Serial Games (Virginia Justice Book One) (4 page)

“Absolutely, we’re in agreement. I’ll be heading down tonight and I’m not sure—” he turned his eyes on her, “when she’ll follow but I’m sure it will be soon.” Maggie nodded her head to assure him. “Okay, okay, so he’ll contact me? Great, thanks.”

Maggie bit her lip and raised her brows in question.

“I’ll be heading down to Culpeper tonight. My supervisor will have the local sheriff’s department contact me, and I’ll set up a base of operations. I’ll give an initial briefing to law enforcement about how the Marshal Service will be conducting the searches and who our suspect is. If you want to fill them in on anything important when you arrive, we can hold another conference.”

“I hope to follow tomorrow. Of course, that’ll depend on how quickly we can get some sort of workup on Burrows completed. Plus, we’ll need to contact all the potential victims.”

Brandon’s brows knitted. “How many do you think they’ll be?”

Maggie groaned. “Anywhere from half a dozen to a dozen or more. Although the county is not terribly populated, the last time we compiled a list of targets, the number was significant. Not to mention they are spread across the rural areas.”

“That could be a problem.”

“It would be easier if they were all in Culpeper, but if not, that may dictate where Burrows will travel if he picks up where he left off. If that’s the case, the one who got away, Sally Mayes, would most likely be his first target. She would be the most tempting.”

Brandon raked a hand through his thick hair. The thought of her own fingers kneading his locks shocked her. She took a deep, calming breath but a spicy musk scent assailed another sense. She breathed in again. A peek at his side profile offered a firm jaw dusted with the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow.

“Just get me what you can and as narrow as you can. We’ll have more success finding the needle if the haystack is small.”

Easier said than done. More than one issue presented itself. Cross-checking the women’s addresses with the post office, and then verifying any new addresses: each step impeded the speed of the investigation and consumed necessary resources. Would Burrows have had access to that information while he was incarcerated? Sally Mayes still claimed residency in Culpeper. Maggie knew of no other stop for Burrows to make first.

Brandon pulled up at the front entrance to her building. “Do me a favor, would you?” His gaze bore into hers.

Maggie held her breath. Did he require anything special for the case? As she stared into his gray eyes, she noticed specks of green. She blinked to break the spell. “Of course.”

“Give me a call when you’re a few miles out. If there are any changes to the plan, I don’t want you to come all the way into town. Especially if I’m located elsewhere.” His eyes twinkled. “I’ll probably catch him tonight and save you a trip.”

Maggie relaxed, inwardly amused at his cockiness.
You don’t know Burrows
. “Sounds reasonable. I’ll do that.” She opened the door and hopped out.

“Great, then I’ll see you tomorrow…maybe.”

“Tomorrow…definitely.” Maggie caught a glimpse of his smirk as she closed the door and hurried up the front steps to her building, eager to pore over the case documents she knew all too well.

Brandon’s visit had occurred hours ago, but Maggie and her team continued to work diligently. Every psychiatric profile, every potential victim’s photograph, and every crazy statement Burrows made during his capture received the same treatment as they did a few years ago. Everything remained important to the case unless proved otherwise, considering his current intentions remained obfuscated. Maggie refused to consent to the possibility her team knew less about Burrows’s mind now than they did when first introduced to the case, although her restlessness continued to mount.

“All of these concerns are noteworthy, but we have to focus on the most likely victim.” Maggie rubbed the skin between her eyes, and then dragged a hand through her hair, which forced her fingers to lacerate the knot at the end of her twisted curl. “If we can’t decide, then we need to agree on where Burrows is headed — and I say Culpeper.”

The agents in the room remained silent and waited for her instructions. Maggie stared at Burrows’s photograph and basic biographical information split between two television screens. At trial, he maintained the same clean-cut shave, his dark brown hair well-trimmed. She hadn’t seen a photograph of him in a long time. His dark eyes gloomed wide, devoid of emotion. A paralyzing chill traveled slowly up her spine. She remembered how, before his capture, she’d stare at his picture for hours and will herself a new lead for the case. His face used to invade her dreams and it conjured nightmares: nightmares she hadn’t had in a long time.

