Serial Games (Virginia Justice Book One) (13 page)

As he walked back toward his table, a twinge of guilt seeped from his conscience. He ignored it.

****

Maggie sat in the foyer of the hotel and waited for Doug’s arrival. They had planned to visit the new owner of Burrows Photography, Happy Gilbert. According to her documentation, Happy became managing partner of the business during Burrows’s trial and subsequent incarceration. They knew nothing else about Happy other than his modest financial holdings, which indicated no red flags.

Happy Gilbert intrigued Maggie. She didn’t recall hearing his name during her initial investigation of Burrows. Happy wasn’t an employee of the photography shop during the time Burrows had committed the murders. Quite possibly they overlooked him somehow, as an acquaintance of Burrows’s and nothing more. Many people knew Burrows but had no connection to the murders. Clearly, Burrows trusted Gilbert enough to run the business. Unfortunately, that meant Maggie and her team probably missed their initial link, which may have led them to the killer sooner the first time around. Maggie closed her eyes and breathed out evenly. She dispelled the frustrated voice in her head. She wouldn’t dwell on that likelihood now. She and Doug would ascertain the depth of the relationship between the two, and then determine Burrows’s next move.

Maggie’s research last night yielded nothing. Reading the bios of the thugs who escaped with Burrows produced no new leads. Each man, after several violations of the law, found their way on the road to a supermax for life in prison. None were of any importance, and had no connection to Burrows. Most were involved in drugs, with one or two tied to organized crime. Maggie entertained the idea of a link between organized crime and Burrows but after a phone call to the DA this morning and a promise to look into it, Maggie settled that prospect on the back burner of possibilities.

Minutes ticked by on the ornate clock above the guest reservation desk. Maggie expected a little delay from Doug, due to his late night in command and control. Although not privy to what happened, she imagined he tried to keep pace with Deckker all the while matching wits and brawn with Brandon.

Maggie chuckled. For as long as Doug and Deckker knew each other, Doug had his fascination for Deckker on full display for everyone to see. Only Deckker didn’t notice. Or maybe she knew and ignored him — Maggie wasn’t sure, but she knew Deckker would never give him a chance.

The lobby door opened and a marshal Maggie recognized entered the hotel.

A marshal.

Brandon.

Last night in her room, she’d prayed for the strength to keep her mind disciplined on Burrows.

But his kiss…

It had charged every nerve and instead of being able to channel her energies into her project, she’d bounced off the walls in her room as if she had just downed a triple shot of espresso. Maggie’s eyes closed and her lips parted at the memory. Every detail flooded her mind: his mouth, his arm holding her to him, his callused hand gentle on her cheek. The kiss was both demanding and sweet: the most perfect first kiss ever.

“Maggie, you ready?”

Her eyes fluttered open. Doug stood before her with a confused stare. “Yes,” she forced out. “No, I wasn’t sleeping.”

Doug grinned widely. “Wasn’t even thinking it.”

No sooner had she stood to walk out to their vehicle did her thoughts return to Brandon. She secretly wished he’d maintain a level of professionalism that would allow her to do the same. Truth be told, she felt inadequate to the task of guarding her emotions when she was near him — if last night was any proof.

Then this morning happened. The conflict brewing in his eyes, the intensity of his touch: Maggie saw no trace of the desire he had showed the night before. He kept his voice clipped and the physical distance between them wasn’t lost on her. Only a lingering vigor in his eyes when his gaze took in her appearance gave hint to his suppressed emotions. That vigor now made her blush.

Now he decides to behave in a more professional manner?
His tone, demeanor, attitude…all were just as she hoped they would be the morning after their kiss. So, why was she so upset? Why did she suddenly wish for a hint or even a look that would heat her blood and cause her to agonize further? Did she secretly expect a deeper familiarity?
Well, I guess we’ve already crossed that line
.

“Wait!”

Maggie turned to see Deckker ran in their direction.

“Deckker. Can’t keep away from me, can you? Wanna come with?”

Deckker rolled her eyes at Doug. “Believe me, I’d have sent someone else out here if they weren’t all on the phone. Anyway, I just heard about some sort of festival happening soon. I believe that’s what Brandon went to talk to the mayor about.”

