BATON ROUGE (6 page)

“Okay,” she surprised him by saying.

Together they left the room and headed to the elevator. “At least we got a little more information,” she said as they rode down to the first floor. “We know that right now they are all alive.”

“And I’m adding to Terry and Matt’s workload by having them check every case of any couple murdered in their homes or under suspicious circumstances in the past fifteen years in the state,” he replied.

“That could take months of work,” she said as they left the elevator and headed for the front door of the building.

Cup of Joe’s was a small hole-in-the-wall coffee shop three buildings down from the FBI building. It was a popular place for tired agents to fuel up or wind down.

Joe’s menu offered no fancy froufrou drinks, nothing but coffee and a variety of muffins, cookies and little cakes. As Georgina took a seat at one of the narrow booths against the wall, Alexander ordered two cups of coffee, one black and one with cream and sugar.

When he joined her with the drinks, she was curled into the corner between the back of the booth and the wall. She looked more fragile than he’d ever seen her. As he sat down, she quickly straightened, her eyes overly bright as if she were working too hard to keep it together.

He slid her coffee halfway across the table, but when she went to reach for it, he grabbed her hand in his. He held tight even as she tried to pull away.

“Just sit for a minute and let me hold your hand,” he said softly.

“I don’t need hand-holding,” she protested, but she didn’t attempt to pull her hand away again.

“You were amazing,” he said. “You kept your cool and played your own game with him. You forced him into letting us hear from one of the victims.”

“It didn’t feel amazing. It was terrifying,” she admitted. “I was so afraid that if I said something wrong there would be terrible consequences.”

This time when she pulled her hand back, he released it and watched as she wrapped both her slightly trembling hands around the hot foam cup of coffee.

Alexander picked up his own cup and leaned back against the booth. “For some reason or another it’s obvious that he’s decided he wants a relationship with you.”

Her eyes widened but quickly resumed their normal shape. “If that’s what it takes to solve this, then I’ll be his best phone buddy.”

Protests rose to his throat, but he swallowed them. The need to protect her from having any contact with this man was overwhelming, but he had to think of what was in the best interest of solving the crime. She was a member of the task force. It was her job to do whatever she could to help catch the creep.

He couldn’t think like a man who needed to protect his woman. She hadn’t been his woman in a very long time. When he looked back on their marriage, he sometimes wondered if she’d ever really been his woman.

They sat in silence, sipping their hot coffee. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. He was accustomed to her being a woman of few words.

It was finally she who broke the silence. “If what he said about his parents is true, then he’s already killed and won’t hesitate to kill again.” She took another sip of her drink and then continued. “You know he won’t let them live. Once he’s gotten whatever he thinks he needs from them, he’ll kill them all.”

Her eyes held a hollowness, as if she were already grieving for their loss. He didn’t try to tell her differently. He knew what she said was true. “All the more reason we’ve got to work every angle to find him before that can happen.”

“He’ll keep calling me.” She said it as a statement, not as a question.

Alexander nodded. “Yes, I think he will. He’s connected with you and I think he’ll want to maintain that connection until the end, whatever the end looks like.” He took another drink of his coffee and then leaned forward. “What you said, about your childhood being bad. Was that true?”

She released a sigh, as if she’d known he’d ask and yet had hoped he wouldn’t. “Yes, it’s true, I had a difficult childhood, but it’s not something I want to talk about.” Her chin lifted a bit, as if daring him to pursue the topic.

It had always been that way with her. When he’d attempted to dig too deep, he’d been met with resistance. He’d quickly learned not to try to get into anything about her past. He’d just been happy to have her in his life. But apparently he hadn’t been enough for her.

“Maybe the tech department and Tim will be able to enhance any background noise on the recording or they’ll be able to get a handle on his speech pattern and give us some ideas about education or where he might be from if he isn’t a native,” he said.

“Hopefully, when he calls again, I’ll be able to get more from him. More about the murder of his parents, more of his background information or something else important,” she said. “We need to find them.” Her eyes took on a haunted look. “Macy will be the first one he’ll kill. Even though she’s with her mother and father, she has to be so afraid. No child should ever be that afraid.”

