Pitch Black Page 18

  Alec grinned. “At least I won’t get killed in a wreck.”

  “You might wish you had.”

  “Hey! I didn’t hear you complaining when I drove your butt home last week.” She turned to Alec. “Our boy has a new live-in lady friend who needed to borrow the car.”

  “How does your husband put up with you?” Dean asked.

  She ignored him. “How is Stacey, anyway? She settling in to city life okay?”

  “Yeah. She starts her new job with the Montgomery County Sheriff’s Office next week.”

  “Gonna be a lot different from Hope Valley. But she’ll be running the place in no time.”

  The serious man actually chuckled. So the guy obviously had a soft side, if only for his cop girlfriend. Suddenly recognizing the name of the town Jackie mentioned, Alec asked, “Hope Valley? The Reaper case?”

  “Yes,” Dean replied.

  “Wait—are you talking about the sheriff who helped you bring him down?”

  “Stacey Rhodes,” he said, obviously proud. “She was sheriff at the time, but didn’t run for reelection. She was ready for a change and wanted to—”

  “Move in with your grouchy self,” Jackie said.

  “Leave him be,” said Lily, who had been quietly listening to the exchange from just inside the small, cramped break room: a glorified closet with a coffeemaker and a sink.

  Though a member of the team, Lily seemed to hover on the periphery, and not merely because she wasn’t in the hall with the rest of them. The woman appeared comfortable being slightly on the outside, not in the middle of things, as if she hadn’t totally let down her guard. Alec didn’t take it personally, having noted the separation was from everyone, not just him.

  “Don’t pay attention to either of them, Alec. We really aren’t that nosy around here.”

  “Yeah, we are,” another voice said. Kyle Mulrooney had arrived. The barrel-chested man, his slicked-down black hair unmoved by the windy weather, removed his coat and tossed it on a rack. “So nosy we’ve got a few questions for you, Lambert.”

  Alec stiffened. He had been waiting for this, wondering when they’d work their way up to asking him about the rumors. Anybody who bothered to look into the case would know he had been shot by the sixty-year-old mother of the suspect. Not a girlfriend, not a wife, not a young suspect he’d gotten tangled up with against all policies and agency rules. But few people were interested in looking into it.

  An agent had died. Alec was to blame. That was all they needed to know.

  “There’s something Dean’s been dying to ask you,” Mulrooney said, his jowly face pulled into a frown. “Uh, who’s your tailor?”

  “Bite me, buddy,” Dean said.

  Stokes snorted, and Alec felt the tension leave his body. His coworkers were going out of their way to welcome him today, while they hadn’t the previous few. It was as if they’d waited for him to prove himself and, somehow, yesterday he’d done so.

  Now they were intentionally bringing him into their world, letting him know that, even though he hadn’t been a Black CAT for long, he was one of them. And whatever they’d heard about him before he’d arrived, they were giving him a chance, as their boss had.

  At least, that was how he interpreted it.

  “Ignore them. We’re glad to have you,” Lily said, confirming he was right.

  He couldn’t name a moment in his career when he’d been more appreciative. “Thanks,” he murmured, saying more than just that simple word.

  Lily got the message. “There’s no outside garbage here; we drop it at the door.”

  “Yeah, ’cause everybody treats us like garbage, anyway,” Kyle said with a wide grin, as if not bothered by the idea whatsoever.

  Alec thought he understood. There was a certain freedom in being ignored due to Wyatt’s infamy. The ability to operate under the radar, investigating an unsub who appeared to be a serial killer the BAU had been hunting for years, for instance.

  Kyle continued. “I guess you might be good enough to become a gen-u-ine Black CAT.”

  Smiling as he realized the team didn’t seem to mind the nickname, which he’d already gotten used to himself, Alec said, “Thanks. I’ll do my best.”

  Lily stepped out of the break room, closer to the group, though still maintaining a few feet of distance. Not fully joining in, but trying. “And I hope you’re not second-guessing yourself about yesterday. Trying to engage the unsub through Mrs. Dalton’s Web site was an excellent idea, and we all wanted it to succeed.”

