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

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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.”

“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 that all the doors were locked. He always thought he was invincible.” Frustration deepened the tone of his voice.

“Then let’s just hope that whatever has happened to him, he remains invincible,” she replied.

He cast her a quicksilver smile that lingered only for a moment, just long enough to whisper heat through her. “Let’s get inside and see what we can find.” He opened his car door and was halfway to the courtyard entry as she hurried to catch up to him.

They had just reached the fence that led to the courtyard when a figure stepped out of the woods. Alexander filled his hand with his gun in the blink of an eye and then muttered a curse and jammed it back into his shoulder holster.

“Jeez, Joe, do you want to get yourself shot?”

FBI agent Joe Markum stepped closer to them with a wry grin. “Jeez, Harkins, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“You know my motto...shoot first and ask questions later,” Alexander replied. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was assigned late last night to sit on the place to make sure nobody except appropriate officials gained access. Somebody should be arriving soon to take my place, but I’m assuming it isn’t you two.” He nodded to Georgina with a friendly smile.

“We’re here to investigate,” she said. “Miller formed a task force this morning and Alexander is leading it.”

“And we’re hoping to find something that was missed last night,” Alexander said.

“Knock yourselves out.” Joe gestured toward the front door. “It’s unlocked and there’s protective gear in boxes on the porch.”

“Thanks,” Alexander said and together he and Georgina walked through the gate and to the front door where a box of booties and latex gloves awaited whomever might venture into the house.

Georgina pulled on the protective gear and once again her heart began to beat faster. She’d never been in Jackson’s home before, but it was the fact that she was about to enter what they’d already determined to be a crime scene that had her adrenaline flooding through her.

As she followed Alexander into the house, she tried not to notice how his lightweight suit jacket pulled over his broad shoulders, how his black slacks fit perfectly around his slim waist and down his long legs.

She tried not to remember what it had felt like to dance her fingers over his naked muscled chest, how her legs had often twined with his when they’d made love.

They had been great in the bedroom. It had only been when they got out of bed that she hadn’t been able to get the relationship right. She firmly shoved these thoughts out of her mind as they entered Jackson’s living room.

Jackson was the epitome of a Southern man and his furnishings reflected the style of warmth and invitation that would have done any Southerner proud.

The oversize sofa was a rich burgundy and gold print, flanked by burgundy wing-backed chairs. The coffee table was a large square of wood that held a gorgeous floral arrangement. The room was beautiful, but obviously rarely used and not the center of the home.

“Nothing looks like it’s been touched in here,” Alexander said as he moved into the next room, a large great room more casually decorated and obviously the space where Jackson spent much of his time.

A huge flat-screen television hung over a stone fireplace and two leather recliners provided the perfect places to sit and watch a movie or dancing flames. Again, it appeared as if nothing untoward had occurred in this room. There was no sign of a struggle or anything amiss.

Neither of them spoke as they entered the kitchen with its large table and variety of pots and pans hanging from a baker’s rack on the wall. Everything was neat and tidy and she watched as Alexander dragged a hand through his dark hair.

“I guess the report we got that they were taken from their bed is true. Nothing seems to be out of place down here. We should head upstairs.”

She nodded and once again found herself following him up the stairs that led to three bedrooms and two baths. The first two bedrooms and the hallway bathroom showed nothing untoward.

She felt her entire body tense as they approached the master bedroom. She stepped into the room just behind her partner. The king-size bed was unmade. The sheets trailed off to the floor on the closest side of the bed to the door.

“That bedding doesn’t look normal to me,” Alexander said as he stood still as a statue, his gaze lingering on the bed.

“By the way the sheets are hanging off, it looks like somebody was dragged from the bed,” Georgina observed.

“I agree.” The knot in his jaw throbbed as he pointed to the farthest nightstand. “But, how could anyone drag them out of bed when Jackson had his gun right next to him.”