He had to fight his instinct to once again reach out and grab her hand, to get up and move to sit beside her and pull her into his arms. He had a feeling she knew that kind of fear, the kind no child should ever know. She had lived it in her “bad” childhood.

“You know how dangerous it is for you to lose your objectivity,” he said softly. “You know that it’s not good to identify too closely with any victim or the perp. Trust me, I lived it. Get too emotionally involved with a victim and it will destroy you if things go bad.”

She took a drink of her coffee, her gaze locked with his. “Do you still have nightmares?”

“Only when I sleep,” he said in an effort to lighten the mood. “What about you?”

“Occasionally I have bad dreams, but not as often as I used to. I work so hard I usually fall into bed too exhausted to dream.”

“That’s good, and I hope it stays that way.”

She smiled at him. “Was this a mental-wellness-check cup of coffee?”

He returned her smile. “Maybe a little bit. It would shake up any seasoned agent to be receiving phone calls from a perp. I should have known you’d be strong enough to handle it.”

“If it’s a chance to get those people home safely, then I can handle anything.” She finished her coffee and grabbed her purse. “I need to get home.”

“Wait a minute. I’ll walk you to your car since we’re parked in the same lot.” He got up and threw their disposable coffee cups into a trash bin and then they stepped out into the September night air.

“It’s odd, he called me both times at about the same time of the day,” she said as they headed back down the sidewalk toward the parking lot behind the FBI building. “Around four o’clock.”

“Maybe he works a job and that’s his break time?” Alexander speculated.

“It’s Sunday, you would think he wouldn’t be at work at all today.”

“We’ll have to wait and see if the pattern continues. That could be another potential clue in this mess we have.”

“Terry and Matt said the investigations that took place in Bachelor Moon and in Mystic Lake look pretty solid, so they probably aren’t going to find anything there to help us.”

“How about we end the night by not talking about the crimes,” he said.

She cast him a sideways glance. “Then what do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know...the weather, the latest movie you’ve seen, what you’re reading?”

She grinned at him, that impish grin that always managed to stir a wealth of emotion inside him. “The weather is sultry, I can’t remember the last movie I saw and I’m reading Michelle Davison’s book.”

“And that begs the questions that lead right back to talking about the case,” he replied with an answering grin. “So, learning anything new about the missing agents?”

“Actually, I didn’t know that Jackson’s father was a criminal,” she replied.

A shaft of pain shot through him at thoughts of his friend. “It was Jackson’s biggest shame. His father was a con man who married wealthy older women and then drained their savings and divorced them or arranged for accidents to happen to them. Jackson helped put his father in prison, but when he got out, he wanted Jackson to pay. When Jackson was in Kansas City, he had a showdown with his father, who was shot to death by another agent.”

“That part of it wasn’t in the book,” she said as they reached her car.

“It only happened a couple of days before Jackson came back here. Michelle wouldn’t have known about it when she wrote the book. She was focused solely on Jackson’s role in the Twilight Killer case.”

“Well, I guess I’ll see you at seven in the morning,” she said as she clicked her key fob to unlock her doors.

He grabbed her arm and turned her back to face him before she could open her car door. She looked up at him curiously. “Georgina, I just want to warn you not to let him get inside your head.”

Unable to help himself, he reached up and stroked two fingers down her delicate jawline, stopping when he reached her chin. It was an old habit, one that had always ended before with him tipping her head back so he could take total possession of her lips.

He wanted to kiss her, he desperately wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss her until her head spun and her brain was filled with nothing but him.

To his surprise, without him urging her chin upward, she dropped her head back slightly, as if inviting him to finish the old routine.

He didn’t hesitate. He lowered his mouth to hers, tentatively at first and when she didn’t protest he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close and deepened the kiss.

She tasted like coffee and heat. The kiss evoked old memories. She tasted like home. He wanted to kiss her forever, but before he could make a fool of himself, he reluctantly ended the kiss and released her from his arms.

She stared at him for a long moment and raised a finger to rub across her full lower lip. “You know we can’t go back, Alex,” she said softly.

“I know,” he replied. “But if that creep starts to mess with your mind, if he gets too far into your head, I want you to think about me, about kissing me and hopefully that will keep you grounded.”

“You have a lot of confidence in the power of your kiss,” she said with a wry smile.

