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Authors: CALLE J. BROOKES

WATCHING

BOOK: WATCHING
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Watching

 


Georgia, I know you half enjoy this outdoor stuff but I need a break
.

Jules wiped sweat off her brow—her rain soaked hair plastered to her forehead and pencils sticking out like horns—as she looked at Georgia three yards ahead of her.

How much farther
?


Up the path, about two miles
.

Georgia smirked at her friend,
having turned to look at the other woman.
They

d met
the local agent
at the end of the access road, where the Bureau

s collection of vehicles were serving as a make-shift command post.

Man, you

ve gotten out of shape, hiding down in your morgues. You ok? We

ve only a little way to go. Handers said they

d be near the second borrow pit. And it

s over that ridge
—”

A scream colder than the rain interrupted her and both women
froze
. Georgia

s weapon cleared her holster, and Jules moved to her side. The M.E. wasn

t armed.

George, that sounded close
—”


Come on, it came from over that ridge!

Georgia crested the small hill. She kept her eyes on the area surrounding them as she crept further into the small clearing, though the strengthening rain made that difficult. Her eyes caught the edge of what she now recognized as one of those damned borrow pits.

Georgia motioned one-handed for Jules to move in. If the screamer was still alive, Georgia wanted to get there before that changed. No sign of the screamer were present until she got closer to the edge, where indicators of a struggle were visible. Her hand tightened on her weapon as she moved closer. She had a feeling she was about to find an
other, extremely fresh, victim...

 

 

 

 

Other Titles

By

Calle J. Brookes

 

Paranormal

The Blood King
(Dardanos)

Awakening the Demon

s Queen
(Dardanos)

The Healer

s Heart
(Dardanos)

Once Wolf Bitten
(Dardanos)

Live or Die
(Dardanos)

The Seer

s Strength
(Dardanos)

The Warrior

s Woman
(Dardanos)

 

Romantic Suspense

Watching
(PAVAD)

Wanting
(PAVAD)

Second Chances: A PAVAD Duet

Hunting (PAVAD)

 

Coming Soon

A Warrior

s Quest (Dardanos)

Nalik (Dardanos)

Running (PAVAD)

 

 

 

Calle Jaye Brookes
is first and foremost a fiction writer. She enjoys crafting paranormal romance and romantic suspense. She reads almost every genre except horror. She spends most of her time juggling family life and writing, while reminding herself that she can

t spend all of her time in the worlds found within books. Calle Jaye loves to be contacted by her readers via email and at
www.CalleJBrookes.com

 

 

 

 

 

WATCHING

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CALLE J. BROOKES

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Lost River Lit
erary
name and imprint are the sole properties of independent publishers Calle J. Brookes and B.G. Lashbrooks. They cannot be reproduced or used in any manner; nor can any of their publications or designs
be used
without expressed written permission.

 

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author

s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, or locations, is entirely coincidental.

 

 

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

 

 

****

 

****

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright © 2012 Calle J. Brookes

ALLROMANCEEBOOKS VERSION

Cover by B.G. Lashbrooks

All rights reserved.

LSTRVR0000010

 

 

WATCHING

A PAVAD NOVEL

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter
1

****

Thank God it wasn

t her child

s crime scene they were hiking toward. That thought
ran continuously through
Dr. Georgia Dennis

s mind as she picked her way over fallen branches and loose rocks, only steps behind her partner.

What would the
girl
have felt as she

d been forced up this hill? What fears would have run through the
child

s
mind as the leaves cracked beneath her feet, as the mud
slipped
out beneath her steps? Had her hands been bound the entire time? Had she lost her balance? Had he pushed her down? How would the UNSUB—the Unknown Subject—have controlled his…catch?

Georgia

s breath caught in her throat as she tried to put herself in the girl

s shoes. She pushed away the feelings the girl

s parents must have felt, though
those
thoughts threatened to choke her. How could someone
do this? To a child? How could
he do this and not think of the pain and terror the child would be experiencing
?
How?