  Stokes jumped in. “There’s still a chance. I checked the site this morning; comments are still coming in. Not from Darwin, but he could be watching.”

  “If Darwin is the Professor, he’s definitely watching,” Alec murmured, feeling sure of it.

  He didn’t mention that he had also checked the Web site every hour throughout the night. And every time he checked, he found himself wishing he could have kept Sam out of this nightmare.

  “He’s the Professor,” Jackie said, sounding certain. The other three agents nodded, the conclusion a unanimous one among the team. “We all know it.”

  “I agree,” Alec said, wondering if they heard his lack of happiness about that.

  He hated to admit it, knowing they needed the lead, but he wouldn’t be completely disappointed if the man who had reached out to Sam was not who they were after. She’d been through so much already. Hearing what her bastard ex had put her through had broken his heart a little. That she had been drawn out only because a psychopath had zoned in on her as some kind of ally seemed not only unfortunate but damned unfair.

  She could already be out of it.

  If only he could believe that. Though as of an hour ago their unsub had not returned to Sam’s Web site, Alec knew it could still happen. The Professor was out there, an angry, murderous bull, and Sam was holding the red cape that could enrage him.

  He would worry about any civilian in this situation; it was his job. But last night, Alec had realized he no longer had the impartiality of his job to hide behind when it came to Sam. Already, this was deeper. This was personal.

  He let himself repeat it, if only in his head: His feelings toward Sam Dalton were personal. It had taken a lot to say good night and leave her in the doorway last night, when neither of them wanted him to go. He’d been tempted by a lot more than the friendly poker game she’d suggested. Losing himself in the softness of her mouth, which he suspected hadn’t been offered to any man since her prick of a husband had tossed her away, it had taken serious willpower to walk away after just one kiss. But a second helping would have led to only one place: bed.

  Maybe when this is over . . .

  Yeah. Maybe then. What might happen, he couldn’t say. Maybe it was only attraction, as he’d told himself at first, and his liking and admiration for her wouldn’t come into play.

  But he doubted it.

  “You think he’s just waiting it out, wanting to get more of her blog visitors riled up, screaming for his blood, before he comes back and ‘instructs’ everyone?” Lily asked, making the very point Alec had been considering.

  “Yes, I do. I think he’s intentionally letting the debate rage on, liking the attention and the drama he started. When it dies down . . .”

  “He’ll stir the pot again,” Kyle said. “Like a sous chef straight outta hell’s kitchen.”

  Right. And when and if Darwin stirred the pot, they’d be watching. Alec had only one fear—that Sam would stir it first.

  He couldn’t think about that. He needed to focus on the case, stop the Professor before he hurt anybody else. Before he dragged Sam deeper into his nightmare. That included finding some other way to talk to Jimmy Flynt.

  “There is one other possibility about why Darwin didn’t come back last night.” Lily’s shoulders were slumped, looking as though they carried the weight of the world. She didn’t have to continue. They all knew what the other possibility was.

  The Professor might have been out killing someo
ne.

  “What’s going on? Did I miss a staff meeting?” Brandon Cole entered the office. Pink shirt today, loud tie. Alec felt pretty sure he’d seen the look on a billboard or on the cover of GQ.

  “Perfect timing; we’re about to go in,” said Jackie.

  Alec glanced at his watch. Seven twenty-five. Tossing his briefcase onto his desk, he joined the others in the conference room. Wyatt was waiting for them, poring over some paperwork strewn out on the table. Glancing at one file, Alec realized these were copies of the evidence report from Ryan’s and Jason’s murders.

  “Anything of use?” he asked.

  “The forensics came back as expected. Not a single usable fingerprint on the car, other than those belonging to the boys or Jason’s family members. The same can be said for the duct tape, the most popular brand on the market. There was a black fiber trapped in the weave of it, however. It might have come from a knit glove.”

  And how many of those could there be in the northern hemisphere?

