this urgency and unwavering insistence that foul play was involved went beyond basic human compassion and the desire to get the job done. She could feel his anxiety and worry vibrating with escalating intensity.

“Will your counterparts cooperate?” Kicking a hornet’s nest when it came to jurisdiction would compound her already complicated situation. That she could do
without. Once the news hit the public domain, there would be trouble enough.

“They’ll cooperate. You have my word.”

Jess had known Daniel Burnett her whole life. He believed there was more here than met the eye in these seemingly random disappearances. Unless emotion was somehow slanting his assessment, his instincts rarely missed the mark. More than twenty years ago he had known she was going to part ways with him well before she had recognized that unexpected path herself, and he had known she was his for the taking that cold, blustery evening in that damned Publix. She would lay odds on his instincts every time.

She just hadn’t ever been able to count on him when it came to choosing her over his own personal and career goals. As ancient as that history was, the hole it left in her heart had never completely healed. Even knowing that hard truth, she held her breath, waiting for what came next.

“I need your help, Jess.”

Jess
. The smooth, deep nuances of his voice whispered over her skin and just like that it was ten years ago all over again.

Only this time, she would make certain they didn’t end up in bed together.

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