He may
be a sadist or a mission killer
.


Any evidence to back up your theory so early in the investigation
?

her partner and supervisor Michael Hellbrook asked.


Method of death...sir
.


Continue. Talk it out for me
.

Impatience was evident as he waited for her to climb the log.

The local agent, Elias Stanton, had met them at the base of the mountain to lead them to this crime scene.
He darted nervous glances between her and Hellbrook.
The tension between her and her supervisor was old news
to her
, something that just 
was
. She hardly noticed it anymore.

Georgia adjusted her backpack, scanning the overgrown trail for any signs of the killer the locals may have missed. She continued on. Her foot slipped on a loose rock and she kicked it aside. Had the killer considered that stone? Had he carried the rocks with him
up the trail
?

Stoning. It

s a traditional method of killing, used as far back as Biblical times. A young girl, just becoming aware of her sexuality. He sees it, decides to cleanse

therefore, mission killer.
He could also be a classic sadist
. Someone who w
a
ndered into the idea of stoning, possibly by throwing rocks at a small animal

or even a smaller child. Someone who enjoy
ed
watching
his victims suffer. Someone who pick
ed
those who c
ouldn

t retaliate. Or those he put into positions where they c
ouldn

t fight back
.


So someone who enjoy
ed
hurting others
?

Confusion tinged the local

s tone.
It didn

t surprise her.
Many agents—even if they were good agents—struggled with the idea of profiling.


Yes. And he

s raging against all females, especially those similar in type to the four victims. Were there any signs of sexual assault
?

Georgia hated to ask, especially since the victims in this case were all teenage girls. She hated when the victims were kids, always imagining her four-year-old son Matthew in their place. Imagining herself in their parents

places.
That
was
what she took from each case that dealt with children—the pain on the parents

faces.

She slipped her hand into her pocket, running a finger over the toy car her son had tucked in there that morning before they

d left the house.

He
 
was why she did this. For each of these
monster
s she took off the streets, the chance that one would get her baby lessened. She never lost sight of that. 
Her
son would not be a victim.


Preliminary findings were inconclusive. M.E. was nervous about doing an extensive autopsy. They

re
waiting for our go ahead to bring in our own medical examiner
.

Hellbrook barely looked at her.
That also didn

t surprise her. They didn

t have the strongest of relationships, by any means.
His fault. She

d tried.


And nothing

s been found in the seven hours since we were first notified
?


Uh...no, ma

am
.

Georgia kept her eyes on Hellbrook

s back as she followed him and the other man when they began hiking again.

I take it our medical examiner is on the way
?

Calling for one would have been Georgia

s job had she been left behind at the precinct. She normally handled the miscellaneous tasks that other agents didn

t have time to handle. That was her normal lot with Hellbrook

s team. Six months since she

d been assigned to his unit, and today was the first he

d let her out of the precinct. He

d had no choice—his customary partner was too sick to leave the precinct, and there were too many crime scenes for the rest of the team to cover.

She hated that it had come down to necessity for him to grant her request—one she

d made on every new case—but she was glad he finally had. She wanted to do her job, all aspects of it. And she really wanted the creep who

d targeted these four little girls for his sick game.

She wanted to be out there, 
needed
 
to be out there, stopping the monsters who preyed on the weak. 
That
 
was why she

d joined the FBI in the first place, 
that
 
was why she

d studied hard and earned two doctorates by the time she

d hit twenty-five.


Of course. Come on. It

ll be sunset soon and we need to get what we can before that point
.

Georgia hurried to keep up with him as his long legs ate up the trail. She understood his impatience; she needed to be at the scene just as much as he, but both she and Stanton were struggling to keep up.
What good would that do Hellbrook?

