Serial Games (Virginia Justice Book One) (16 page)

Brandon adjusted the chair to a slight recline. He locked his hands behind his head. Physically, he took up so much space Maggie couldn’t help but notice how close their bodies were to touching. Maggie turned to him.

He looked at her. “We could use her as bait.” Maggie grimaced at the thought. Brandon studied her face and laughed. “You’re picturing us hauling around a decaying body, right? Like a carrot on a string.”

Maggie smiled at the new image. “Yes, actually I am. I can just see Burrows at the edge of the woods, peering into town. Then we drag her body on some sort of stretcher, and he runs out, calling her name.”

Brandon’s laughter filled the car. Embarrassed, Maggie placed a hand over her eyes, but she smiled.

“That’s a bit morbid, don’t you think?”

Maggie scrunched her nose at him. “It was your idea.”

“My plan only involved possession of the body. I wasn’t about to turn it into zombie bait. Or dead bait, considering.” He chuckled again.

Maggie felt sheepish, but the idea wasn’t bad. In fact, it was pretty good. “Well, I’d be the first to back you on that plan.”

Brandon raised a brow. “You’d think it would work?”

Maggie nodded and gave him a small smile. “Actually, it would.” Maggie turned serious as she considered it. “Maxine Burrows was everything to her son. According to residents of the town, when she was dying, Burrows became increasingly reserved and morose. When she finally passed after a long illness, people said Burrows disappeared for a while. The photography shop was closed for weeks, and no one knew where he was. Mrs. Collins could tell you he wasn’t at home. She and her husband were practically his grandparents while he grew up. They live in the white house up the road. The one with the blue fringe. Anyway, he didn’t have a girlfriend to lean on for support, and I’ve always believed that’s why he killed.” Maggie swallowed, the images of the dead women flashing before her eyes; the women who weren’t Maxine Burrows. “He couldn’t find the love he was looking for,” she said softly.

Brandon didn’t respond. She stole a glance at his side profile. She tried not to stare at his straight nose, the sharp lines of his strong jaw, or his long lashes.

“You creating a profile on me, Agent Weston?”

Maggie looked away quickly. “Of course not.”

Brandon slowly turned his neck until his eyes met hers. “So, you’re just staring at me.”

He didn’t smile. His eyes, sparkling a minute ago, were now dark and penetrating.

Warmth coursed through Maggie like a heat wave. An undeniable energy vibrated between them. She tried not to notice his strong and commanding presence, or how beautiful his tanned skin glowed in the evening twilight. The air between them contracted and drew her forward…or did she lean in?

Brandon’s stare dropped to her lips.

She swallowed and tore her look away from his. “Why did you become a marshal, Marshal?” When he didn’t respond, she searched his eyes and saw amusement there, plus that smirk. He adjusted his seat farther back, and lazily placed an arm behind his head.

“I guess I just wanted to see bad guys put behind bars. I joined the Fugitive Recovery Team a few years back.”

The lightness of his answer couldn’t hide the weight in his voice. “Well, why not just become a cop? Or an investigator?”

His eyes met hers. “Perhaps I enjoy the chase.”

A wave rippled over her heart. Maggie couldn’t turn away. But he did. Maggie wished she had a fan in her hands. Even though the sun barely lit the sky, the summer humidity still lingered. “How long have you been in law enforcement?”

“About a decade.”

That answer took Maggie aback. He had to be older than her. “So short a time?”

“I wasn’t always in law enforcement. Actually, I used to be in business.”

“Oh, the suit and tie guy,” Maggie said lightly. “Now, that’s an image I can’t picture.”

He gave her half a grin. “I earned my masters in finance, and was the financial manager at my church.”

“You go to church? I thought—”

“No. Not anymore.”

The short answer left her frosted. Despite her issues with her sister, and sometimes her mother, family remained important to her. Their busy schedules didn’t allow them much time to socialize, but they still met almost every week at church. She never felt more loved than at church, surrounded by family and friends. Maggie feared asking him why he left.

“What happened?”

“You’re nosy, you know that?” came his contemptuous reply. “I guess you can’t help always being the profiler.”

