Beautiful Maids All in a Row (11 page)

“Why?”

“I don't want some rookie trampling over my evidence or puking on the body.”

Silence. Then, “You Febes have no respect for us.”

“I have the utmost respect for you and your boys—you know that,” I assured him.

“The answer's no.”

I sighed. “Look, we both know this is going to be our case as soon as she's located. Not to mention the fact that kidnapping is a federal offense. This is
our
case.”

“There's no proof she's been kidnapped,” he countered. “She's just a missing person right now.”

“Bullshit! If you thought that, then why did you pull jurisdiction over the local police?” I asked.

“We're certain she's crossed county lines, and her body's probably going to be found on state property.”

“We don't know that yet.”

“Of course we do. Shenandoah's too far away.”

“So you admit you suspect the Woodsman,” I said.

He was silent on the other end.
Got him.
“We're not ruling it out as a possibility, no. But until then it's ours.”

“We're all on the same side, Roy. I know you want the publicity on this, and maybe, if you're nice now, we'll let you in on the investigation when we find her.”

“You have no authority to make deals, Iris.”

“But I do have the ear of the man who does,” I said. “And you know how persuasive I can be.”

He mulled this over for a moment. “Just one agent per park?”

“Yes. And when she's found, let our people examine the scene. No bullshit.”

“Fine, but we get credit for finding her no matter who does. And if he's apprehended in state, we're in on the bust.”

“You got it. We'll dispatch the men right away. Have you told your boys to concentrate only on the shores of the lakes and rivers?”

“Yes, Iris. We all don't have our heads up our asses here.”

“I didn't think you did.”

“You'll owe me for this one.”

“And I'll make good, I promise. Thanks again.”

“Well, I've always had a soft spot for you—you know that.”

“We do turn into marshmallows around each other, no?” We both chuckled. “ 'Bye.” I hung up the phone with a smile, then turned back to the table where all the men were situated. They stared at me wide eyed in what I thought was awe. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jones muttered, turning back to his file.

Whatever. “Call Richmond—tell them to send out a dozen of their best agents to each of the twelve parks in the area. Instruct them that they are just there to assist, not to boss the state police around. This isn't our case until we prove this is the Woodsman. Don't step on their toes.”

“We're going to need Agent Hudson's approval before we implement anything,” rat-faced Agent Roth said.

“You want to waste time on a live kidnapping? He'll agree. Just do it.”

Roth glared, and I glared back.
Asshole.
I raised my eyebrow in a dare, but he didn't take the bait. He just turned back to the map. I rolled my eyes and walked out of the car to find our wayward boss.

I found Luke in the empty dining car, sitting in a small booth with his head hung and hands on top of his head. If I didn't know any better I would have said he was praying, but Luke wasn't religious. “Luke,” I said from the door. Startled by my voice, his head jerked up. I walked over to the booth and took the seat opposite him. “Are you okay?”

“Odd question, coming from you.”

“Well, you know there can only be one crazy person on this team, and I'm afraid the position is filled.”

This got a smile. “I'm okay. Just need a minute. I'm sorry I yelled.”

“I'll forgive you if you tell me what's the matter,” I said with a grin.

“I'm just…” He trailed off. He shook his head and scoffed. “I can't believe I actually ever enjoyed this. I loved the chase, the strategizing, the…making a difference. I don't anymore. I can't stand it. I didn't even want this case. I tried to get out of it, but ‘best man for the job,' they called me. I refused, and they gave it to me anyway.” He scoffed again. “Next thing I know I'm in charge of the whole thing. I've barely slept since it began.”

“You seem to be doing a great job.”

“Tell that to Audrey Burke.”

“Why didn't you want it? You were always chasing after the big cases.”

“No,
you
were always chasing after them. I just came along for the ride.”

“Shut up. We both were,” I said. “Me for glory and you for promotions. And you've made it. You're in charge of the biggest case in America. Next thing you know, you'll have Reggie's job.”

“I don't want Reggie's job. I don't even want to work Violent Crimes anymore. I was quite happy in Art Theft.”

