Bound by Blood (The Garner Witch Series) (7 page)

Unfortunately, I agreed with him on that point. As much as I wanted to believe Nathan was truly innocent, there was something he was withholding. “Agreed. But for now, why don’t we start looking in a different direction and see what we can find.”

“I’m open to suggestions.”

I arched a brow. I found it hard to believe this cocky FBI agent was willing to take a suggestion from someone else, let alone a woman.

“Don’t give me that insolent look. I just want to solve this murder so no one else dies.”

Every day we worked together, Morrison showed me one more reason to like him—despite his arrogance.

“Okay, first thing—I scheduled interviews with a few doctors who specialize in varying areas of forensic pathology. We need to figure out how the killer is draining their blood. Maybe they’ll have some ideas about the method our killer is using. If the killer needs specific supplies to accomplish the exsanguinations, we could conceivably track the purchase of those supplies. I can’t imagine specialized medical equipment would be easy to come by.”

“Hmm…that’s actually a good idea,” he muttered.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” I chastised. “Also—this will sound crazy—but I was thinking about our interview with Monica, the witness who told us Morganna was psychic.”

“What about her?”

“Well, why don’t we re-interview some of the friends and family of the others victims to find out if any of them thought Leslie Harper or Sherri Marcone were psychic.”

“You don’t believe in that crap, do you?” he asked incredulously.

“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” I evaded. “All that matters is what
they
believed. The victim’s may have thought they were actually psychic, or perhaps their friends and family did. What if the killer is some sort of religious fanatic who thinks all clairvoyants are evil and need to be sent back to Hell? Who knows? All I know is it’s another avenue for us to explore—a possible connection.”

He let out a long patient breath before responding. “I’ll admit, I can see the merits of your argument. But, I swear to God, if the other guys start calling us Mulder and Scully, there
will
be retribution.”

A burst of laughter escaped me, lightening my somber mood. Morrison grinned in response.

***

The meetings with our expert doctors bore disheartening results. Five physicians, each with varied specialties, and yet, not one had a credible theory about how the serial killer was neatly draining his victim’s blood.

It was a demoralizing finish to my week.

“Well that was a waste of time,” Morrison complained on our way out of the field office.

It was late Friday night by the time we’d finished and entered our reports, and though he would never admit to it, he was trying to be gallant by walking me to my car.

“Yeah. Why do I feel like we’re just spinning our wheels? This guy seems to be one step ahead of us.” We were each inundated with files. Apparently, we both had plans of continuing at home over the weekend. “I’ll see you Monday, Agent Morrison.”

“Bye, Reece.”

Our cars were parked near each other’s so we both pulled out at the same time. A few minutes later, I realized I forgot the information I’d gathered about my father in my desk, so I headed back to the office. As I was leaving the building for the second time, a man approached me.

“Are you Agent Reece?” he asked.

“Yes. Why?” Cautiously, I unclipped my gun holster preparing for anything. God, I was paranoid.

“I have a delivery for you.” He turned toward the back of a white van and pulled a huge bouquet of flowers.

They were breathtaking. Not an ordinary floral arrangement, it was an assortment of some of my favorite tropical flowers. Yellow mango callas, hot lava flowers, birds of paradise, and orange lilies, all bound together with an orange ribbon. When the delivery man placed them in my hand, I couldn’t help but lean forward and take in a deep breath, enjoying the intoxicatingly sweet aroma.

“Who are these from?”

“I’m not sure, but there’s a package as well.” He handed me a clip board. “Sign here, please.”

I didn’t want to open the package in the parking lot, so I waited until I got home. It was a small box—not jewelry small, but still, not large. I lifted the lid and the tissue paper inside to find...a cell phone?

I opened the phone and scrolled through the programmed information. There was nothing. Finally, I found an entry listed under contacts. It was a phone number, but where the name should have been it read ‘Call Me’.

Flooded with curiosity, I dialed. “Hello, Agent Reece. You received my package, I see.”

