Jane Doe's Return (2 page)

“Shauna Morgan. You know her?” Scott asked, still leaning against the wooden doorframe.

Travis wondered if his ever wore anything other than a dark blue suit and a standard gray tie that damn near matched his eyes. “Can’t say that I do.” He rolled the name around in his brain, trying to place it but got nothing. “Why?”

“She’s from the area and a rape victim advocate, so I figured you might know her.”

“Nope. Can’t say I’ve ever heard of her.” Travis scooped up the folder and thumbed through the papers until he came across his new partner’s photo. For a brief moment, he held his breath. Standard FBI identification photographs were generally worse than mug shots, but his new partner, with her soft looking brown hair and sparking blue eyes was more than a looker.

“Doesn’t matter. She’s been assigned to this office because she fits the same profile as you.”

“And what pray tell is that?” Travis asked.

“She’s being tracked for the National Violent Crimes Unit.”

“Oh great. So she’ll get the promotion before I do.”

Scott let out a small chuckle. The man was too easily amused. “You are such a pessimist. If you two work together all nice, they’ll transfer you as partners. It’s preferred that way, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.” Travis was having a hard time buying the line of bullshit his boss was dishing out. Besides, he wasn’t a pessimist. If that were the case, he would have given up on finding his sister’s killer years ago. Cynical, maybe. Pessimist, certainly not.

“You need to pick up your new partner at the airport this afternoon at five. Officially, she’s on the job the moment you lay eyes on her. I expect you to train her better than your mentor trained you.” Scott pointed to the ceiling with a disapproving look. “Which means those have to go.”

Travis glanced up at the constant reminders of his biggest failure. He’d been told before to toss the pictures, but never listened.

“Now. I can’t have you train a new agent with closed cases, and cases the FBI isn’t even involved in, on your ceiling. If you don’t take them down, I will do it for you.”

“Fine.” Travis shrugged. One of these days someone would have to listen to him.

“And keep Agent Morgan out of your own little investigation. You’ll never get that promotion if I have to write you up.”

Travis nodded. Scott had been somewhat understanding over the years, but Travis knew he’d been skating on thin ice when it came to how much he used his job to get information for himself.

“Agent Morgan’s your shadow. You don’t go to the bathroom without her.”

Travis gave a grunt of acceptance, climbing on top of his desk. He figured Scott would stick around until he pulled the pictures down.

Travis jumped down and Scott strode out of the office. Travis put the pictures of twelve teenage victims, all raped and murdered but one, into a folder. Holding Jane Doe’s picture in his hand, he stared at her bruised face. He stroked the picture and put it into a file, then shoved it in his top drawer. Time to meet his new partner.

****

Shauna Morgan gasped, then gripped the armrests, grateful no one sat in the seat next to her. The plane shook as the ground appeared to rise up from nowhere and greet the spinning wheels. The ones she prayed had been deployed, released, or whatever.

She hated flying, but had to look out the window. It seemed everyone who feared flying had to fixate their stare on the approaching ground. Like watching yourself plummet to your death would somehow make your trip better.

The plane bounced on the pavement, came to a roaring halt, and jerked forward toward the gate. She tried to swallow, but the lump in her throat wouldn’t allow her muscles to work properly. Her heart beat so fast she could no longer feel one pulse after the other. It had been years since she had been anywhere near her hometown. Although Saratoga Springs was about forty minutes north, Albany was close enough.

And Albany was where it all began.

She shook her hands, trying to get rid of her nerves before adjusting her brown hair. She wondered if she should have pulled it into a ponytail. Making a good first impression was more than important. Working at the Albany Field Office had been a dream come true, but to be working with Travis had been almost too much to handle all at once. She’d spent the majority of her adult life making sure she dealt with her past so she could use it to make sure the man who changed her life forever would pay. And pay big.

Travis would know some of what Shauna had suffered since the same man who had raped Shauna and almost stole her very essence had murdered his sister. Lucky for her, she’d been born a fighter and took advantage of every free and confidential counseling session she could find within the system of public and private education. It had taken every ounce of courage she could muster to push past all the pain and despair, but somehow, she managed to come out on top. She planned on staying there.

She squeezed her blue eyes shut tight. Her therapist once told her that her eyes gave away every thought. It was game on now and she had to make sure her past didn’t bite her in the ass. There was always the chance Travis believed the police had captured, and the law had convicted, the right man, but Shauna didn’t believe Matt Williams had killed Marie Brown. Shauna may not have been able to identify her attacker’s face, but she did remember his voice. She’d never forget that voice. It still echoed in her ears.

The plane bucked to a stop and Shauna opened her eyes. She pushed her hair back in hopes it would fall over the front of her shoulders again. She didn’t wear much makeup, so she didn’t bother checking it. She knew she looked put together, but wouldn’t stand out, which was exactly what she wanted. No attention. Just another woman in a sea of people moving from one place to the next.

Lights flickered and the other passengers scurried to their feet. She stood, grabbed her purse and overnight bag, and headed down the tight path toward the door. The flight attendant smiled politely and Shauna couldn’t help but wonder why anyone in their right mind would fly for the fun of it.

She squared her shoulders and took in a deep breath. Her new boss had called stating Agent Brown would pick her up, but she wasn’t ready to face him. She needed to figure out a way to get Travis to talk about his sister without giving away her own secret. If anyone knew who she was, she’d be transferred quicker than a bullet ripping through a bull’s-eye hole at the range.

