Scene of the Crime: Baton Rouge

At first Alexander thought he’d only imagined the faint knock on his door because he wanted her to come to him. It was only when he heard a second, louder knock that he responded.

“Come in,” he called, his heart pounding a little faster.

His door opened and in the faint moonlight casting in through his windows he could see her silhouette in the doorway. “Did I wake you?” she asked.

“No, I’m not even close to being asleep,” he replied. “Did you need something?” His voice sounded slightly hoarse to his own ears as blood rushed through his body.

“I need you.”

Her voice sounded stark and his heart pressed painfully tight against his chest. “You’ve got me, Georgina. Whenever you need me, you’ve always had me.”

She remained standing, as if weighing her options. “It’s just for tonight, Alex. I’m using you. I’m only inviting myself into your bed for tonight, not back into your life in any meaningful way.”

“So, you just want to take advantage of me for a single night,” he said with a forced lightness.

“That’s about the size of it,” she replied.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Scene of the Crime: Baton Rouge

Carla Cassidy

New York Times bestselling author CARLA CASSIDY is an award-winning author who has written more than fifty novels for Mills & Boon. In 1995, she won an award from RT Book Reviews for Anything for Danny. In 1998, she also won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series from RT Book Reviews.

Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.

Contents

Cover

Excerpt

Title Page

About the Author

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

His heart jumped just a little when he saw her. Alexander Harkins wasn’t really surprised. His heart had jumped the very first time that he’d met her, and now even two years after their divorce, it was as if it was an involuntary response that he had a feeling he would never be able to control.

Special Agent Georgina Beaumont might wear her rich dark hair boyishly short, but there was nothing remotely boyish about her large green eyes fringed with long dark lashes or her classically beautiful features.

There was definitely nothing faintly masculine about her full breasts, tiny waist and long slender legs. Even in a short-sleeved white blouse and neatly tailored black slacks, she managed to look effortlessly feminine and ridiculously hot.

He was seated on the other side of the large conference room when she entered and struck up a conversation with two other FBI agents who stood near the doorway.

Since their divorce, they’d worked out of this same building but hadn’t been assigned a case to work together and had only run into each other occasionally. The fact that they were both in this same room indicated that was about to change.

A knot tightened in Alexander’s chest as he speculated on what they were all about to be handed. It didn’t really take much thought on the matter. He knew the people in this room had been called together to form a task force to handle the issue of missing FBI agents and their loved ones.

He was more than happy to be part of the team because the last agent who had disappeared was a close friend of his.

Jackson Revannaugh had gone to Kansas City to work a case and had returned two weeks ago with a fellow FBI agent named Marjorie who had obviously won his heart. Three days ago Marjorie and Jackson had gone missing from Jackson’s lavish apartment... just like an agent and her husband in Kansas City and another agent and his wife from the nearby small town of Bachelor Moon.

Two nights before their disappearance, Alexander had met Jackson and Marjorie for dinner at a restaurant known for its creole cuisine. He’d been charmed by Marjorie, who talked as if she intended to transfer from the Kansas City bureau to Baton Rouge in order to continue the relationship with Jackson. He’d never seen his friend, famous for being an unashamed ladies’ man, so taken by a woman. Alexander had definitely heard the peal of wedding bells in the not-too-distant future for the two. And now they were gone, apparently taken from their bed in the middle of a Tuesday night.

There were eight agents in the room when Director Jason Miller entered. The tall, gray-haired man would be an imposing figure under any circumstances, but at the moment, with his strong jawline throbbing with tension and his blue eyes sharp and narrowed, he looked ready to breathe fire. The agents quickly found chairs at the long conference table and fell silent.

Alexander found himself seated across from Georgina. She cast him a quick smile and then directed her focus on her boss. That little smile of hers evoked old memories that he shouldn’t have retained, that should have been erased the minute he’d signed the divorce papers two years before.

He quickly turned his attention to Director Miller, already dreading the job he feared was ahead of them all. On the wall behind Miller was a whiteboard/bulletin board that at the moment was covered with a large sheet of blank white paper.

The silence in the room shattered as Miller turned to the board and ripped off that paper. The whiteboard side was pristine, ready for dry-erase markers to get to work, but the bulletin board was papered with perfectly aligned photos of the missing people.

Alexander’s heart squeezed tight as he looked at the photo of seven-year-old Macy Connelly and then moved to a picture of his dark-haired, handsome friend, Jackson. There were a total of seven pictures of people who had seemingly vanished from the face of the earth over the past couple of months.

These weren’t ordinary people, four of them were seasoned FBI agents, one a respected sheriff, one a beloved wife and one a precious little girl. There was circumstantial evidence that they’d all been taken unwillingly from their homes.

“We have a problem,” Miller said, his voice booming in the room. “We have seven missing people, no bodies, no ransom notes and you all are going to find out what has happened to these people. Officially, you are now a task force working solely on this case.”

“Why here and not in Kansas City?” Alexander asked, knowing that two of the people had disappeared from the small town of Mystic Lake, just outside of Kansas City.