“Nathan?” I asked, but I knew undoubtedly who was on the other end of the phone—at least my body did, anyway. The timber of his voice sparked all sorts of nerve endings to life, even my stomach fluttered.

“You refused to give me your phone number last night, so I was forced to improvise.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Although I shouldn’t be, I was extremely flattered he’d gone to this trouble. “Always getting your way, aren’t you?” I chided, but only half-heartedly.

“I thought we had already established that fact last night,” he teased back.

“Thank you for the bouquet. How did you know my favorite flowers?”

“I had no idea they were your favorites. I sent you
my
favorite flowers.” The admission pleased me more than I was willing to acknowledge. “I suppose that means we have something in common.”

“I really shouldn’t be—”

“Agent Reece, surely by now you are aware Agent Morrison picked up the security log today.”

“How did you know?”

“Nothing happens under this roof without my knowledge.” His quiet, but slightly patronizing grunt reverberated in my ear. “I am sure you have no doubt confirmed and accounted for my whereabouts on the nights in question.”

“And?”

“
And
I was hoping you would agree to have dinner with me?”

I wanted so badly to say yes, but, “I’m sorry I can’t.”

“Could I ask you something else then?” he asked, unfazed by the rejection.

“Um…sure.”

“Could I use your first name?”

A short burst of laughter escaped. That wasn’t what I was expecting. “It’s Brianna.”

He paused. “That name suits you perfectly.”

“Really? I always felt it was unusual.”

“You are in no way
usual
.” He emphasized the word with a tinge of distaste.

If he only knew how far from
usual
I was. My mouth curled into a grin as I pictured what his reaction would be if I told him I was a witch.

“It is as though your mother had a glimpse into your character when she named you.” He said.

“Huh?”

“Have you never researched the meaning of your name? The name Brianna means possessing strength and fortitude. As I said, it suits you.”

Although I was immensely thrilled by the compliment, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Please tell me you don’t have an encyclopedia of names beside you.”

He chuckled at my reaction. “No. I had a dear friend who named her daughter Brianna. She informed me that its meaning was the reason she chose the name. She was rather eccentric.” The word ‘eccentric’ was said with deep affection, and I heard the smile in his voice. “She was under the misguided belief that if she chose a name for its meaning, those traits would inevitably impress upon her daughter.”

“Oh. That’s actually really sweet, and as good a reason as any to choose a name, I suppose. Besides, who says it’s misguided? What’s her daughter like?”

He was quiet for a few heartbeats before he answered in a somber tone. “I don’t know. My friend passed away.” He sighed.

Suddenly, I was regretting the question. I could tell it was a source of pain for him.

“Her daughter was sent to live with family and I never had the chance to meet her.”

“I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“It is all right.”

A long stretch of silence passed before I said, “I should be going.”

“Will you call me, Brianna?” The husky, gravelly tone of his voice as he said my name made me wonder: Is this what his voice would sound like while whispering my name in the throes of passion? My head suddenly filled with images of that scenario. A shiver rolled down my spine from the visual. Holy crap—I had to get a grip.

When I didn’t answer right away he mistook my hesitation. “You really
should
call me.”

“I should, should I? Why’s that?” I asked, playfully.

“We have already ascertained that I am an assertive and determined man. Therefore, it is a foregone conclusion that you will eventually relent. Why prolong the inevitable?”

I snorted. “That was a very polite, roundabout way of saying you’re bossy and always get your own way.” An unrestrained smile tugged at my lips.

“Yes, it was,” he agreed, unrepentantly. “Given my profession, I think it is safe to say I believe in good security. Would you agree?”

“I suppose,” I hedged.

“Therefore, my professional advice is that you should not be alone with a stranger.”

“I’m confused. You’re saying that I shouldn’t go out with strangers.”

“You certainly should not.”

I pointed out the obvious. “You’re a stranger to me.”

“That is why it is imperative we get to know each other.” He was speaking as though his reasoning was clear. “Since we have determined we will inexorably end up going for dinner together, I suggest a few phone conversations so we can get to know each other. Therefore, we will no longer be strangers.”