“Okay, thanks, Deckker.” A festival? Maggie decided whatever the town was celebrating wasn’t important. Right now, Happy Gilbert needed her attention.

“No problem. See you two when you get back.”

Maggie stood with Doug as they watched Deckker walk back into the hotel.
You have no reason to be jealous, or envious for that matter
. No, she didn’t. God had given her outward beauty, and brains to match. She could attract a man, but just any man wouldn’t do. Maggie sighed audibly. Brandon’s kiss in the elevator last night, and then his indifference this morning, gnawed at her.

For the sake of the case, Maggie needed to keep herself emotionally reserved, but the fervor in his gaze and the potency of his voice left her unsettled.

Intuition kicked in and suggested another alternative to Brandon’s shifting mood. One completely unrelated to maintaining professional distance. But what? Did he want her at all? If he even had an ounce of desire for her, he was fighting it.

****

A small bell chimed when Maggie opened the door to the photography shop on Davis Street. The front desk remained in the exact spot she remembered. A large photo album with dated photos laid open on the counter, beside it a receipt book and at the furthest end from the door, an old register. Behind the counter, a black sheet covered a large seat, which abutted a dark velvet drape hanging from a wall. The shop boasted upgraded photography equipment and new ceiling lights, Maggie guessed to complement the advanced equipment.

Maggie peered at the receipt book and fingered the corners of the used pages. Business was good. Happy Gilbert faithfully continued the Burrows legacy.

“I don’t know what I expected, but I thought this place would have been completely changed. Almost nothing is new.” Doug stood beside her.

“It’s eerie, isn’t it? Like stepping back into time.” Maggie cast her friend a glance.

“I wonder if anyone is here.” Doug walked around the back of the counter toward the shoot area.

Maggie’s gaze strayed to the album on the desk. She spotted a picture of a small boy. His clothes were dated, yet the look in his eyes held Maggie’s to the page. Even the binding of the album looked familiar. Had she seen this before?

“Hey, Maggie, take a look at this.”

Maggie put the album down and came around the counter to stand beside Doug. He pointed to a picture on one of the walls.

“I’ve always loved period shots. Look at the couple in their cowboy getup. Do you think I could pull off the Marlboro man?”

Maggie laughed lightly. She smiled at another photograph with three children, possibly from the same family, dressed in cowboy hats, gun belts, and boots complete with spurs. They each sported a stern expression and looked ready for high noon. “Perhaps we could get a pricelist on photo packages and come back so you can fulfill a childhood fantasy.”

Doug smiled wistfully. “Nothing like being a kid, eh?”

“Can I help you?” A crusty voice came from the back of the shop. Maggie turned to see an older man with a silver beard shuffle toward them. He slightly raised the tweed hat he wore on his head. A dim red light came from the room the man exited and the metallic smell of developing chemicals followed him.

“Are you Happy Gilbert?” Doug asked.

“Who wants to know?”

“We are special agents with the FBI.” Doug pulled his badge and credentials from his jacket pocket and flashed his picture before he returned it to his pocket.

“I didn’t get a good look at that.”

“What?” Doug tilted his head toward the man, a challenge in his voice.

“My eyes are going bad.”

“And you run a photography shop?”

“Mr. Gilbert.” Maggie stepped forward and produced her badge. “I’m Agent Weston and this is Agent Fairbanks. You are Happy Gilbert, correct?”

The man strained his neck to see the badge. “Yeah, I’m Happy.” His drawl lagged on as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t recall you purchasing a photo package.”

“We haven’t, no.” Maggie bit back a smile but shot Doug a quick look. He smirked.

“Then could you please step around the counter?” Happy held his hand out in a gesture to lead the agents back to the front of the shop. Doug grunted and turned on his heels.

“Mr. Gilbert, we didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“That’s fine, miss, but I’d like to keep this area clean for paying customers.”

“Of course,” Maggie hurried.

When they were once again in front of the counter, Happy positioned himself on a stool near the register and gave them a toothy grin. “Now, how may I help you?”

Maggie caught Happy’s even stare. “I’m sure you’ve heard John Michael Burrows has escaped custody.”

Happy nodded his head slowly. “I have.”

“Has he contacted you?” Doug asked quickly.

“Nope.”

“I understand you are managing partner of this business?”

Happy turned a quizzical eye on Maggie. “I am, miss.”