“Because this morning we believe we received communication from the perp.” Miller moved to the board and tapped what was obviously a copy of a note that was pinned there. “For those of you who can’t see from where you’re seated, it reads, ‘Right under your nose I work my plan, to become the best killer in the land. I’ve collected my research subjects two by two, and the world will shudder when I’m through.’ It’s signed by the FBI-trained serial killer.” Miller looked disgusted.

Several of the other men muttered curses beneath their breaths and shifted in their seats. Right under your nose—that implied the perp was somewhere here in the Baton Rouge area. Alexander’s stomach muscles knotted. Research subjects—that sounded like some crazy mad scientist who was taking apart the brains of his victims, he thought grimly.

As he listened to Miller give the condensed version of each of the crimes, he focused intently and tried to keep his gaze from the woman across the table.

He knew these particular crimes had stymied the law enforcement officials in Bachelor Moon, a small town not too far from Baton Rouge, and in Mystic Lake, Missouri. There had been no clues, no forensic evidence, nothing to indicate whether the vanished were dead or alive. The note, if it could be believed, at least indicated that the person responsible was someplace in this area...right under their noses.

Already adrenaline surged through him, the eagerness for the hunt and the anticipation of the chase. As one of the agents passed around thick folders to each of the people in the room, Alexander glanced up and his gaze met Georgina’s.

Her green eyes appeared electrified and he knew she felt the same flood of energy, the readiness to get to work, that he did. He tried not to remember that her eyes had also lit up like that when they were making love.

They had been married for two years and the amount of information he knew about his ex-wife could be written on a small cocktail napkin.

He frowned and focused on the contents of the folder he’d been given. It was filled with the details and reports of the FBI agents who had originally investigated each event.

“Harkins,” Miller said, the stern voice pulling Alexander from his reading.

“Sir?” he replied.

“I’m appointing you lead on this. Every agent will report to you, and you will report to me.”

Dread mingled with the faint tease of potential redemption. The last time he’d taken lead on an important case, a young woman had been murdered a single minute before his team had arrived, and soon after that debacle, his marriage had failed.

He’d been plunged into a depression that had lasted for weeks, haunted by the face of the murdered woman and later enduring the pain on Georgina’s face as she’d told him she needed out.

He knew he was a good agent, one of the best, and he also understood that his director was showing his complete faith in him by giving him the lead in a case of such importance.

“Thank you, sir,” he replied. He stared down at the reports in front of him. Although he didn’t have a marriage to lose this time around, he was intensely aware that seven people were depending on him doing the best job he possibly could to lead this task force to save them.

* * *

GEORGINA WAS ACUTELY AWARE of Alexander’s presence from the moment she’d entered the conference room. He was a force of nature, emanating energy as his blue eyes focused on his surroundings.

Miller had left the room and Alexander had moved to take his place at the head of the conference table. He looked confident and at ease, but she knew him well enough to recognize how important this case was to him.

It was important to her as well. It was the biggest case she’d ever worked and, as the only woman in a roomful of men, she was desperate to prove that she was more than up to everyone’s standards.

She’d spent her five-year career with the FBI trying to raise herself from being a good agent to a great one and this was the kind of case that could make that happen for her.

“We’ll spend our first couple of hours here going over the contents of the folders and getting familiar with what’s already happened and where we are now,” Alexander said. “We’ll start with what happened in Bachelor Moon.”

She listened to his deep rich voice detail the fact that former FBI agent Sam Connelly, his wife Daniella and Daniella’s seven-year-old daughter had disappeared during what had appeared to be a late-night snack session in their kitchen. Cookies and milk had been half consumed and a chair had been overturned, indicating that something untoward had occurred.

Although he looked calm and focused, she knew the torture he’d suffered the last time he’d been lead on a case that had gone bad. It had been a torment that had highlighted all her failings as a wife—as a person—and had ultimately forced her to make the decision that he was better off without her.

But that was then and this was now, she reminded herself. She couldn’t dwell on the past, she needed to get her mind in this game, to prove she was as good as, if not better than, every other agent in the room.

“The second disappearance occurred in Mystic Lake, Missouri,” Alexander continued. “Amberly Caldwell, an FBI agent, and her husband, Cole, the local sheriff disappeared from Cole’s home. Our own Jackson Revannaugh was sent to Kansas City to help in that particular investigation. And then, as you all should know by now, three nights ago Jackson and his girlfriend, an FBI agent from Kansas City, went missing.”

“How do we know that Jackson just didn’t take his honey off somewhere for a few days?” Agent Nicholas Cutter asked. “He was on vacation for another week or so, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, but according to the agents who investigated Jackson’s house last night, all their identifications, their weapons and personal items were still in the bedroom where we assume they were sleeping,” Alexander replied.

Georgina shot a glance at Nicholas. He was relatively new to the bureau and already had a reputation for being a hotshot wanting to make a name for himself. While she shared the same desire, she was a team player and she wasn’t sure that Nicholas cared about any team.