“Really?” I chuckled. I wasn’t used to being pursued this relentlessly. I liked it. And talking with Nathan was more fun than I’d had in years. How sad was that? “That was the most circuitous logic I’ve ever heard.”

“Then you admit you see the logic?” His tone was laced with humor.

“You really don’t give up, do you?”

“No, I do not. Good night, Brianna.”

“Good night, Nathan.” Somehow I knew when I hung up I’d be hearing from him again.

The thought forced another involuntary smile.

***

The weekend whizzed by. After reviewing my case files and scheduling some appointments with witnesses, I decided to get some unpacking done. Although, I was surprised I managed to get
anything
done with all of the interruptions.

It started Saturday morning when I heard an unfamiliar beeping coming from the phone Nathan gave me. I picked it up and noticed there was a text message from Call Me.

What is your fav color?

I actually giggled like a teenager when I read it, and I immediately responded.

Red. What’s yours?

I stared at the screen, eagerly awaiting his response.

Used to be green until I saw your eyes. Now it is blue.

Every word from him was like a hammer chipping away at the wall I was determined to put between us. I waited, and when it was clear he wasn’t going to send another text, I continued with my work.

The messages repeated randomly throughout the weekend. He wanted to know everything from the types of books I read, my taste in movies and music, to whether I liked opera or live theatre. He’d text a question arbitrarily, wait for a response, answer if I returned a question, and then it’d be a few hours until I heard from him again.

I was in so much trouble. It was hopeless to remain emotionally distant from the man. He was an old-fashioned romantic, and his charm was wearing on me. The fact that he kept texting me, capriciously, throughout the entire weekend was an effective way of letting me know I was constantly on his mind.

Monday morning, I made my regular stop into Starbucks on my way to work. I ordered my usual: large coffee, black. But when I tried to pay, the barista informed me it was already paid for, and then inclined her head to a man sitting in the corner.

Nathan.

He was grinning from ear–to-ear as I approached.

“You know some might consider this stalking,” I said, wryly.

“You have forced me to be more creative. And I like to think of it as persistence,” he responded with a cocky smirk.

I sat down figuring I could spare a few minutes.

We talked for what I thought was only minutes before I looked at the clock and realized half an hour had passed.

“Crap! Sorry, I have to run. I’m late.” I tossed my empty cup into the recycling bin and headed for the door. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Brianna.” He called out.

“Yes?”

“I was thinking of having coffee here tomorrow morning, as well. Would you consider that stalking?” he asked tentatively.

I laughed. “No. But if you are going to be here, I might come a bit earlier so I’m not late for work.”

His mouth tipped in a crooked grin. “I will see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Chapter 6

Just as he’d promised, Nathan met me for coffee the following morning, and every morning the rest of that week as well. He also called every night before I went to bed. The conversation flowed easily, making the hours feel like minutes. And he was right—there was an irrefutable connection between us.

Everything about him attracted me. Fighting his lure was as useless as trying to defy gravity, and I could no sooner avoid him than I could fly. It wasn’t only his looks, either—even though he was spectacular. He was also old-fashioned, honorable, charming, and thoughtful. But all of that perfection was counterbalanced by an undercurrent of something almost…menacing. Despite the fact my extrasensory perceptions were ineffective with him, I sensed the danger lurking beneath his carefully-controlled, perfectly-polite exterior. Yet, what I felt wasn’t evil. More like darkness, the type of darkness that lingers after a tragedy. He’d seen some battles, of that, I was sure.

In fact, during some of our discussions, I had the distinct impression the man had been either military, or in some form of law enforcement. Hard to tell for sure, though. He was insanely cryptic, often deliberately obscure, and either avoided certain subjects all together or answered a question with a question. It was a little frustrating sometimes, but who was I to complain? I was definitely editing aspects of my life as well. But really, even simple questions didn’t always get straightforward answers.