He laughed. “You used to tell me that when I kissed you, you couldn’t think about anything else. Maybe some of that old magic still exists...at least enough to keep you mentally stable against a killer.”

“We’ll see,” she replied and then got into her car. With a wave of her hand, she started the engine and pulled out.

He watched her taillights until they disappeared from view and only then did he walk to his own car. He sat behind the steering wheel and leaned his head back.

The truth was that he wanted to go back in time. He wanted a do-over with Georgina. He’d never understood why she’d walked out on him in the first place.

She’d been by his side when he’d gone through the worst of his depression, and when things seemed to finally be back on track, when he’d eventually gotten his head back on straight, she’d decided she needed out and he had been left with questions that had never been answered.

He hoped by the time they solved this crime he’d have some of those questions answered and maybe, just maybe, he and Georgina would be back together where he believed they belonged.

Chapter Six

That kiss.

That damnable kiss.

It had kept her tossing and turning all night, fighting against the old feelings the kiss had evoked. When she’d finally fallen asleep, she had dreamed of the two of them together in the bed in their master suite making love.

Alex had been a passionate man and he’d stirred a want, a desire inside her she’d never known before him. He was like an intoxicant to her and she to him. She’d wanted him the first time she’d met him and she’d wanted him the day she walked away from him.

The kiss and the memories of those dreams had remained in her head the next day when she arrived at work. She’d timed her arrival to be right at seven, knowing that most of the team would already be present and there would be no time for any personal talk between her and Alex.

She had to keep things strictly professional between them, and last night she’d allowed a slip that couldn’t be repeated. She couldn’t be pulled back into Alex’s life in any meaningful way. He deserved a better woman than she would ever be.

“Let’s get updates,” Alex said as Georgina slid into her chair at the conference table.

“Georgina, you’ve been researching Michelle Davison and Jax White. Anything earth-shattering come from your work so far?”

“Michelle was born and raised here in Baton Rouge. She attended the Baton Rouge College, and soon after graduating with a degree in journalism, she published her first book, an in-depth look at the Baxter kidnapping case. For those of you who don’t know, Kimberly Baxter was kidnapped at the age of sixteen and held captive for two years at which time she managed to escape. The book got rave reviews and Michelle has written three more books since then, the latest the one that brought her to our attention.”

Part of her information she’d gained the day before, but much of what she had learned had occurred last night when Alex’s kiss had burned her lips and made sleep impossible.

“She’s never been arrested, hasn’t even had a traffic ticket and seems to be squeaky clean,” she continued. “But that’s not the case with her boyfriend. Before he hooked up with Michelle three years ago, he was in and out of jail for assault, public drunkenness and a variety of misdemeanors. The most important point of interest I found out late last night is that Jax’s parents died in a fire in their home nine years ago while Jax was away on a floating trip with some buddies. I’m waiting to get a file on the case to look further into their deaths.”

“So the author and her boyfriend don’t fall off our persons-of-interest list,” Frank said.

Alex turned to the whiteboard where both Michelle’s and Jax’s names were written in bold red marker. “They’ll stay right there until we can clear them of any culpability.”

“Too bad they’re up there all alone,” Terry said.

“I might be able to add a name to that short list,” Frank said. “I was surfing the internet late last night and discovered some kook who runs his own ‘news’ show. His name is Roger Cambridge and he’s been following these cases since the family disappeared from Bachelor Moon. Last night he talked about the task force. He had all of our names listed and when I checked his previous posts, he had photos taken in Bachelor Moon and Mystic Lake during the investigations.”

Georgina saw the light that shone from Alex’s eyes, the shine of a predator scenting prey. She’d seen that same light in his eyes just before he’d taken her to bed. “Did you get an address?”

Frank nodded. “He lives in unit 215 at the Beacon Apartments just off Beacon Street, across from the college campus. He’s twenty-eight years old, and according to the stats I checked he has a growing fan base. He does his news show three times a week, on Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday nights.”

Georgina knew the apartment complex. It catered to college students who preferred parties to class work, and she knew that the local cops were regulars there on the weekends, busting up fights or arresting underage drinkers.