“You transferred to Art Theft?” I asked, absolutely stunned. “Why?”

He shook his head. “I told myself it was because it meant a promotion, but really I'd seen enough dead bodies to last four lifetimes. After seeing you…” He closed his eyes, trying to push the image out of his mind. “After
failing
you, I just couldn't do it anymore.”

My mouth dropped open from shock. “Luke, you didn't fail me.”

“When you needed me I was…with some woman whose name I never knew,” he said, voice hollow, “and didn't bother to answer my phone. If I had, who knows what would have happened? I would have gotten there in time.” He looked away from me and out into the black night. “You said I failed you, and you were right.”

“When I said that I was angry. I was
hurt.
I lashed out at everyone, especially you. I was drowning in guilt. It wasn't your fault we slept together, and it certainly wasn't your fault Hayden died.”

“It wasn't yours, either.”

It was my turn to look out into the night. “I could have been stronger. I should have killed him before he had a chance to get to Hayden. Instead I ran away like a coward.”

“The man had just stabbed you in the gut. What else were you supposed to do?”

“I should have looked for my gun, or pulled the knife out and stabbed him then and there. It was my job to protect innocent people, and instead of doing that, I decided to save my own hide. He didn't want Hayden; he wanted me.”

“There was no way you could have known Hayden would come home that moment.”

“I should have—”

“Iris, bad things happen,” Luke said. “It's nobody's fault; it's just life. There's no rhyme or reason to it; it just
is.
Nothing you could have done differently that night would have changed the outcome. Nothing you could have done weeks before would have changed it. He didn't die because we slept together. He didn't die because you failed at your job. It was his time to go, and you just need to accept that. And once you do, maybe you can begin to live again, like he would have wanted you to.”

“Is that why you wanted me on this case? To get me to accept life?”

“No. I'm not that selfless. I did it because the idea of taking on this case without you was unthinkable. Every time I'm about to bust someone, I look to my left for you. And each time I find some stranger in your spot, it just feels wrong. You're my partner. No one else will do.”

I had no idea what to say except, “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” He squeezed my hand again. “And you're the only person I wouldn't shoot for throwing an ashtray at me. Anyone else…” He waved his hand. “Dust.”

“Sorry about that,” I said.

“I'm sure I deserved it.”

“Not even a little.”

His smile faded. “I
really
missed you.
So much.
More than I ever thought I would.”

I reached across the table, taking his hand. “I missed you too.”

He smiled again, this time with the full force of his heart. I met his eyes. They shone with so much warmth and love I felt myself blush. His grin changed as my cheeks did, with a mix of mischief and longing. My cheeks felt like they were on fire. I hadn't been looked at like that in years. The butterflies had come out of their cocoons after a two-year hibernation and fluttered at full force. I felt like a gawky teenager being flirted with by the Prom King. I should have felt uneasy, but I didn't.

I liked it.

The door between the trains swished open, and Luke broke our gaze to look up. He quickly released my hand, which I pulled back. His back straightened and the smile vanished. All business. I turned around to see who the interloper was. A beet-red Clarkson stood in front of the door, unsure whether to leave the room or not.

“Yes, Clarkson?” Luke asked, his voice full of authority.

“Um, the Richmond office is on the phone. They need your final go-ahead to send out our people to the parks.”

Luke's eyes narrowed. “Agents in the parks? When did that directive occur? I thought—” Clarkson and I exchanged a glance. Luke saw it and his eyes narrowed in confusion. “What happened?”

I cleared my throat. “I called Superintendent Campbell and negotiated. He's allowing one of our agents in on the search in each of the state parks so we can start preserving evidence right away. In exchange they get credit for the find, and if we catch him in Virginia, they get to be there when we do.”

“And he agreed?”

“Almost immediately,” Clarkson said.

Luke did a double take. “Thank you.”

I shrugged. “It's what I'm here for.”

A quick smile crossed his face and mine. God, he was handsome when he smiled. I'd forgotten that. My stomach did another somersault. At that rate it could have won a medal in the next Olympics.