Or worse. She’d be thrown out of the FBI before she had a chance to catch the man who put her in this line of work to begin with. She’d been thrilled the day she heard about the impending trial of Matt Williams, suspected of killing at least five girls, but when she heard his voice on the news, she knew her nightmare hadn’t ended. Worse, future victims were out there, unaware of their fate. From that moment, she’d made the decision to do whatever was necessary to stop living in fear and use what happened to her, and the energy it created, for a greater purpose. She had set out to help others, but soon realized it would be her calling to find Travis, and then find her attacker.

During her education and training in the FBI, she focused on victims of violent crimes and their attackers. She knew all too well what these victims had suffered, but she also knew with a little help, they could move past it and have a fulfilling life, if they chose. Her goal was to work at the national level dealing with tracking down violent offenders and helping their victims. The Albany office was a stepping-stone to her ultimate goal, so she was truly grateful for the assignment. It meant her superiors trusted her abilities since Travis was on the same track.

She glanced one last time at his picture. He wore his jet-black hair a little longer than most of the FBI agents she knew. And the way he styled it…well, he overdid it a bit. Kind of like all those pretty boy pop singers that graced the pages of magazines. His deep blue eyes, even in a picture, touched her soul, but she could still see the pain looming behind the brilliant blue pools.

She scanned the airport terminal, trying to ignore the smell of bad feet. Why did all airports smell like the world walked around without socks on? At first glance, she didn’t see Agent Brown, but a second look around and…there he was.

He leaned against the wall with a newspaper in his hands. His legs were crossed at the ankles and his eyes appeared to shift as if he were reading the paper. It seemed Special Agent Brown was trying to blend in, almost hide from her. Had she not seen his picture, she would have walked right by him.

“Agent Brown?” she asked, lifting her chin. By no means was she short, but she had to tilt her head to look him in the eye.

“You must be Agent Morgan.” He folded the paper and then placed it on top of the trash receptacle next to him.

“Please, call me Shauna.” She held out her hand and fought the urge to look him over. Attractive men were a dime a dozen, besides, she had a job to do.

“The name’s Travis.” He took her hand in a firm grip. She liked that, but she was unnerved by the way her hand felt in his. She looked down just as he yanked his hand away. “It’s a pleasure. Luggage?” He pointed toward the sign that read Baggage Claim.

She fell in line with his long stride. Damn, his legs were longer than hers, and she had an inseam that most fancy designers didn’t know existed.

“Where’d we put you up?”

“I’ve got it here, somewhere.” She dug into her purse. “It’s on Wolfe Road, I think,” she said, trying to keep up. “Some kind of residence inn or something.”

He chuckled. “They put me there, too, but it only lasted a few nights. Not the best place. Basically, it’s a glorified hotel. Have you started to look for a more permanent place to live?” He leaned against a pole in the middle of the baggage claim area and made eye contact.

She wondered if she hadn’t known about his sister if she would be able to read the sorrow seeping from his intense stare. “I grew up in Saratoga, so I know Albany pretty well.”

He lifted a brow and the right corner of his mouth tipped in a half smile.

She tried not to smile back, but she liked his

personality—the strong quiet type. Not overly confident, but charismatic, and somewhat sensitive. Or at least that was what she sensed. “I don’t like complex living, so I’m looking for a duplex or something,” she added for lack of anything better. She eyed her suitcases coming down the conveyer belt and reached for them.

He snatched the first one from her, and subsequently, the other two.

“Thanks,” she said, hoping she hadn’t pegged him wrong. He didn’t seem like the typical arrogant type, but then again, most agents were a little bit on the self-centered side.

“Not a problem.” He smiled over his shoulder and continued out the doors toward what appeared to be his illegally parked truck. With ease, he raised her suitcases and slid them across the tailgate, then opened the door for her. After tucking her into the passenger seat, he leapt around the front and slipped into the driver’s side, then handed her a file.

“What’s this?”

“A rape case I need another set of eyes on. Hungry?”

“Not if we’re going to be discussing rape while we’re eating.” She placed the file in her lap, resisting the urge to dive right into whatever case the man was working on. She took a deep breath and reminded herself of how her professors would constantly harp on her to slow down and stop trying to figure everything out in the first pass. That patience and attention to detail were the key to knowledge.

Even her therapists had cautioned her to stop trying to fix or do everything in one day or in one pass. Healing would take time and even those who were committed to recovery and living with whatever it was that hurt them, needed to take their time in coping with the past, present, and even the future.

“Well, we might be discussing a lot of ugly stuff while we’re eating. Does that bother you?”

“No. I’ve been told I’m too focused. Too much the job. In need to learn how to separate my career from my life.”

He laughed. “Me, too. Do you like pizza?” He glanced at her and then pulled off the road. “Capri’s has the best pizza in town.”

“Pizza sounds good to me.” She went to open the door, but he jumped out, and in two strides, beat her to it. “Thank you, but I’m completely capable of opening my own door.” She was going to have to do something about his apparent need to take care of her as if she were incapable.

“I’m sure you are.” He opened the door into the restaurant for her, too.

She smiled politely, but she wanted him to treat her like an equal. Seen for her mind, not her looks.

He smiled and waved to at least a half dozen people. It seemed he knew just about everyone in the restaurant. That made her uneasy. For years, she had avoided this area, and with good reason. Now, she simply wanted to blend in. She didn’t think coming back would be so hard. However, knowing her attacker could be out there, waiting for her return, sent a shiver up her spine.

She glanced around the small, but quaint, bar and grill. Booths lined the right side and tables were set down the middle. The left side housed the bar. She noted everyone in the place, who they were with, and what they were wearing. Even if her attacker was here, she wouldn’t recognize him. He had drugged her and she never got a good look at his face.