“We’ve handed addresses of over forty empty buildings that are surrounded by more than three acres of land to the cops,” Tim said. “They’re in the process of checking out those locations while Jeff and I continue to compile addresses.”

Alex nodded and then turned his gaze to Nicholas, who had looked surprised by Frank’s new information. “Looks like your partner just evened the score for your showboating yesterday,” he said. “Both of you continue to work together to get me more connections, no matter how tenuous between these people.” He directed his gaze at Nicholas. “Team players, that’s what I want from everyone.”

Nicholas gave a curt nod of his head, but Georgina had a feeling this little dressing down wouldn’t affect the eager agent’s desire to lone-wolf it and save the day.

“You all have your work,” Alex continued. “Georgina and I are taking off to check out Roger Cambridge. If anything breaks here, call me.”

Georgina stood as Alex left the head of the table. Despite the fact that it was obvious they would once again be spending time alone, she was determined that their conversation would remain strictly professional.

He was worried about their killer getting into her head, but she was equally concerned about Alex getting into her head. She couldn’t allow either man in.

“Sleep well?” he asked as they exited the building and headed toward his car.

“Like a baby,” she replied. Was he wondering if the kiss had shaken her up? Was he hoping that it had disturbed her, forced her to remember how it had once been between them?

The physical side of their marriage had never been at issue. They had both been passionate and giving and each time they’d made love it had been beyond magical.

“How did you sleep?” she asked and then instantly regretted the question as his eyes deepened and a familiar slow grin curled his lips.

“Do you want me to tell you about my dreams?” he asked.

“Not unless you thought of something to help solve the case,” she replied. She opened the passenger door and got into the car, wondering if he’d had the same kind of erotic dreams she’d had of them together.

Damn that kiss anyway.

“Thank God I talked Miller into doing the press interview this morning without our attendance,” he said as he made the turn to take them toward the college campus.

“I always hate being in a press conference,” she replied. “We all stand behind Miller looking like trained monkeys ready for action.”

Alexander laughed. “I never really thought about it that way before.” They were silent for a few miles and then he spoke again, knowing he was navigating dangerous topics.

“Do you ever think about it? About our marriage? About our time together?” he asked.

“Sometimes,” she admitted after a long hesitation.

“We had some good times.” He shot her a surreptitious glance. She remained staring straight ahead out the window and she was just as beautiful in profile as she was straight-on.

“We did,” she agreed, not looking at him. “But that was then and this is now. Every time we’re alone together, you can’t talk about the past. It’s over, Alex, and we’re here to do a job.”

She didn’t turn to look at him and for that reason an edge of frustration rippled through him. “I was happy with you.” He pulled into a parking spot in front of the Beacon Apartments. He cut the engine but remained buckled in the seat. He stared at her until she sighed and turned to look at him. “I just want to know what happened, what I did to make you leave. Was it because I fell apart after the Gilmer case?” He’d always wondered if the weakness he’d shown after that case had somehow turned her off, had made her see him as less of a man.

“Oh, Alex, no. It had nothing to do with you.” Her eyes shimmered in the morning light, like green leaves on a newly budded tree. “I just wasn’t happy. I realized that I wasn’t meant to be in a relationship.”

Her eyes darkened with an uncharacteristic plea. “You have to leave it alone. Please don’t pick at old scabs. Otherwise I’ll have to request that I be taken off the task force and that will hurt my career.”

Alexander suddenly felt small, and recognized in some part of his brain that he was trying to force something from Georgina that she couldn’t or wouldn’t give to him. He had to let it go. He had to let her go and stay with the unanswered questions that would always plague him where she was concerned.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been completely unprofessional where you’re concerned and it won’t happen again,” he said sincerely.

“I just need you to treat me as part of the team,” she said. “Nothing more and nothing less.”

“Done,” he said and unbuckled his seat belt. “Now, let’s go in and see what the deal is with this hotshot internet reporter.”

He heard her sigh of relief as she got out of the passenger door and he mentally kicked himself for being a fool. He hadn’t realized until now that he’d been holding onto the thought of them somehow, someway getting back together again since the moment she’d left him.

He had to keep his head in the game of this case. It was time to let go of foolish fantasies that would never be. Georgina was gone to him as the seven missing people were gone to the world. He would do everything in his power to find those seven people, but he had to let Georgina go.

