Disarming Detective. Elizabeth Heiter

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СКАЧАТЬ She didn’t drown in that marsh. She was killed somewhere else.”

      “Okay—”

      “And she had burns on her body.”

      Ella felt her hands tense into fists. Hiding them under the table, she forced them to loosen. “What kind of burns?”

      “What were they made with? I don’t know. But she had several. On her arm, her back...” Fury pulsated in his voice. “Someone burned her on purpose.”

      Ella held back a string of curses. Burns were close enough to branding that those cases hit her hardest. She always wanted them and her boss, knowing why she’d joined the FBI six years ago, always passed them on to another agent.

      As much as she hated it, she understood that he was right. She made them too personal, and getting too close to a case meant making mistakes. Like Logan was in danger of doing right now.

      She gave him her best profiler stare, the one she’d learned from her boss—a legend in the Bureau. “I’m going to read this case file and give you my best insight. But I’m going to tell you something you already know. You’re too close to this case. You shouldn’t be on it.”

      It was hypocritical advice, given the very, very personal case file sitting in the trunk of her Bureau-issued car right now, and judging by his scowl, Logan didn’t seem any more inclined to follow it than she was.

      “I’m not handing this over to someone else, not when everyone seems to think it was a fluke. I’m not going to sit around and wait for the next body to show up before I investigate this. This was my sister’s friend and someone murdered her and tossed her in the marsh like garbage. I’m going to find this guy and make sure he pays.”

      Realization struck Ella. “You’re not supposed to be here, are you?”

      Logan let out a sound that was half laugh, half exasperation, but his face told her he was impressed. “Tell you what, profiler. Check out the file and tell me I’m wrong.” He gave her a smug look that said, “I dare you.”

      Ella nodded slowly. “Okay.” She skipped over the autopsy photos and started reading. The further she got in the file, the more she felt her mouth tug downward.

      When she looked back up at him, Logan raised his eyebrows. “Well?”

      “You’ve got good instincts, Greer.”

      Logan tapped his fingers heavily on the table. “I thought so.”

      She had just flipped the file back to the beginning when he suggested, this time sounding completely serious, “Maybe you and your friends could vacation on some Florida beaches instead.”

      “No.” The word came out more harshly than she’d intended, so she covered up her instant reaction by tilting her head and offering him an exaggerated coy smile. “Are you trying to solve a case here or get into my pants, Greer?”

      He blinked and leaned back, but just as quickly sat forward with a full-wattage version of the smile he’d been laying on her all night. “Is it too much to hope for both?”

      A short burst of laughter escaped her lips as desire zinged through her body. “Probably.” She turned back to the file and all humor and lust instantly fled.

      She lifted the page closer, squinting at one of the close-ups underneath the main autopsy photo, and her entire body suddenly felt as though it had been submerged in ice. The blood left her head so fast she actually swayed in her seat.

      From a great distance, she heard Logan saying, “Whoa. Are you okay?” and before she knew it, he was squeezed in next to her in the booth, his hand on her back like fire against the frost that had come over her. “Ella?”

      “What is this?”

      Logan studied her face with concern before looking down. “The burn on her neck?”

      “Yeah.” She thought of marshes and fishermen. And images of hooks, burned into human flesh. “Could it be a brand?”

      His forehead creased and he was staring into her eyes again, searching.

      This close, he’d be able to see too much. Fear, maybe. Pain, probably. Recognition, definitely.

      She’d seen a mark like this before, way too up close and personal. Her friend had covered it with a tattoo, but Ella would never forget how it had looked the day Maggie stumbled home to their dorm room. An angry red permanent reminder of a man the media had dubbed the Fishhook Rapist. He’d started with Maggie nearly a decade ago, then claimed a new victim every year since in a different part of the country. His last victim had been in Florida.

      Ella had joined the FBI to catch him. She’d never even come close before. But maybe—just maybe—that was about to change.

      “I don’t know,” Logan answered. “It’s possible. Why?”

      Ella released her breath, tried to regain control as she slapped the file shut. “I’m coming to Florida.”

       Chapter Two

      There was definitely something about this case Ella Cortez wasn’t telling him.

      The bustle of Dulles Airport seemed to fade into the background as Logan watched her walk toward him, carrying two cups of coffee. A Bureau blue duffel bag was slung easily over one shoulder and it bounced against her hip with every purposeful stride, swinging in a hypnotic arc. More than one man’s head swiveled as she passed.

      Logan had come directly to the airport to change his flight and book hers, while she’d gone home to pack. And apparently to change. Instead of the all-business suit she’d had on earlier, now she wore jeans and a T-shirt that highlighted appealing curves. Dark hair that had been wound into a bun earlier was now in a loose, low ponytail that trailed to midback and made his fingers itch to slide through it.

      He sat up straighter as she joined him, taking the scalding cup of coffee she offered. “Thanks.”

      “Sure.” She looked distracted as she dumped her bag on the floor, pulled out her cell phone and hit Redial. It must have gone to voice mail, because she swore and stuck the phone back in her pocket.

      “Boyfriend?” When she squinted at him, he added, “That you’re calling?”

      “No. The friends I was supposed to go on vacation with. I can’t get them.”

      Which didn’t exactly answer the subtext of his question. Not that it mattered.

      He’d gotten a lot more than he’d hoped for out of his trip, which he’d booked yesterday on a whim and a hope. He’d expected to badger someone from the FBI’s profiler unit into giving him something to take home. It was how he got to the bottom of most of his cases—his ability to push until he got what he wanted. And this time wasn’t any different. He wanted to close this case. And it didn’t matter whose toes he had to step on back home.

      He snuck a peek at Ella, who was frowning beside him as she pulled her phone out again. However much he’d like to believe it, she wasn’t here because of his persuasive charm. She was in this for her own reasons. And before СКАЧАТЬ