“Can you tell us how you came to know Mr. Burrows?”

“I’ve known him ever since he was a little boy.”

“Is that right? I don’t remember seeing you the last time we were here,” Doug asked doubtfully.

“That don’t mean I didn’t know him.”

“Were you friends with his mother?” Maggie asked.

“God rest her soul. She worked hard to build this business. I upgraded the equipment and lights last year.” Happy gestured around. “Can’t make quality pictures without havin’ the latest equipment. She really had a gift. She could capture the soul in a person’s eyes.” Happy looked beyond them, as if seeing the past before him.

“You said you knew her son, John.” Maggie steered the conversation back to Burrows.

“Yup, sure did. He was a bright boy, that one.”

“Yeah, real bright,” Doug gritted.

Maggie cast a wary glance Doug’s way.

“He was. Yet, somethin’ wasn’t right in him, you know?” Happy shifted on the stool and crossed his arms over his chest. “Somethin’ happened to him. Probably born that way, but it was somethin’, and he wasn’t quite right. Oh, he was a good boy. Never gave anyone a moment’s trouble. But his eyes…”

“Mr. Gilbert,” Maggie leaned forward on the counter, “have you seen Burrows?”

Happy’s eyes sparked. Maggie leaned back. Her arms grew cold and bumps pricked her skin. Happy Gilbert chewed on his lip. A weighty silence settled in the shop. Happy sniffed.

“Mr. Gilbert, answer the question.” Doug’s voice held no patience.

“You gotta warrant?”

“What?”

“Mr. Gilbert, we don’t need a warrant to ask a few simple questions.” Maggie lowered her voice, hoping to ease the growing tension. “We just want to know whether or not you’ve had any contact with him.”

“Is that right?”

“If you’ve had contact with him,” Maggie began slowly, “or know where he is and don’t tell us, you could be looking at charges of obstruction and aiding and abetting a fugitive. You have a business to run. We don’t want to see that suffer.”

He stepped off the stool. His eyes matched the color of the lights in the back room. “I know my rights.”

“Mr. Gilbert, please,” Maggie pleaded. Her hand stretched out on the photo album. “As you said, Burrows is not exactly right. He killed women in your town. Women I’m sure you knew. Women who visited this shop.”

“Ya’ll never found their bodies.”

Maggie blinked, taken aback.

“He was convicted in a court of law.” Doug put a fist on the counter.

“Which makes no sense, convicting people without evidence.”

“Oh, there was plenty of evidence, Mr. Gilbert,” Doug spat.

“Regardless. Would you want to see another woman harmed?” Maggie pressed. Mr. Gilbert’s eyes narrowed, his eyebrows knitted. “Do you want to see a young woman you’ve known all
her
life disappear?”

Happy Gilbert chewed on his lip.

“Mr. Gilbert. It is true those women were never found. It is also true their families have no rest, no peace. Our prayer is they died quickly and without pain. But based on how we discovered Burrows, it is most likely they did not.” Maggie gripped the edges of the counter, leaned forward. Her eyes never left Happy’s. “Somewhere out there is that scared little boy you know who only knows one way to behave.”

Happy licked his lips.

“Mr. Gilbert, we need to know where he is. If you know anything at all, please, tell us.”

Maggie held her breath. She searched his eyes for comprehension of the gravity of their situation. Air dried Happy’s lips while he made no effort to move them. Maggie inhaled slowly and deeply. She kept his gaze, not willing to give up just yet. Happy fondly remembered Burrows’s mother, and Burrows himself. He knew Burrows was a man who could not be allowed to roam free. Unfortunately, loyalty to Burrows or his mother — Maggie couldn’t determine which — kept Happy from being more forthcoming about his friend.

“I don’t think I can help ya’ll anymore. I have a ten a.m. who is walking through the door right now.” The entry bell chimed.

Maggie closed her eyes in frustration and licked her own dry lips. She backed away from the counter as a young couple hesitantly made their way forward.

“Harboring a fugitive is a felony offense, Mr. Gilbert. I’d reconsider if I were you,” Doug warned.

“You ain’t got no warrant, so you don’t know what I’ve got. I’ve told you all I can right now. I have a business to run, if you don’t mind.” He motioned for the couple to step closer to the counter.