***

Hell kept one eye on Georgia, wanting to make certain she

the smallest member of his team

could handle the hike to the first crime scene. The animal trail they followed was not an easy path for any of them, but the petite Georgia would hav
e a tougher time
. She had to stretch in a few places or climb over logs and rocks that
he and Stanton
had little difficulty scaling.

He wanted to grab her arm and drag her
along
. He had always been an impatient man, especially when on the hunt for child-killers.
He forced himself to keep his
hands off his partner, letting the local agent help her when needed.

Hell sensed the other man enjoyed helping her.
And
she
would fight like
the devil
if
he
ever offered to help.
That was mostly his fault
for the way he

d treated her over the last six months. But habits were hard to break. Even for him.


He

s athletic,

she said when they took a short break.

Comfortable in this area
.


Local,

Hell added. It had been a tough climb for them, and he suspected it would get worse. The man they were searching for would have known that. And would not have attempted the climb if he hadn

t thought he

d be able to complete it. Confidence? Arrogance? Or just skilled?

Stanton, how much farther
?


The pit

s about another mile or so. Three or four decades back this area was mined for fill dirt. These pits scar the hills, most are overgrown now,
and most
are filled with water. Terrain made it difficult to dig large holes around here, so there are quite a few smaller ones. Steep sided, and not very wide at the bottom. Made it easy for the guy to trap these kids and use them for his target practice. First body was found in a forty-foot hole. Cadaver dogs sniffed her out
.

They hiked the rest of the way in silence. Hell ran a quick eye over his partner, making sure she was still with him. She looked fine, as if she

d barely broken a sweat. She looked
better
than fine, if Hell was being honest. She always did. Had he ever seen a woman look so put together when climbing through the mud-drench
ed
woods? Only Georgia Dennis,
princess
of the division her father had created.

The late April sun tangled in the dark brown curls poking out the back of the FBI issue cap she wore, distracting him for a moment. Dr. Dennis was an incredibly attractive woman
;
Hell couldn

t deny that. He had been aware of that from the moment they first met. Even when dressed in nondescript jeans and windbreaker like she was today, that small, exquisitely formed woman with pale skin and dark hair had a way of drawing male eyes. Had a way of tempting male hands to touch, to stroke. To tangle in that dark hair.

Dammit;
Hell shook off thoughts of his unwanted partner and refocused on the job at hand. He didn

t have time for the distraction that was Georgia Dennis.

The crime scene was as the photos had portrayed and taped off with standard yellow police tape. They stepped up to the barrier and studied the forty-foot hole. Hell

s stomach clenched in reaction; he

d struggled with heights since the age of five when he

d fallen out second story window
.

Georgia suffered no such weakness. She fingered the crime tape and peered down into the pit with careless disregard that she was four stories above the bottom.

The hole

s what? Forty feet deep
?

Both Stanton and Hell nodded.


Still, with the overgrowth on the sides, the grade

s about fifty to sixty degrees. The fall would injure, but probably not kill,

Stanton said.

We figure the guy used these pits as a type of holding pen
.


An organic cage, hard for his victims to escape, but not impossible,

Georgia said, her tone full of disgust and fury. Hell understood. He felt the same.

He likes to play games
.

Hell itched to grab the handle of the black backpack she wore everywhere and yank her back to his side. And hold her there.
Far away from that damned edge.
She stepped back seconds before he acted on that impulse.

She turned to Stanton.

How many miles from the other three crime scenes
?


Six miles. Is that important
?

Stanton asked.


It may tell us something later. No detail is too insignificant at this point
.

The nerves in Hell

s stomach loosened as Georgia took another step away from the edge.


Has anyone other than the search teams and the local M.E. and deputies been down there
?

Georgia asked.


No, a spring snow came in on the heels of finding the first and second bodies. Then there was the race of keeping up with the body count. Last two victims went missing two days ago and yesterday. Both bodies were found yesterday evening, less than six hundred feet apart
.

Stanton peered over the side once more.

Why
?


Because we need to go down there
.

