Scene of the Crime: Baton Rouge. Carla Cassidy
Чтение книги онлайн.
Читать онлайн книгу Scene of the Crime: Baton Rouge - Carla Cassidy страница 4
Название: Scene of the Crime: Baton Rouge
Автор: Carla Cassidy
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Зарубежные детективы
isbn:
isbn:
Georgina’s stomach clenched as she thought of seven people, including a little girl, yelling for help or shrieking with pain, from a place where nobody could hear them. Her determination to hunt and find, to capture and end this case, filled every cell in her body.
It was a familiar, welcome emotion, one where she dwelled most of the time. Work was her life...despite the dangers of being an FBI agent, it felt safer to her than personal relationships or friendships. She knew her failings and she did neither of those well.
“I want Nicholas and Frank to work on finding some sort of connection between all these missing people, besides the obvious that four of them were FBI agents,” Alexander continued.
“Isn’t that enough of a connection?” Frank asked as he raked a hand through his thinning gray hair.
“I don’t think so. If that was the case, why would our perp go all the way to Mystic Lake? Why take somebody from Bachelor Moon? If all he wanted was random FBI agents, then he could have taken his pick from people who work right here. There has to be more of a connection. It feels to me like these people were specifically targeted, and we need to find out why.”
“We’ll get on it,” Nicholas replied with a firm nod of his head.
Alexander looked at the last two male agents in the room. Terry Connors and Matt Campbell, both seasoned agents who were known for their attention to detail.
“I want you two to go over all the information we have from both the Bachelor Moon and the Mystic Lake disappearances and maybe your fresh eyes can see some detail, something that so far has been missed. You can travel to Bachelor Moon, but at this point, will interact with Mystic Lake authorities by phone or whatever. As we go along, if you need to travel there, we’ll make arrangements.”
Georgina tensed as she realized she was the only person in the room who hadn’t been handed a specific assignment. Alexander’s blue gaze met hers.
“Georgina, you’ll be working with me, and we’re going to start at Jackson Revannaugh’s apartment and continue the investigation into his and Marjorie’s disappearance.”
She made sure her face revealed no emotion other than compliance, although she’d rather work with anyone on the team other than Alexander.
In the past two years they had managed to have very little interaction with each other and that had suited her just fine. Apparently he intended the two of them to work as partners within the task force.
I can do this, she told herself. She could remain professional and not tap into any memories that belonged to the two of them alone, memories that served only to remind her of what a pathetic life partner she had been.
There would always be a piece of her heart that would carry the Alexander brand, but it had nearly been buried now, and there was no digging it up, not that she thought he might want to.
All she wanted to do was find the bad guy and rescue the people who needed them. If working closely with Alexander helped her achieve that goal, then she was more than prepared for the challenge.
It was nearly four o’clock when Georgina got into the passenger side of Alexander’s company car. She buckled in as he slid behind the steering wheel, his energy a fierce entity that instantly filled the interior of the car.
He’d pulled on a lightweight black suit jacket that hid his shoulder holster and gun, but he still was a commanding presence without the show of firepower. She preferred a belt holster that she’d pulled on before they left.
“How have you been? I haven’t seen you around for a couple of weeks,” he said as he started the engine and then headed for the parking lot exit.
“Busy. I was working on the Browning fraud case. We managed to tie things up yesterday. Mr. Browning should be spending quite some time in prison.”
“Chalk up another one for the good guys,” he replied.
Georgina tried to relax against the seat, but it was difficult to find any relaxation at the moment. Her heart beat with a quickened rhythm. She assumed it was caused by the knowledge of the case she was now working and not how Alexander’s familiar cologne filled the air.
“You met Jackson’s new girlfriend?” she asked.
“I had dinner with the two of them last Sunday night, and then we were supposed to meet for drinks on Tuesday evening. When they didn’t show and I still couldn’t get hold of Jackson all day Wednesday, I knew in my gut that something was wrong. Last night, at my urging, Miller sent a couple of agents over to check on Jackson, and that’s when they discovered they were gone, but all of their personal items were still there.”
She saw the tightening of his fingers around the steering wheel and knew he had to be worried sick about Jackson’s well-being. “What was she like? The woman from Kansas City?”
“She’s Special Agent Marjorie Clinton.” A hint of a smile curved his lips. “She’s everything that Jackson isn’t...she likes healthy food, she thinks he’s full of baloney most of the time and it’s obvious they are crazy in love.”
“Jackson needs a good woman in his life,” she replied.
“It appears he’s found her.” He frowned. “Now all we have to do is find them.”
“It isn’t possible they flew back to Kansas City if their identifications were left behind,” she said, thinking out loud.
“They wouldn’t have gone anywhere without his wallet and her purse, both of which were left at Jackson’s place. And they definitely wouldn’t have gone anyplace without their weapons.”
“Any sign of a struggle in the bedroom?”
He shook his head, the late-afternoon sun gleaming on his black hair. “I haven’t been to the scene, but according to the two agents who checked it out last night there were some bedcovers rustled, but no real sign of a violent struggle and, trust me, Jackson would have put up quite a fight. I’m hoping maybe you and I can find or see something they missed that might give us a clue.”
“There weren’t any clues found in Bachelor Moon or Mystic Lake,” she replied.
A new knot of tension formed in his jaw. “Don’t remind me.” He pulled into the driveway of the luxury apartment complex where Jackson lived.
The Wingate apartments were set up more like condo units and definitely were for the wealthy who didn’t want the responsibility that came with owning a home.
Jackson’s unit was on the end of the last building in the complex, bumping up against a heavily wooded area and attached by a common courtyard entrance to the unit next door.
“Any sign of forced entry?” she asked as the car came to a halt.
“Not according to the initial walk-through.” He cut the engine and turned to look at her, his blue eyes like hard-edged sapphires. “We either have a perp who is an expert at picking locks or, knowing Jackson, it’s possible he went to bed without checking СКАЧАТЬ