The gun was on the nightstand next to a silver-and-black lamp, an easy reach even in the darkness of night. “Maybe he drugged them? Drugged the food they ate before they came to bed? Slipped something in their drinks?” Her mind raced to make sense of the scene.

“I’ll have the crime scene guys come back and check everything that’s in the refrigerator to see if they find anything tainted by drugs.”

He remained standing at the foot of the bed, staring at the room as if in a trance. Georgina did nothing to break his focus. She knew this was part of his process, this concentration that he used in an effort to see the crime as it happened, to understand any clues that might have been left behind.

She wondered if he still had nightmares. If somebody was seeing to it that he ate right. She’d heard no rumors that he was dating anyone, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t. He’d had two years to move on, and two years was a long time for a man to be alone, especially a man as vital, as alive as Alexander.

“Were the lights on or off?” He finally broke his trance and turned to look at her. “Do you remember from the report if the lights in here were off or on when the first agents arrived on scene?”

She frowned thoughtfully, trying to picture the initial report. “Off,” she finally replied. “Jackson is a big man. If they were both somehow drugged, then how did our perp move their unconscious bodies from here to a waiting vehicle down the stairs and outside?”

Alexander looked closely at the carpeting around the bed where the covers trailed to the floor and then stepped out of the room and stared down the long hallway toward the staircase.

He turned back to Georgina, a deep frown cutting across his forehead. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe they weren’t drugged at all,” she said thoughtfully. “Maybe the perp just got the drop on them, appeared in the doorway with a gun pointed at Marjorie, making it impossible for Jackson to take a chance at grabbing his own gun.”

“Maybe,” he replied absently. “Let me take a look in the master bath to see if there’s anything there and then let’s get out of here.”

He disappeared into the bathroom and Georgina felt his pain, his worry for his friend resonating in her heart. He’d been given a huge job, made all the more important because his good friend was now one of the missing.

The Gilmer case had given him nightmares and thrown him into a black hole that she feared he would never climb out of. If he was unsuccessful on this case, she feared it would completely and utterly destroy him.

* * *

“IT’S SIX-THIRTY, you want to stop by Nettie’s and grab something to eat and talk about all the things we don’t know about this case?” he asked Georgina when they were back in the car and headed away from Jackson’s place. “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t eaten anything today except a bagel early this morning.”

She hesitated only a moment before replying. “Sure, Nettie’s sounds like a plan. Besides, if I say no, you probably won’t eat anything tonight.”

He smiled tightly. “I always did hate to eat alone.”

The restaurant was a favorite place for the FBI agents to grab meals as it was only a block away from the building where they all worked. The prices were reasonable, the portions generous and the food was delicious.

He tried to fight against the discouragement that attempted to work its way into his psyche. He’d hoped to find something at Jackson’s place, but given the fact that the other two crime scenes had yielded nothing in the way of clues, he shouldn’t be surprised that nothing had been found there, either.

Reminding himself that he’d had the case less than twenty-four hours, he wanted to eat and then take the files he had on the previous cases home to study them all again.

Before they’d all left the office, he’d told the team to be in the war room at seven the next morning, even though it was Saturday. Weekends and holidays would have no meaning at all until this case was solved.

The fact that nobody from the team had contacted him while he and Georgina had been gone meant none of them had anything to report. Hopefully by morning that would change.

They remained silent on the rest of the drive to the restaurant. He knew it was probably a mistake partnering himself with Georgina, given their history. He also knew how bright, how dedicated she was to the job, and that because of her knowledge of him and his habits, she’d make the perfect partner.

He pulled into the crowded parking lot. Nettie’s on a Friday night was busy, but he hoped that he and Georgina could grab a booth in the back where they could talk in relative privacy.

Nettie’s had an identity issue. While the food was more along the lines of home cooking, the interior was dim, with candles lit at each table as if it was pretending to be a fine-dining place.