“So, I’m never to have conversations with anyone because oh, I don’t know, I’d be collecting information on them? What would you prefer I ask you about, Marshal? The weather?”

To her surprise, he laughed softly, but made no further attempt to respond to her challenge. Instead, he fiddled with the cross at his neck.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Hmm?” He leaned forward, his eyes on the house. He must not have seen anything important for he relaxed against the seat.

“That cross. It’s beautiful. Very ornate. Is that your style?”

Brandon rested his glittering gaze on her.

“I didn’t mean for it to sound like a joke.”

His eyes lightened and he flashed a quick but cheerless smile. “It belonged to someone I knew.”

Knew?
Maggie searched his face for more but he shifted away from her, his gaze on the house. Maggie settled back in her seat. She wouldn’t apologize for making conversation. She could hold out as long as he did. If his aloofness persisted, then she’d wait him out.

“So, what’s your degree in?” he asked after a few minutes passed.

She didn’t respond.

“Oh, I get it. We’re going to act like children and give each other the silent treatment.” When she turned sharply toward him, he held up a hand.

“Are you finished?”

He looked into her eyes and she fought the onslaught of a drowning sensation. A branch snapped. She turned quickly and looked out her side of the window. A lone deer crept out from behind the tree line. Maggie slouched back in her seat and kept her eyes on the deer. Once or twice it ducked its nose into the grass, but it remained visible to Maggie. She suddenly wished she had her camera. The only animals in Washington DC were grotesquely large rats that lurked the streets at night.

“Being a cop wouldn’t have allowed me to literally chase the criminals.” Brandon’s low voice drew her concentration back to him. “High-energy, fast-paced chases. That’s what I enjoy about this job. That’s what drew me to joining the recovery team.”

“Handling money got too boring, huh?” Maggie murmured. She kept her eyes on the deer.

“Not exactly.”

After a short pause, she offered, “I double majored in criminal justice and psychology. Then I completed a masters in psychology several years back. I’m currently awaiting scheduling for my doctoral dissertation.”

“I’m impressed.” He sounded genuine. “What does your research involve?”

Maggie looked at him. “Serial killers, of course.”

A jovial smile lit Brandon’s face. “Of course. What will you do when you are Doctor Weston? Remain in law enforcement?”

Maggie shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. I kind of like consulting.”

Brandon chuckled softly.

Silence settled between them. Maggie watched her deer friend leap back into the darkness. She didn’t have all the answers she wanted from Brandon, but at least he made an effort at normal conversation. She worried about his moods. What was the source of his anger? What about his family? He guarded his privacy and she could understand that, but he bordered on the unfriendly, and that sent up red flags.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. “Did the forecast call for rain today?”

Maggie shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

A couple of drops hit the windshield. Five minutes later, a steady shower. Maggie reached behind her seat and pulled a pair of night-vision goggles from a pack Brandon had secured before they’d left the hotel. When she activated them, the house lit up green. Maggie detected no movement in the area. She lowered the goggles and squinted. Without lights on the road, the only illumination came from the moon. Light shimmered across the tall heads of corn in the cornfields and cast distorted shadows across their windshield. The dim light, coupled with the rain, made for a difficult surveillance.

“Someone I knew was the victim of an attack. The would-be thief got away.”

The low, rough timbre of his voice constricted Maggie’s heart. She peered at him in the darkness. “So each and every hunt is personal for you,” she murmured.

“Yeah.”

She could hear his struggle to choke back emotion. She appreciated his battle. It couldn’t be easy: laying bare a part of his heart she knew still ached. That was why he had no faith. The person he lost…he or she mattered to him.

Brandon cleared his throat. “Let me ask you a question.”

“Um, sure.”

“Do you attend church?”

“Yes.”

“Are you happy?”

“With what?” She refused to be baited. Maggie could respect his desire to catch criminals based on some personal vendetta, but she wouldn’t give him the opportunity to criticize her beliefs because of some emotional pain.

“You know with what.” His voice was even.

She directed a sharp look at him. He held her stare for a moment and then looked out the windshield in the direction of Burrows’s home. Maggie breathed out. “Can you be more specific?”