  “The metal folding chair was a brand distributed through a couple of big-box retailers all over the country.”

  The hits just kept coming.

  “So what’s the deal with the phone?” Taggert asked.

  Wyatt pushed the forensic report back into the folder. “Someone used it for more than three minutes last night. Ryan Smith’s father has been checking his son’s account every night, and he noticed a call took place around nine p.m. The phone company has the account flagged, and they would have noticed it this morning. . . . Thanks to Mr. Smith, we knew twelve hours in advance.”

  Smart man. Or simply a grieving father who felt powerless and wanted to do something to help solve his son’s murder.

  “The cell phone provider should be calling at any time with the information on the tower, and the approximate location of the caller.”

  Meaning, if the Professor had used the phone himself, they would know where he had been less than half a day ago. Where he had really been, not just what Internet sites he had cruised. Alec forced himself not to even think of that issue, not wanting his head clouded today by his concern for Sam.

  As if Wyatt had willed it to happen, the office phone rang. The dour receptionist, whose name Alec couldn’t even remember, hadn’t arrived yet, so the boss answered the call himself from the phone in here. They all quieted when he started speaking, but every person actually fell silent as soon as they realized he was not talking to the cellular provider.

  “Yes, Detective, we are assisting the Wilmington police.”

  Something about the boys.

  It was impossible to glean anything from merely the words Wyatt uttered on his side of the conversation. It was not, however, difficult to spot the way their boss shook his head and covered his eyes at some bit of particularly bad news. “Yes, of course.” He reached for a pen and paper, jotting something down, then continued. “Morning traffic will tangle us up a bit, but we should be able to get there by nine or shortly thereafter. You will still be working the scene?”

  Oh, damn. Another crime scene?

  Every other person in the room realized the same thing. Jackie groaned in disgust. Lily’s pale face lost what little color it had. Kyle and Dean both muttered expletives, and Brandon flipped open his laptop, ready to dive in with whatever information Wyatt gave them.

  Their leader hung up, rising and stuffing the forensics pages back into their files. “It appears we don’t have to wait for the phone company. Ryan Smith’s cell phone was discovered at a crime scene. Lily and Brandon, please remain here to provide us with off-site support, as well as monitoring Mrs. Dalton’s Web site.”

  “And the rest of us?” Jackie asked.

  “We’re going to Baltimore. A woman’s body was found this morning.”

  Alec jerked to his feet. “Not Sam . . .”

  Wyatt immediately shook his head. “No, no. Of course not.”

  Thank you, God. His conscience was already heavy over what had happened to Ferguson. One death—another agent’s—was all the guilt he could carry. A civilian’s could break him.

  Samantha’s? Well, that could crush him for good.

  No one commented on Alec’s response, probably because they’d all seen him sit in this room with her for nine or ten hours yesterday. They knew he felt responsible for his plan not working, and would feel even more responsible if Sam was hurt because of it. They couldn’t know he had gotten personally interested in the woman, though Jackie did eye him speculatively.

  He didn’t care. Those few brief seconds thinking something had happened to Sam had thrust the reality of his feelings toward her home with the power of a blade. There was no maybe about it. When this case was over, he would be knocking on her door for that shot of tequila, that poker game. That kiss. And whatever came after it.

  “Let’s go,” Wyatt said.

  Everyone rose quickly. Grabbing coats and keys, they hurried out, Blackstone shooting details over his shoulder. “Baltimore police were called by a construction foreman before dawn. A woman’s naked body was spotted on the grounds of a waterfront site. She was a thirty-eight-year-old operator, unmarried, living with a female roommate in the city. Judging by the body temperature, it appears she’s been there all night.”

  Alec didn’t have to think long before he caught the vision. “Blindfolded too, right? Then left alone to stagger around helpless and fall to her death.”

  The others simply stared. They hadn’t been after the Professor as long as Alec had. God willing, they would never know him as intimately as he did.