Nettie greeted them at the door with a wide smile. “Two of my favorite agents,” she said. She was a testament to the good food she served. Short and wide with brassy red hair, it was rumored that she’d once scared away a young would-be thief by wielding a large wooden spoon and threatening to spank his ass clean off his body with it.

As Alexander had hoped, she led them to a booth in the back of the restaurant where the noise of the other diners was less audible and he and Georgina would be able to talk without shouting.

The moment they slid into the booth across from each other with the candlelight glowing on Georgina’s face, a sense of déjà vu struck him and brought with it a sense of loss he’d never quite recovered from.

They’d eaten out often during the early days of their marriage in places where candlelight had bathed her beauty in a golden glow. At those times her eyes had glimmered with a love that had showered him with warmth.

Now that glimmer was gone and in its place was the pleasant but focused gaze of professionalism. As it should be, he reminded himself.

The waitress arrived with menus and to take drink orders. Georgina went with a Cobb salad while he ordered a steak and baked potato. They each ordered a glass of wine.

“This is going to be a tough one,” Georgina said. “FBI agents in two different locations haven’t come up with any clues to help apprehend or identify a suspect.”

“True, but we possibly have something they didn’t have,” he replied.

“The note.”

“Exactly. If it’s the real deal, then we have the first communication from the unsub and I’m hoping it won’t be the last.”

She unfurled the cloth napkin to reveal her silverware and placed the napkin in her lap as the waitress arrived with their wine. “I don’t want to be negative, but you know it’s possible that note is from some crackpot, or that single note will be all we get from him,” she replied once the waitress had left the table.

“I know, but I’ve got a gut feeling that this guy is the real deal and at a place where he wants to crow about his victories.”

She smiled. “Rumor has it that your gut is rarely wrong. It will be interesting to see if he makes any more contact with us.”

They sipped their wine, falling into a silence that he’d often experienced when married to Georgina. She’d never been good at small talk, as if afraid she might somehow give away a piece of herself she could never get back.

“How’s life treating you?” he asked, perversely forcing the small talk issue while they waited for their meals to be delivered.

“Fine. I spend most of my time at work, which is how I like it.”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

She raised one of her dark eyebrows wryly. “I don’t have time to see anyone, and in any case I’m not looking for a relationship. What about you?”

He shook his head. “There’s nobody in my life. Like you, I work so much it’s hard to even think about starting a relationship with anyone.”

He didn’t say it aloud, but the truth was that the woman across the table from him had burned him so badly he had no interest in getting close to the fire ever again.

“I have a feeling we’re all going to be putting in a lot of hours with this one,” she said, deftly turning the subject back to work issues.

“I can’t help but think that somehow there’s a connection between the victims...the FBI agents who were taken. It has to be a connection beyond the fact that they were FBI agents—perhaps their specific expertise—otherwise why take Sam Connelly from Bachelor Moon? Why go all the way to Missouri to snatch Agent Amberly Caldwell and then come back here to take Jackson?”

“So, you believe the people who were taken with the agents weren’t just collateral damage?” she asked.

The conversation halted as the waitress appeared with their dinners. Alexander waited until she’d moved away once again and then replied, “They could be some sort of leverage. There’s no better way to get a man to talk than to threaten his wife or his child.”

“But, Sam was a retired agent. He hadn’t worked actively as an agent for some time,” Georgina reminded him.

“True, but he left the agency with the reputation of being one of the best profilers in the country.”

Georgina took a bite of her salad, a tiny frown of concentration dancing across her forehead. “Is it possible that somehow Sam, Jackson and Amberly all worked a case together?”

“Sam and Jackson might have worked together in the past, but I can’t imagine how Amberly figures in. She wouldn’t have been a part of any investigations that Sam and Jackson might have worked here in Louisiana.”

“Even peripherally?”

He gazed at her thoughtfully. “I don’t know. That’s definitely something we should check out. We need to find out about any cases Sam and Jackson might have worked together and how, if at all, Amberly might figure in.”