“Sir?” Clarkson asked. Luke and I turned. “Um, Richmond's still waiting for your orders.”

Luke cleared his throat. “Right.” He scooted out of the booth. “Are you coming?” he asked me.

I shook my head. “I'll meet you in there.”

Luke nodded and walked out behind Clarkson, leaving me to gain control of myself again. It took a full minute for the flopping to stop, and that was accomplished only by thinking of Roger when he was changing his pants in the office and I walked in on him.
Ugh.
I really needed to rein in my hormones before I started drooling. That would have done a great deal for my respectability. I shook my head and let out a long sigh. I really felt like banging my head against the table to reset my damn brain. It was just a stupid smile and a little friendly handholding. I'd never felt that around him before. Okay, not that much anyway, except for the night we…
no.
I threw a tree across that train of thought. I'd just been away from the opposite sex for too long. Under the right circumstances even Roth would have looked good to me. Especially if he gazed at me like…I pushed the image out of my mind. It was just an emotional moment, nothing more. It wouldn't happen again.

Yeah, even I didn't believe that.

Audrey Burke was abducted in the parking lot of her three-story redbrick office building. The only indication that she was ever there was her locked Xterra, which sat among a flurry of police cruisers and black CSI vans. Two dozen people behind yellow crime-scene tape had already begun examining the pavement, the trees, anything they thought could be a clue.

The Virginia Medical Center sat on Route 250, a busy street even at five in the morning. Easy access in and out, good for a quick getaway. He took a chance abducting her here. Any passing motorist could have seen him grab her, but none had come forward yet. As we rolled by the building, I glanced up at the second-floor windows and saw men in Crime Scene Investigation windbreakers examining Audrey's office. It was really a waste of manpower since she was grabbed outside, but as always, better safe than sorry.

Uniformed police officers stood at various spots around the police tape, trying to keep the lookie-loos out. People's desire to see dead bodies had always bothered me. Did they really need to see a man missing the top of his head lying dead on the pavement? Did they want that image to follow them everywhere for the rest of their life? Of course, I chose to do just that as my profession, so who was I to throw stones? My grandfather always said, “Where there's shit, there's flies.” I thought of this phrase whenever I saw the press. They fed off torture and degradation, and the Woodsman provided both that night. I counted five news vans, all with their antennas pointing to the sky. Newscasters stood in front of their cameras, speaking into their microphones and occasionally gesturing behind them. The newspapers were here as well. Flashbulbs popped, lighting up the night sky with splotches of white. This was huge. A prominent citizen kidnapped in front of her office with no witnesses—by a serial killer, no less. The FBI brought in. It was a reporter's wet dream.

We all shuffled out of the car and walked to the tape where a uniformed officer waited. The men all pulled out their badges to show the officer. He nodded and lifted the tape for us to pass. We walked over as a tight group to the blue Xterra, where a swarm of CSI techs were hard at work. Some dusted for prints on the handles and doors while others inspected the interior and exterior of the car. There were only two evidence markers next to the car, so precious little physical evidence had been found yet.

An eerie purple light illuminated the whole car as a tech swept the floor with a black light to see if there were any fluids present. I stepped toward it and poked my head through the open door. “Have you found anything?” I asked the CSI tech.

He sat up, taking off his protective glasses. “Nothing. No prints, no fibers, and no evidence of foul play.”

“Nothing?”

“Judging from what I've seen, or really what I haven't seen, I'd have to say she walked out of here all by herself.”

“It is a possibility,” Clarkson said.

“Possible, not probable,” I said. “This reeks of the Woodsman.”

“I agree,” Luke said.

“Well, you're going to have a hard time proving it,” the tech said. “We've been here for two hours and haven't found a thing. Nothing in the office, in the bushes, nowhere. This guy's good.”

“There's nothing here,” Roth said with a sigh.

I spun around to face him. “There's a lot here,” I said. “
He's
here. What happened is here. Don't be so quick to dismiss.” I turned around so I didn't have to see his sneering face, but I could feel the daggers nonetheless. “I think we should do a recreation. Maybe something will dawn on us.”

