Beautiful Maids All in a Row (6 page)

“If memory serves, it was
me
who talked down Bob Wallace from shooting that boy. It was
me
who figured out Meriwether was the Rosetta Ripper. If you were working alone on that one, that psycho fuck would still be tearing up little girls.”

“I never said you weren't a good agent.”

“No, that I was just riding your coattails all those years. But if that were true, then what the hell are you doing here begging for my help?” He didn't say a word. “I'm an asset, and you know that. I can help you catch him. I know how you do fieldwork. I won't be some tourist trampling on evidence.” I took a step toward him to meet his eyes. “Let me help you.” I bit my lip because I didn't want to say those words. “I
need
to help you.”

His clear blue eyes looked into mine, gauging me. They were colder than I remembered. The past two years had changed him. Made him harder. And he wasn't that soft to begin with. But he still wasn't a fool and he always did have a soft spot for damsels in distress. Especially
this
damsel in distress.

“I'll call Reggie tomorrow morning. I have to run it by him first.”

“But you're willing to let me come?”

“As long as you can keep it together for the duration. That means no alcohol, no pills, and at the first hint of a panic attack, you walk away.”

“I can live with that.” I held out my hand, which he shook. His flesh was cool and clammy against mine. He was nervous. The handshake lingered a little longer than it should have. When I looked up, his gaze was distant, as if deep in thought. I pulled my hand away, breaking him out of his trance.

“Sorry,” he said, his pale cheeks quickly turning bright red.

“You okay?”

“I'm tired,” he said, turning his back to me.

“Yeah. It's really late. I should get going. We have a long day ahead of us.” I picked up my bag from the table and slung it on my shoulder. “I'll be waiting for you.”

“Okay,” he said with his back still to me. I was about to walk out the door when Luke called to me. “Iris?” I turned to face him. “What changed your mind?”

I thought for a moment. “I guess my humanity isn't completely dead. Don't tell anyone, okay?”

I finally got a smile. “I won't.”

“See you tomorrow.”

I stepped into the hallway and shut the door before a smile crossed my face. Just like old times. I didn't know until that moment how much I missed them.

“I am going to kick his ass.”

Two hours. I sat in my living room with a packed suitcase next to me for two hours. I was being stood up. The bastard stood me up. I was ready at seven thirty, fully packed, showered, and dressed to kill. I'd even put on my favorite suit to look the part of an agent again, a three-piece black suit with a black silk shirt under the jacket, which fell mid-thigh. I was getting pissed. I set down my knitting, picked up the phone, and dialed Luke for the fourth time. Once again, it rang and nobody picked up. I slammed it down. Patience was never my strong suit. I'd give it another fifteen minutes before I lost my cool and went to the hotel. Then when I found him, even if I had to drive to D.C., I'd kick his ass.

For the third time that morning, I checked to make sure I had everything I needed. I had a hefty supply of candy bars, lipstick, and my recorder. Ah, my recorder. I used it back before everyone had a recorder on their phones. Used it every day I was on the job. It felt weird rooting around my old boxes filled with notes and the old case files I was able to take. I found it next to a box of Hayden's things I couldn't bear to part with.

The basement always creeped me out, just four red brick walls with rusty pipes running along them. I had to go through four boxes before I found the small recorder wrapped in an old shirt I first mistook for a rag. When I unwrapped the cloth, my heart gave way. My “Virginia Is for Lovers” shirt. I thought I'd lost it.

Hayden bought it for me on our fateful third date. I was still attending the Academy at Quantico but had a three-day weekend. He met me in front of the gates in a rented convertible. We drove almost eight hours, and no matter how many times I asked, he wouldn't tell me where we were going. Not that I minded. We spent the time singing along to the radio and talking about nothing and everything. Right before the state line, we had to stop for gas. When he came back out from paying, he had that shirt with him. It was the first thing he ever gave me. Eventually he stole it from me, wearing it to the gym or to work. When I saw it that morning, my breath stopped. I held it up to my nose for a minute. It still smelled like him—coffee and that deodorant he always wore. When I finally regained my composure, I tossed the shirt back in the box, whispering, “I'm sorry, babe.” I grabbed the recorder and ran back upstairs to begin my vigil.

My security system buzzed, bringing me out of the bad thoughts. I got up to push the button to open the gate. “Finally.” I grabbed the suitcases by the door and tossed them onto the porch. I set the alarm, then shut the door before the screeching started. The car pulled up, but instead of Luke's rental, it was Carol's Corolla. I couldn't hide my disappointment as she climbed out. She was dressed for the early heat wave in a yellow sundress, with a matching headband in her curly brown hair. She looked so comfortable, my temperature in the all-black suit went up another 10 degrees. I'd planned to call her after I left to ask her to take care of Gus.