Maggie massaged the tense muscles in the back of her neck. In her dreams, his cold hands wrapped themselves around this very part of her body. Knives had flashed in front of her face and forced her to stay awake for hours. His laugh had filled her ears. His voice still nipped at her core. It was all a game to him. She beat him once before, but in her dreams he won. In her dreams, she was the prey.

Many sleepless nights were spent in prayer until her restlessness finally died and she could sleep without seeing Burrows’s face. Dreams of a faceless presence replaced her nightmares. Her mother would say she ran from the stress of being the best, of beating her sister, but Maggie knew different. She ran because she was the baby of the family, and had something to prove.

Maggie placed her hands on her hips. She set her jaw and rotated swiftly, eyeing her team. “He’ll return to Culpeper. His mother’s body is there.”

“How can you be sure?” Doug asked. “It has never been recovered.”

Burrows didn’t offer a public viewing or funeral at the time of his mother’s passing. The last time she was in Culpeper, Maggie spoke to the local funeral service agency with access to Maxine’s body. They reported an unauthorized removal of her body from their facility. When questioned about his mother’s remains, Burrows only wistfully smiled. This reaction didn’t surprise Maggie. Although she lacked the proof, everyone believed Maxine’s son relocated her body.

“Neither have the bodies of his other victims, but given what we know,” Maggie leaned over the table and shifted through a few papers, “Burrows was not known to travel out of Culpeper for longer than a day or two, and only to photograph scenery in neighboring counties.”

“So, we are in agreement? He plans on returning to his hometown?” a female agent at the table asked.

Maggie glanced at her, sure of the conclusion but unable to shake the lingering doubt. “This is profiling, after all. Half of what we know is assumed until we find hard evidence.” Maggie blew out a breath. “Okay, next. His intended target or targets.”

Everyone grappled at papers on the table and uncovered the photographs of prior identified targets. Maggie clicked a button on the remote and a picture of the first potential victim filled the screen. They needed to produce a more concise list of victims Burrows would likely target before the night ended. Maggie glanced at a wall clock: 11:30 p.m.

Her phone buzzed. “Agent Weston.” She moved a stack of manila envelopes around.

“Agent Weston, it’s Brandon.”

Maggie didn’t know why but his smooth voice filled her with a sense of warmth. She strained to keep from outwardly expressing a response. Any relationship with Marshal Worth beyond a professional acquaintance was out of the question. She’d made a decision a long time ago she would be married to her work. At least here she could somewhat control her life. And now, she was just too busy grappling with the Burrows case to accommodate anything new and unexpected, especially if it came in the form of a well-built and dangerously handsome man.

After she’d graduated from college and completed a successful internship with the FBI, the agency cleared her for employment and it had been work, work, work, ever since. Maggie threw herself into her job, logging a significant number of hours that won her a promotion into the profiling unit. Once settled into the Burrows case, Maggie felt confirmed in her choice of profession. Too bad her family couldn’t understand her lack of desperation for a man. They wanted her to model her sister — career lawyer, yet married with children: the ultimate stage of happiness. Maggie planned her life around the one thing she believed could bring her just as much joy — at least for now.

So why was the faintest sense of longing stirring within her?

“Marshal, hi. Any updates?” She kept her voice professional.

“We got an unconfirmed sighting of Burrows at a gas station south on Route 29.”

“Route 29…”

“Still waiting on exactly which gas station he was in, but it was a sheer miracle we were even called.”

Maggie mouthed to everyone about a Burrows sighting. “Really?”

“It just hit the airwaves about Burrows and the other missing prisoners. I’ve picked up two, and another team was able to nab a third.”

“And that leaves Burrows.” Maggie didn’t admit she couldn’t care less about the other criminals as long as Burrows was locked up. Not all violators of the law possessed the ability to coolly snuff out a life with their own hands.

“Anyway, the witness at the gas station had followed the trial and immediately pegged him.”

Maggie heard a voice in the background, followed by an answer from Brandon. “Are you busy?” Maggie asked hesitantly.