She rarely made snap judgments about anyone, but the first time she’d met Nicholas Cutter, she hadn’t particularly liked him. Still, she was a professional and never, ever let her personal feelings show. In her job this ability was a blessing. In her personal life it had been a curse.

“I want you all to take some time now and read through all the reports, look at all the photos that are included in your folders and familiarize yourself with everything that’s been done so far with all the different law enforcement agencies that have been involved,” Alexander said.

He returned to his seat across from her and the room fell silent except for the turning of pages as each of the agents began to learn the details of what had been accomplished through the different investigations and what was ahead of them.

Despite the fact that September had arrived on Wednesday, two days before, brilliant warm sunshine drifted into the windows and dust motes floated in the air.

Georgina was a fast reader and easily retained what she read. She was finished long before the others and leaned back in her chair, hoping to escape the faint scent of Alexander that drifted across the table.

He wore the same spicy cologne he’d worn when they had been married. The scent of it stirred not only memories of being held in his arms, of making love, but also a depth of failure she had tried for two years to put behind her.

She looked back down at the folder and opened it to the photos of the victims. Failure was not an option now. She might not make friends easily, she might be incapable of any real intimacy with anyone, but she was going to work her butt off to find out what happened to these people.

“I think they’re still alive,” she said, breaking the silence that had filled the room. “We have no bodies, and the note, if it’s really from the perp, implies he’s keeping them as some sort of scientific study.”

“I agree,” Agent Tim Gardier replied. He was the youngest agent in the room. Painfully thin, with glasses and a head full of red hair that had probably not seen a barbershop in the last five years, he was also a genius computer geek and a genuinely nice guy.

“I don’t know, maybe we just haven’t stumbled on their bodies yet,” Nicholas said.

Georgina mentally groaned. Just what they all needed, negativity at the very beginning of an investigation.

“It would be quite a challenge to house and feed seven captives,” Agent Frank Webb added. “Especially if only one person is responsible for all this.”

“It’s too early in the investigation to make the assessment that we’re only hunting one perpetrator,” Alexander said. “What I hope is that the note received this morning really is from our man, and I hope it’s the beginning of him becoming chatty.”

“He hasn’t had much to say until now,” Nicholas said, a frown cutting across his broad forehead. “We don’t even know if he’s finished or if he intends to kidnap more people.”

“You’re right,” Alexander said with a touch of impatience in his voice. “We don’t know much of anything about this person. We don’t know if he has enough ‘research subjects.’ We don’t even know if his plans for more subjects include someone in this room.”

These words sobered everyone. Their discussion lasted until one o’clock in the afternoon at which time Alexander called for a lunch break.

“Everyone back here at two o’clock sharp and I’ll start breaking this down with assignments,” he said.

Alexander was still seated in his chair with his focus on the contents of the folder as Georgina and the rest of the agents left the room.

She had no idea where the others were going, but she found herself walking next to Tim, who was obviously heading in the same direction as she was, to the cafeteria in the basement of the building.

“I have a feeling we’d better fuel up while we can,” Tim said as they stepped into the elevator to ride down two floors. “I’m seeing long hours and few breaks in my future.”

She gazed up at him, noting that the lights in the elevator turned his red hair into a furry ball of orange. “Have you worked with Alexander before?”

“Never as lead, but he has a reputation for being tough and driven. You should know how he works.” The elevator stopped and the doors opened, and together they followed the hallway that would lead them to the cafeteria.

“He’s definitely tough and driven,” she replied.

Alexander had always been driven, it was part of what had attracted her to him in the first place. She could only imagine since the Gilmer case, which had gone wrong the last time he’d been lead investigator, that his drive for success was even deeper.

She grabbed a salad and Tim took two cheeseburgers and fries and they found a quiet table in the corner that suited them both. She knew Tim was comfortable with her, but like her, he wasn’t necessarily a people person.

They ate quickly, not talking about the work ahead of them, but rather Tim explaining about a new computer program he was working on. Georgina found most of his talk gobbledygook, but she apparently nodded and murmured in the right places for he seemed pleased with both her and himself by the time they had finished their meal.

When they returned to the “war” room, Alexander was still in the same place he’d been when they’d left, letting her know he hadn’t taken a lunch break.

She wasn’t surprised. There had been many times during their marriage when they’d been working separate cases that she’d have to remind him to stop and eat or to fall into bed and catch a couple hours of sleep.

She knew how he worked. Without anyone in his life to tell him to slow down, he’d go until he crashed and burned. But he wasn’t her worry anymore, she reminded herself.

She and Tim were followed into the room by most of the rest of the team. Nobody wanted to be the last one back from lunch.

The minute everyone was seated, Alexander once again went to the head of the table. “Right now we’re all going to function on the supposition that the note we received is real, that our perp is holding these people and he’s from the Baton Rouge area,” he began. “I’m assigning Tim and Jeff to work on getting locations of all abandoned buildings and warehouses on the outskirts of town. If this person is holding seven people captive, then it would be in a place where nobody would see his activity and nobody could hear our victims scream.” His jaw tightened.

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.

Chapter Two

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.”