At first Brandon chuckled, and then the sound of the rain filled her ears. “You know, with your life. The way it’s turned out.”

Sadness laced his soft voice. No sarcasm, no bitterness. Maggie didn’t immediately respond, but she knew what her answer would be.

Yes
.

Her circumstances were nothing to be ungrateful for. Well educated, gainfully employed, and with a wonderful nephew she doted on when she could. A few desires were left unfulfilled, dreams she long ago believed would not come true. Did she feel happy in every area of her life? Well, probably not. Definitely not in her love life.

“I think happiness is a choice,” she began. “You can be content with your circumstances, and not let them rule you. You can’t be happy in every minute of every day. Depending on how you respond to situations will determine the strength you’ll have for the next one. I hope the more content I am, the easier it will be to persevere through my disappointments.”

He said nothing. Maggie wished she could believe every word she had just spoken, but at times even she faltered. She questioned the opportunities handed to her, or the lack thereof. But when she needed support, her family never wavered to keep her grounded. She sensed a deep camaraderie between Brandon and Bernie based on their unspoken looks. Did Bernie know Brandon’s pain? She wondered again about his family.

Maggie’s phone buzzed. She looked at the screen.

“Didn’t you cancel your date?” She heard a smile in his voice.

“Hello, Grandmother? Hi. Yes, I’m working.” Maggie looked at Brandon. He winked at her. She angled her head away. “Um, yes, I’m working with several men here. Look, Grandmother, can I call you back?” Her grandmother would insist on more information. “Please? I’ll call you when I finish the case. Thank you. Love you, too.”

Click
.

“So, your grandmother sounds like a matchmaker.”

Perhaps it was her grandmother’s call, or the warmth she could feel from Brandon’s nearness, but either way, Maggie’s blood overheated. She fanned herself with a page from her notebook. “She tries to be. She means well.”

“You’re single?”

Nothing complicated about the question, but Maggie couldn’t think of a simple answer. Yes. Yes, she was single. Why did that sound so…pathetic? “Yes, I am.” There, she said it. It was out. Now she could calm down. She put the night-vision goggles to her eyes to stare at the house. “Did you wonder that when you kissed me?”

She didn’t need to look at him to know he smiled. “Wouldn’t matter to me if you weren’t single.”

Maggie looked at him. He hadn’t moved from his relaxed position. His eyes held a glint of assurance in them. Waves of confidence rolled off him and threatened to pull her under. It occurred to her his kiss would have made things very difficult for her too…if she hadn’t been single. Thank goodness she was…

He smiled easily. “Tell me how Burrows kidnapped these women.”

Did he sense her uneasiness just now, or worse yet, what she had been thinking? If he did, he saved her from embarrassment yet again by the change of subject. Maggie’s anxiety eased.

“The one example we have, and it might have been true for the others, is Sally Mayes’s abduction.” Maggie took a deep breath. “It happened in broad daylight. She was jogging in a park and, from what Sally can remember, she passed right by him. He attacked from behind, covering her mouth with a cloth dosed with what was probably chloroform, and she woke up strapped to the chair in his basement.”

“A secluded park?”

Maggie shook her head. “Not exactly, no. Several people were out that day. But as it often goes, no one saw anything.”

Brandon groaned. “If that fair is going to be as crowded as everyone says it will be, no one will see anything tomorrow, either.”

Maggie rose early on the second day of the town’s fair. Fortunately for them, the first day ended without incident. No one sighted Burrows and, as of midnight last night, all the women on their list of potential targets were accounted for. She yawned as she glanced at the clock on her bedside nightstand. Five o’clock. Maggie groaned at the early hour but pulled herself out of bed. She padded over to the bathroom; a hot shower would wake her. She heard her phone chime, indicating she received a text.

You up yet?

Brandon. Maggie smiled at the lighthearted message. During the fair, they rarely saw each other. She spent most of the time at command and control and fielded calls from her office in DC. Her unit continued to investigate the other prisoners from the transfer bus. So far, none of the leads had any solid attachment to Burrows.