“Good idea,” the tech said, jumping out of the car and shutting the door.

The men followed me the fifty feet between the car and the building until we reached two glass doors with wire mesh inside that served as the main entrance to the building. I positioned myself in front of the doors where Audrey would have been. Luke stood off to the side for a better vantage point. I turned around and looked at the tech. “We're positive she wasn't abducted inside?” I asked.

“The door was locked when the first officer arrived,” the tech said. “Each person with an office has a key, and there was nobody but Dr. Burke here past eight. Most left around seven.”

“And we're sure she left at eight thirty?”

“She called the nanny saying she was leaving the office right then. That was eight thirty,” Luke answered.

“Okay, so about five minutes from the time she called to when she actually steps outside the building. Gives her time to pack up her stuff and turn everything off. So she's outside the building approximately eight thirty-five.”

“I'll go with that,” the tech said.

“He could have grabbed her right here after she locked the door,” Luke said.

I looked to the left and right. The doors were right in the middle of the building, with about fifty feet of building going either way. There were no bushes or dark corners to hide in, just a line of red brick and open space.

“No place to hide,” I said.

“He could have run at her,” Jones suggested.

“No, he couldn't control her actions if he did that. She could have run or signaled for help. He prefers a blitz attack. He would have grabbed her somewhere between the door and car.”

I began walking toward the car at the pace Audrey would have walked. I was Audrey Burke. I'd just finished a long day tightening braces, and I was tired but anxious to get home. I walked quickly but not furiously. All I could think about was getting home, tucking my kids in for the night, immersing myself in a warm bath with a glass of wine, and falling asleep. Though, like all women alone at night, I was aware of my surroundings, scanning the empty parking lot for anything strange. I reached the car and stopped at the driver's door, relieved to be there.

I turned to the men who had followed a few feet behind me. “All the doors were locked?” I asked the tech.

“Yes.”

“Okay, if I was him, this is where I'd grab her. She's boxed in pretty well. The side mirror is in front of her, the car to the right. He'd come up behind her so there's only one way to run. But he's quick. He has the needle out in his right hand and most likely puts his left hand over her mouth to stifle her screams.” I turned to Luke. “Luke. You're him; I'm her. Realistic as possible. We'll assume the drug takes thirty seconds to take effect.”

I could tell by his furrowed brow that Luke wasn't sold on the idea. “Are you sure you want to do this? I don't think—”

“Luke,” I said, “it's okay. It has to be done, so let's just get it over with.”

After a pause, he gave a reluctant nod. “Everyone clear out!” he shouted. The agents and police milling around walked away as ordered. I didn't want an audience, especially for something so hard to watch. One of the men might have pulled Luke off me and ruined everything. Happened before. And speaking of an audience…as the men left, I took a quick glance around the lot for reporters, but I could see only the lights from their vans. I couldn't see them, so they couldn't see me. It would look very odd if a member of the FBI attacked a defenseless woman for no reason. Lord knew what the headlines would say. When the majority of the people were safely away, I turned to Luke and nodded. It was time for the fun to begin.

I turned around and pretended to put a key into the car's lock. Out of nowhere, a hand came behind me from the right, covering my nose and mouth. Even though I was expecting it, it was still a big enough shock. I started screaming as loud as possible, but his hand muffled most of the sound. My screams came out no louder than a whisper. Using his grip on my jaw, he pulled me tight to his body, making it easier to control me and leaving me nowhere to run. Almost immediately, I felt his finger press against my neck, imitating the needle entering. This caused me to panic more. Who knew what he'd just put into my body?

A second after he injected me, his right arm was around my right arm and upper chest, then finally my left arm. I couldn't move my arms above the elbow. I tried to pull his arms off me, but his grip was too tight and I had no leverage. He had total control of me. The only thing I could do was scream and buck my lower body. I kicked and kicked, but his grip was so tight my legs just lingered in the air. I moved my body back and forth, left and right, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. His grip on me tightened. Then he pressed my body against the car; I was wedged between my strong attacker and a ton of metal. I wasn't going anywhere. I tried to turn my head to see my attacker, but his hold on my jaw didn't allow it. I stood there, screaming and fighting to no avail. At the end of the thirty seconds, I was out.