  “Very likely,” Blackstone said. Inside the elevator, he added, “They found her clothes and ID on the top level of the building, along with a cell phone that they quickly discovered had belonged to a murder victim. The Wilmington police directed them to us.”

  “Ryan Smith’s,” Alec confirmed.

  Wyatt nodded.

  “So I guess we know why Darwin wasn’t hanging around online last night,” Jackie said, shaking her head in disgust.

  “Yeah,” Kyle said, ever the blunt one. “He was busy tossing an operator off a building.”

  But he probably wasn’t busy now. In fact, the unsub was likely relaxed, sated for the time being. Perhaps he had some time on his hands. Maybe even enough to do a little Web surfing.

  Wyatt seemed to read his mind, not the first time his boss had exhibited some pretty amazing intuition. “Brandon and Lily will notify us the moment he shows up on her site.”

  Alec eyed the other man warily, wondering if his reaction in the conference room had revealed more than he’d intended to about his relationship with their witness. “I know,” he said, wanting to place a quick call to Sam to give her a heads-up that Darwin might be back online this morning.

  But it would have to be from the road. They were all anxious to get to the crime scene before too many people had gone through it. Alec needed to look at every inch if he wanted to try to imagine what the Professor had been thinking and feeling.

  Thinking, yes. Feeling? The Professor? Probably not so much. He suspected the unsub didn’t have feelings, that he was completely detached from what he was doing. One step removed from the human race, as if they were his subjects, or his guinea pigs, free to be played with and disposed of at will.

  He only wished they had stopped him before he’d had a chance to play his deadly game with the poor woman lying cold and dead on the ground in Baltimore.

  Considering Sam had spent the last couple of days wrapped up in a murder investigation, mourning the loss of a nice kid, and wondering whether she had attracted the attention of a serial killer, she probably shouldn’t have been so surprised to forget an important date. In most cases, such a lapse in memory could probably be expected.

  Except, of course, if the date was her own birthday.

  It wasn’t today. The official anniversary would occur tomorrow. However, this was the day her mother had decided to celebrate. Why? Because the older woman had a Saturday-night date and needed all
of tomorrow to prepare. Who said mothers weren’t sentimental?

  If it’s with someone she met online, I’m going to lock her up and throw away the key.

  “So you will be there for lunch?” the older woman asked. “Eleven forty-five a.m. at Raphael’s, that lovely café I like on Charles Street?”

  She shouldn’t have answered the phone this morning when it startled her awake a few minutes ago. Actually, she wished she hadn’t turned the ringer back on last night. She had thought, however implausibly, that Alec might decide to call her and fill her in on what that mysterious phone call from his boss had been about. But no, the only call had been this reminder from her mother. Which effectively removed any chance of Sam using the legitimate excuse that she had forgotten about today’s lunch.

  “Samantha?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “You won’t forget? I know how you are when you get busy doing that computer thing.”

  That computer thing. Oh, her livelihood?

  “I said I’ll be there,” she insisted. Then, knowing the reaction she would get, added, “I asked Tricia to join us.”

  Tricia hadn’t committed to the invitation, mainly because she and Sam’s mother had their own mutual non-admiration society. But considering how contrite Tricia had sounded when e-mailing and calling to apologize for the answering machine snafu, she’d probably show up.

  Not that Sam had responded to her pleas for information about who had been there to hear the amplified conversation. Tricia had naturally assumed it was a man, but Sam wasn’t ready to go there yet, not even with her best friend.

  “She’s such a wild girl, Samantha.” Her mother’s disapproval came through the phone loud and clear.

  “That wild girl has been my best friend for two decades.”

  “Well, it is your birthday. I suppose you should decide who you want to spend it with.”

  Magnanimous. “She is so looking forward to seeing you, too.”

  Her mother harrumphed. “There’s no need for sarcasm.”

  Sarcasm had been her go-to defense for a year now, but she usually didn’t target it at her normally easy-to-get-along-with mother, who was only a pain in the ass in the way that all mothers were a pain in the ass. And because she was a little lacking in the commonsense department. “Sorry.”