“Hey,” she called from the car with her Southern accent. “What ya doing all gussied up? You look like you're going to a funeral.” She walked around to the other side of the car to pull her son, Patrick, out of his car seat. He was an adorable kid with blond hair and chubby cheeks who spent most of his time chewing on a Batman action figure you couldn't pry out of his hand even with the Jaws of Life. Patrick was the only good thing that came out of what was apparently a train wreck of a marriage. The father, who I knew only as “that no-good son of a bitch,” had had nothing to do with them for years. Carol refused to talk about him except when he was late with his child support payments. Then I never heard the end of him. The little I knew I found out from Hayden, who was Carol's first cousin. That fact made her the only person in town I got along with. She was instrumental in getting me my job after my months of recovery. Carol introduced me to Roger, whom she worked for as an assistant, and helped get me acclimated in Grafton. She showed me around and tried to get me involved in things like book clubs and committees. I usually went only once.

“He gets bigger every time I see him,” I called to her. The jacket came off as sweat ran down my back. It had to be 90 degrees out.

Carol walked the four steps onto the porch with Patrick holding her hand. The second he reached the top, he ran over to me, wrapping his tiny arms around my leg. It was funny: all the adults I knew fled the other way when they were around me, but this kid ran
to
me. Just me. With everyone else he hid behind his mother's legs. He looked up at me with those big brown eyes and got the biggest smile on his face. I tousled his hair and smiled back.

“Don't change the subject,” she said. “Why are you wearing a suit? You must be dying out here.” She looked down at the suitcases and her mouth dropped. “Oh, God. Did someone really die?”

“No, nobody died. I just have to go up to Washington for a few days.”

“Why on earth do you have to go back there? Did something happen?”

“I'm just going to help out with something up there for a while.”

“With what?”

I sighed. I hated twenty questions. I picked up Patrick, figuring she wouldn't yell at me with him in the crossfire. Plus he smelled like graham crackers. “The Woodsman.”

Her face fell. “You're going back to the FBI?”

“No. God no. I'm being hired as a consultant. I'm just going to nose around the scenes, look at the evidence. Give them my two cents' worth. I'm not rejoining.”

“Well, good. It's the last thing in the world you should do.”

My eyes narrowed. “Why would you say that?”

“It's just…you said so yourself. That job nearly got you killed. And if you go back to chasing psychos, who's to say it won't happen again?”

“What happened to me was a fluke. It isn't something that normally happens to agents. I was just lucky.” I could feel my face getting hot. I didn't want to yell at Carol, so I took a deep breath to get control. It worked. “I'm grateful you're worried about me, but there's no reason to be. I'll be in the background. Hell, I'll be lucky to see the outside of the office. I'll probably just be looking at the personal objects of the victims, talking to people close to them, and muddling through scientific evidence. This guy won't even know I'm there. I won't be in any danger.”

“Does this have anything to do with the guy Roger saw leaving your office? Was it who I think it was?” she asked, more pissed than worried.

I looked away from Carol, unable to stand her gaze. “He asked for my help, yes. But me going is my idea, not his.”

“Why? Is it because Roger won't let you teach this summer? Do you need the money? Because if that's it, I can always lend ya—”

“It's not the money,” I said. Not completely.

“Then why the hell would you do this to yourself?”

I paused to find the right words and set Patrick down. “I don't know. I was just looking at those women, what was left of them, and I knew I had to do something. I knew I
could
do something. I felt like the old me, before…everything. I can't not go. Can you understand?”

Carol nodded slowly. “I guess. If you feel you have to do this, then you have my full support.”

I pulled her petite body into a hug. Her body felt cool against mine. She was stiff, as if unsure what to do. I don't think I'd ever hugged her before. “Thank you.”

She lifted up her arms and hugged me back. “No problem,” she chuckled uneasily.

I heard the car drive up before I saw it. Both Carol and I turned toward the driveway. Luke's green sedan parked behind Carol's car and shut off. I quickly grabbed my jacket and put it on. I hadn't been wearing the damn thing for two hours just to have the effect ruined then. I quickly smoothed my hair—the humidity had wreaked havoc on it in the short time I was outside. Luke stepped out of the car in a dark gray suit minus the jacket, with a white dress shirt on. He looked over at me, puzzled. “Why are you dressed for a funeral?”