She didn

t ask or wait for Hell

s permission, ducking under the crime tape and disappearing from his view within seconds.

Hell cursed before following.

Dennis

you could have waited for permission!

She moved quicker than a damned goat; the weeds, brambles, and mud slowing her only slightly. Hell stumbled the last few yards, then stopped a foot from his wayward agent and glared down at her.

Next time, Dr. Dennis, you wait for my orders before entering a sealed off area

especially one forty f
eet down! What if you

d fallen
?


Yes, sir. Next time you and I are at a crime scene together, I will be sure to ask your permission before entering
.

Her words held something Hellbrook couldn

t quite identify. He glared. He didn

t need this problem, even if he currently needed her.

See that you do. I

d hate to have to explain to your father why I let you fall off a cliff
.

She mumbled something under her breath that he
swore
was 
he

d assume you pushed me!
Surely she hadn

t said that? Did she honestly think that?

Excuse me, Dr. Dennis? What was that
?


She could have climbed out,
sir
.

Georgia stepped away from him, then shielded her eyes from the sun. She stared up the side.

Why didn

t she
?

Hell mimicked her actions, making a mental note to keep a closer eye on her if they remain
ed
partnered up for the investigation. Something in his gut told him he

d need to. Hell always trusted his gut. It had gotten him this far.

There were no drugs in her system

at least, according to the preliminary autopsy. Estimated time of death was mid-evening, day after disappearance
.


Question is
was she already dead when she entered the pit, or did he stone her while she was down there
?

Georgia pulled on a pair of latex gloves as she spoke, handing him a second pair.


Probably waited until she was down here. Either rolled her, carried her, or simply pushed her over the edge. The growth would have slowed her enough to not kill her outright
.

Hell pulled on his gloves. He examined the disturbed spot where fourteen-year-old Hailey Ann Michaels

body had landed for the final time. That poor child hadn

t deserved to be tossed aside like a man

s trash. Hell would find him and render him as insignificant as trash. Hailey Ann deserved that much and so much more.

When she was awake and aware enough he began pelting her with these
.

He motioned to the palm-sized stones that littered the area.
He grabbed one and examined it.


Still, why couldn

t she have hid
den
until he grew tired and left? Or did he out-wait her? There

s several places a girl her size could have hidden. Maybe he waited until she

d almost made it out and then pushed her down? That demonstrates an extreme amount of patience
.

Georgia mimicked him, grabbing another stone. Her brown eyes narrowed as she eyed him. Her hand clenched on the rock.

Go back up...sir
.

He considered, wondering if she planned to heave the rock at him. Her eyes were cool, her face a mask of professionalism. But there was
something
in her eyes. Hell mentally shrugged, then nodded. He wasn

t familiar enough with her style while in the field to know what she was thinking.

He

d never had her out in the field, either with him or any of the other CCU members. Not once since she

d been transferred to his team. She

d not been in the field with him since the afternoon they

d been with Agents Brockman and McLaughlin on a Seattle rooftop
, working a joint case just days after they

d met
. A sniper they

d been chasing had put a round through Georgia

s right shoulder. He

d never forgotten

still had nightmares

about her blood staining his favorite leather jacket, of how pale and small she

d been as he

d used his body as a human shield between her and the shooter. Had she not turned at the last second, she

d be dead. He

d also never forgotten how she

d trembled against him as he

d carried her to the waiting ambulance ten stories below. How light and insubstantial she

d felt as she

d clung to him, her arm clenched around his neck. How she

d not made a single sound. He shifted almost unconsciously, putting his body between her
s
and the top of the pit as he climbed. He hated having her out here, exposed.

He was silent as he climbed the incline. It wasn

t an easy climb for him

and he made every effort to keep his body in optimum physical shape. The job demanded it. It would not have been an easy climb for a petite and terrified teenage girl.

He turned back and looked down at his agent. She looked even smaller than he knew her to be, and she was no bigger than any of their victims.

Now what, doctor
?

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