Luke released me, and it felt as if I'd just been taken out of a vice. I managed a few deep breaths, allowing a little oxygen finally in.

“You okay?” Luke asked.

“Yeah,” I panted. “Let me get some air.” It took a few more seconds until my lungs no longer felt like two deflated balloons. Footsteps on the pavement came from behind me. I looked up and noticed the agents had returned to the car. They all looked down at me with awe, even Roth. I smiled to reassure them. “I'm fine, guys.” My breathing returned to normal a second later. “That was horrible! She must have been terrified. I was and I knew my attacker. I could barely breathe.”

“You put up a good fight,” the tech said. “You kicked Agent Hudson's shins a few times.”

I turned to Luke. “You okay?”

“I'll live,” he replied with a wry smile. “If she fought as hard as you did, he should have some pretty bad bruises on his shins. Could help with an ID.”

“Could she have bitten or scratched him?” the tech asked.

“He probably wore heavy gloves,” I said. “If she bites or scratches, all she'll get is glove.”

“Less physical evidence, too,” Luke said.

“That and if they hurt him, a little of the fantasy dies,” I explained. “He's set this all up so there's as little risk to him but maximum pleasure.
Her
hurting
him
is not an option. A few knocks to the shins are nothing; drawing blood is.”

“So where does he come from?” Luke asked. “Where does he hide?”

“That is a good question,” I said. “She's parked right in the middle, with empty space all around. If she took the route I did, directly across the lot, she wouldn't go near any bushes or trees. The only possible hideaways are about thirty feet from the car, so he couldn't hide there. A woman alone in a parking lot at night is alert. She'd hear someone running up to her and have more time to scream or prepare.”

“He could have waited in her car,” Clarkson offered.

“The doors were locked,” the tech said.

“I can't see him taking the time to lock the car doors with her unconscious,” Luke said.

“So that leaves?” the tech asked.

“He was in his car waiting for her,” Luke said.

I nodded. “That'd be my guess.” I took a few steps away from the car to survey the lot. There had to have been about fifty parking spots. That was a lot of empty space. “He'd wait until the lot was nearly empty so he could have his choice of spots and park either directly behind her or a few rows away so the car was close. He'd get out of the car when he saw her office light go off and go over to his passenger side to avoid being seen. She'd come out, walk to the car, he'd quickly leave his hiding spot and pounce. After she's out, he picks up her body, walking the few feet to his car. He'd get in his car and drive away. Easy as pie.”

“Makes sense,” the tech said.

“Whatever fibers and hair he shed outside got blown away by the wind.”

“We'll keep looking just in case,” the tech said.

“Okay, the moment we find her, I want you to abandon this place,” Luke said.

“Okay.” The tech nodded at Luke, smiled at me, and walked back toward the building to do his thing. Waste of time, in my opinion.

“I think we should talk to the family,” I said to Luke.

“We have people over there already,” Luke said. “CSI's going through all her personal items now.”

“
I
need to go over there,” I insisted.

“So you can make more promises to grieving families?”

“To know why she was chosen, wise-ass. To see her kids, especially the boy.”

“I don't think that's a good idea,” he said a little too forcefully.

“Of course it is. We have to do this, and we might as well get it over with. You're a tough guy; you can handle a few crying women and children.”

Luke, like most agents, loathed talking to the family of a victim. A root canal was more pleasurable. These were people who had just found out their daughter, son, or wife was never coming back to them. They could never tell them they loved them ever again. They could never make up for the harsh words said over the years. They could never hold them again or feel their warmth. Their tears and pleas to God could rock you to the core. These were broken people, living through hell, and you had to interrogate them about their loved one's sexual habits. Drug habits. Even accuse them of having involvement in the crime. I'd been spit on, screamed at, even slapped, but it had to be done.

It was time to make someone's worst day even worse.