“I’m actually walking into the hotel as we speak. You never told me how charming this place is. I drove past a Civil War reenactment, and was tempted to stop and watch.”

Maggie smiled. “Too bad. The last time I was there I didn’t get a chance to enjoy much of the town either.”

Brandon let out a groan. “Tell me about it. Work has us visiting so many places but we really don’t get to see them. Anything new on your end?”

Maggie bit her lip, unsure which news to share first. Her gut told her Burrows would continue to Culpeper and nowhere else. Identifying Burrows’s next victim, or if there would even be one, stumped Maggie. She decided to go with the former.

“Well, we’re confident that Culpeper, or somewhere in the surrounding vicinity, will be his final destination.”

“Great. As you predicted. What else?”

Maggie cringed. Old facts and notes dictated her assessment of the current situation. Hopefully, her team’s predications would be enough to avoid future harm to the residents of Culpeper. “Based on our information from the last investigation, my team has compiled a list of probable victims.”

“What information is that?”

“Their physical similarities to his mother. I can explain all that later. It’s urgent the local police verify whether or not these women are still in Culpeper. If they aren’t, we need to know their exact whereabouts.”

“Agreed.” Brandon paused slightly. “How long is that list?”

“About a half a dozen. If you could give me a fax number, I’ll shoot you a copy. We’ll get the list to the sheriff’s department so they can coordinate with local police. Perhaps between the two departments, we can quickly alert the women.”

“Any chance he’ll attack a man?”

Maggie paused for a moment to consider. Who helped Burrows escape US Marshal custody? An unknown third party? Would that man be a liability? Would Burrows kill him? As far as anyone knew, Burrows only targeted women. The law enforcement community widely accepted the position that serial killers with a long history of violence toward a particular group didn’t suddenly change their target. If anything, their victims were a complete obsession to them, their only purpose for living.

“If there is, it’s slim to none. I would focus my efforts on protecting the women on the list.”

“You got it.” She heard his voice devoid of uncertainty. Her confidence increased a notch. “See you when you get here.”

Maggie placed the phone down on the table and looked around the room. Her co-workers were engaged in multiple discussions about the ifs, ands, and buts.
Oh, God, please let us catch this man one last time
…

****

Brandon texted Maggie the hotel facsimile number and shoved the phone into his back pocket. He leaned over the table and squinted at the map before him.

“Do you realize you were grinning a moment ago?”

“What?” Brandon raised his eyes to his longtime friend and fellow marshal, Bernard Erin.

Somewhat of a mentor to Brandon, he met Bernie, years ago, at a church they both attended. Five years ago, when Brandon needed a sudden change in his life, Bernie suggested the Fugitive Recovery Team instead of working court detail, of which Bernie had some fifteen years in. After Brandon earned the right to have his own team, he requested Bernie to join him.

Stocky, close to fifty with silver streaks in his hair, Bernie came around the table and slapped him on the shoulder. “You were grinning.”

“What are you talking about?” He shrugged his friend’s hand away. Brandon refocused his eyes on the map. He knew exactly what Bernie meant. When Bernie didn’t answer, Brandon glanced up.

Bernie’s eyes were full of amusement; his lips fought a grin. “This Agent Weston must be a real looker.”

Brandon’s eyes narrowed. Bernie’s habit of pointing out the obvious would make the coming days long and tiresome, especially if Brandon couldn’t keep his face from reacting to Maggie.

“You were just talking to her, right?” he asked a bit too innocently, with an exaggerated drawl.

“Yeah, so?” Brandon let out a short breath of frustration and forced his gaze to the map. He needed to keep his cool, especially around Bernie, who could sniff out the deepest secrets. Bernie didn’t often mention women to Brandon, knowing the rule, and they hadn’t had an occasion to argue about it in quite some time. Brandon wished someone would rush over with a phone call about something important — or not, right now it didn’t matter — just anything to halt the course of the discussion. He heard Bernie’s soft chuckle. Brandon clenched his fist.

“I haven’t seen your face this lit up since Emily,” Bernie said half hopeful, half worried.