Minutes later they stood in front of unit 215. The hallway stank of stale smoke and food, with an underlay of urine and vomit...definitely a party floor. The apartments were quiet. The students who lived here either were still sleeping or had already left for early morning classes.

As they approached unit 215, he couldn’t help but notice that Georgina appeared more relaxed than she’d been since the first time she’d walked into the conference room that morning and saw him there.

He knocked on the door where Roger Cambridge resided. There was no reply. He knocked again, this time harder. “Hang on, wait a damn minute,” a deep male voice called from inside.

The door finally opened to reveal a big guy clad in an undershirt and boxers. His hair was light brown and definitely sporting the bed-head look. “What the hell?” he demanded. “Everyone knows I work nights and sleep late in the mornings.”

“Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep,” Georgina said and gazed pointedly at his hair. “It’s obvious your hair hasn’t had enough.” She flipped out her identification as Alexander showed his.

“We have some questions to ask you,” Alexander said. “You want to do it out in the hallway or are you going to invite us in?”

Roger raked a hand through his unruly hair and then opened his door. “Come on in. Do you mind if I at least pull some pants on?”

“Go ahead,” Alexander said as they stepped into the small living room that had the feel of a very low budget television studio. Several computers sat on a desk, along with a couple of high-powered lights on stands. A large bulletin board appeared to serve as a backdrop and held a map of the United States, photos of the missing FBI agents and photos of the crime scenes.

Alexander exchanged a glance with Georgina, who shrugged and sat on a sofa shoved against one wall.
Freaky fan, or just a freak making news so he can report it?
Alexander wondered.

Roger returned to the room, now clad in a pair of worn jeans and with his hair damp and combed. “I assume you’re here to ask me questions about my part in the missing FBI agents case,” he said. He picked up his cell phone from the desk. “Mind if I videotape this interview?”

“The only person doing any kind of taping is going to be me,” Alex replied and pulled a small tape recorder from his pocket.

“Put your phone down,” Georgina said in a stern voice.

He placed his phone back on the desk and then slumped down into the desk chair. “I can tell by your tones that there’s no good cop / bad cop thing that’s going to happen. You’re both bad cops, right?”

“You’ve been watching too much television,” Alexander replied dryly. “We just want to ask you some questions...like how you have photos of crimes scenes that haven’t been released to the public.”

He was particularly interested in the picture that depicted Sam and Daniella’s kitchen, with the milk and cookies on the table and a chair overturned. That was the only scene where it was obvious something wrong had happened.

“I follow crime for my show.” Roger leaned forward, his round face animated. “The Roger Dodger Crime Scene Show. Have either of you ever caught it on the internet?” He gave them no time to reply. “Well, I guess one of you did. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Actually it was a colleague of ours who caught your show last night,” Alexander said. “And I’d like to know how you got that photo of the Connellys’ kitchen. It was obviously taken during the crime scene investigation.”

Roger beamed proudly. “Unfortunately, I can’t divulge my sources. It’s one of those amendment rights. But I’m very good at my job, and my job is to get as close to the investigation as possible, to make my viewers feel as if they know everything that’s happening with these cases.”

“Why these particular cases?” Georgina asked. “There’s all kind of crimes happening all around the country.”

“When I first heard that a former FBI agent, his wife and their kid had disappeared from Bachelor Moon, it felt like a story that might be big, so I immediately headed down to Bachelor Moon and started doing newscasts about that case.”

“And how did you hear about the Mystic Lake case?” Alexander asked, at the same time trying not to be distracted by the scent of Georgina so close to him.

“I check all the major news sources all the time. I caught wind of that one from a Kansas City source and left here by plane. I rented a car in Kansas City and then drove to Mystic Lake and started on-location podcasts.”

For the next hour Alexander and Georgina grilled the baby-face Roger Dodger, who appeared open and eager to help them in any way possible. Unfortunately, nothing he had to offer was any help.

By the time they left his apartment Alexander’s head was jumbled with thoughts. Neither of them spoke until they were back in his car.

“I’ve heard of perps insinuating themselves into some element of the investigation,” he said thoughtfully. “I don’t know if that’s the case with Roger or not.”