I shot him a quick glare before picking up my suitcases. A small smile crept across Carol's face. He did look damn fine in a suit. I would forgive her, but Luke was getting the cold shoulder the entire trip. “What the hell took you so long?” I asked as I walked toward him with my suitcases. “I've been calling you for over an hour!”

He unlocked the trunk and opened it. “I've spent the past two hours convincing Reggie you'd be less trouble than you're worth. It was a hard sell.”

I noticed Luke looking behind me. “Sorry,” I said. “Special Agent Luke Hudson, this is Carol March. Carol, Luke.”

“We've met,” Luke said.

I looked at Carol for confirmation. “Hayden's funeral.”

“Oh. I didn't know.”

Of course I didn't, because I missed my own husband's funeral. I was still attached to every machine in the hospital after having surgery to repair my colon and remove my ovary. His family just couldn't wait until I got out over two weeks later. I missed saying goodbye to my husband because his family was impatient. That was just one of the many reasons I never spoke to any of them save for Carol. She'd had no hand in the decision.

“I wish I could say it was nice to see you again, but my mama always said lies make God weep,” Carol spit out, losing all her Southern charm. Luke's eyes averted to the ground, and I was shocked into silence. I'd never heard Carol say a harsh word to or about anyone except that no-good-son-of-a-bitch ex of hers. She was a bit frightening. Luke must have thought so too, because when she took a step toward him, he took one back. “If my best friend gets hurt again, I'm holding you personally responsible.” She held up a finger. “One hair and I will track you down and put you in the ground, I swear to God. You get me, FBI man?”

“I'll guard her with my life.”

A bright smile crossed Carol's face, transforming her back into the woman I knew. “Good,” she chirped. “Then y'all have a safe trip. Hope ya catch him.” She turned back to me. “You call me every day.”

“Will do.”

“We'd better get going,” Luke said. “Our plane leaves in two hours.”

“Okay.” I smiled at Carol, who smiled back. “Take care of Gus and the cats for me?”

“I'm sure Patrick and I will spoil them rotten.”

I tousled the kid's hair again. “Be good for your mom.”

I kissed Carol's cheek before climbing into the cool car. My muscles knotted up when the door slammed shut. I forced myself to take deep breaths as Luke got in. What the hell was the matter with me? I hadn't been this nervous since the first class I taught. I was as jittery as a June bug. I had wanted this. Why…? It hit me.

“Wait,” I said just as Luke was about to start the car.

“You forget something?” he asked.

“I think maybe this is a bad idea.”

Luke lowered his hand from the keys and fell back in his seat. He looked over at me, surprisingly sympathetic. “Was it the funeral remark?”

This made me smile. “No, it wasn't the funeral remark.”

“Then what? You practically begged me last night to come. What changed?”

I gazed out the window, watching Carol help Patrick into the backseat of her car. As she walked to the driver's-side door, Patrick turned around and looked out the window at me. His eyes met mine for a fleeting second. My stomach clenched. The faces of those little boys who had their mothers taken away flashed in my mind.

“Because I don't think I can do this,” I said, turning back to Luke. “I'm not the same person I was. I'm not as sharp as I was. What if I fail? What if this guy gets away? How could I face myself every day?”

He gazed at me, searching for something in my face before he chuckled. “You really don't remember, do you?”

“What?”

“Iris, we've had this conversation half a dozen times before. At the Academy, on the Staub case, even in Rosetta. Every agent has the same doubts.”

“That was then. Maybe now I'm too…damaged. I could just make things worse.”

“You seemed pretty on top of things last night. You threw some pretty good ideas out there.”

“Or I could be leading you in a completely wrong direction. When you're off looking at doctors, the law enforcement perp might be out stalking another woman.”

“Or,” Luke said, “we find this guy because of your profile.” He paused. “I've worked with a lot of agents in the past two years, and none could hold a candle to you, even on a bad day. If I didn't think you were up to this I wouldn't have fought for you. You and me, we're…” He gripped the steering wheel so hard it creaked. “You're still Iris Ballard. My partner. I knew it the second you showed up at my motel room with that same excited look in your eyes you've had every time we began a case. I trust you. Trust
me.
”

I broke away from his gaze. “You really think I can do this?”

“I know you can. And so do you.”

I bit my lower lip and closed my eyes. “Thank you. You can start the car now.” The car sprung to life, and I opened my eyes.

It was time to rejoin the land of the living.