“Maybe Nicholas and Frank will have something for us tomorrow morning,” she said.

“The sooner the better,” he replied.

They fell quiet as they focused on their meals. Alexander found himself remembering all the silences that had filled the two years of their marriage.

For the first six months or so, Alexander hadn’t noticed it. Captivated by her passion, eager to share who he was as a man, what he wanted for their future, he’d talked enough for both of them. He’d been crazy in love with her and thought she’d felt the same.

It was only after she’d left that he realized the marriage had been a one-sided disaster. They were great in bed, they could talk late into the night about the cases they were working on, but when the conversation turned personal she grew silent.

He knew her parents were alive and that she had two older sisters, but she was estranged from all of them. She never told him what had caused the estrangement, in fact had told him she rarely thought about her family.

She knew everything about his childhood, but he knew nothing about hers. She’d been adept at changing the subject when the conversation got too personal and he’d been too crazy about her to mind.

When he’d decided to partner with her on this case, he’d thought he was choosing her because he knew her work ethic matched his own and he believed she was one of the brightest agents on the team.

Now, as he gazed at her across the candlelit table, he wondered if there wasn’t more to his decision. Perhaps he not only wanted her by his side to help in the investigation, but maybe he was also hoping that by spending more time with her, he would finally unlock the mystery of Georgina.

Chapter Three

Georgina awoke the next morning just after five-thirty, her mind already whirling with the horror of the nightmare that had plagued her for years.

The dream was always the same. She was in a dark, small space, her stomach growling with hunger as the scent of food drifted in the air. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t escape the dark place except by awakening.

Never one to linger in bed, by the time six o’clock arrived she was showered and dressed and in the kitchen waiting for the coffee to quit brewing.

She had thirty minutes to relax until she’d have to leave to get to the FBI offices by seven. Minutes later she sat at her table with a cup of the fresh brew in hand. As she played over the events of the day before, the last thing she could find was any kind of relaxation.

Already she felt tension riding her shoulders, a knot of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. It was bad enough that they had a complicated case where they didn’t even know if the kidnapped victims were dead or alive.

As the only woman on the task force, she felt extreme pressure to overachieve, to prove herself to be the best that she could be.

It didn’t help that Alexander had chosen to partner up with her. He reminded her of her biggest failure, not as an agent, but as a woman. She couldn’t imagine why he would make the choice he did when he could have partnered her with any other member of the task force.

She sipped her coffee and stared out the window to the tiny fenced-in backyard. She had bought this small house three months after her divorce. It had been a bargain buy, as the place had been on the market for two years.

The Realtor who had sold it to her had explained that the small size of the two-bedroom house made it unappealing to any couple planning for a family or any family looking for a home.

It was perfect for Georgina, who knew there would never be a man in her life again, who knew there would never be any children. The spare bedroom was now an office, and she’d done little to decorate other than buying utilitarian furniture and hanging a couple of cheap landscape pictures on the walls.

She took another drink of her coffee and thought of the seven missing people and the note that had been sent to headquarters. If it was real, then it held a hint of crowing, of an ego that needed to be heard.

She could only hope that the ego needed constant feeding and the perp would maintain contact. It was often through some sort of communication that they got clues and found leads to follow in difficult cases.

At exactly six-thirty she left her small house and headed into work. Although it was only a fifteen-minute drive, she’d rather be a little early than late.

As she drove, she carefully kept her thoughts away from Alex. She had no idea how the past two years might have changed him and didn’t want to remember the man he’d been when she’d walked out on him.

She’d have to walk a fine line to remain strictly on a partner level and not allow herself to fall into anything personal. She couldn’t emotionally afford to make a second mistake where he was concerned.

The Baton Rouge FBI field office was located in an unassuming two-story building nestled between a dry cleaning store and a bank. She drove around to the back of the building where there was a large parking lot and pulled into one of the empty spaces. She grabbed the file folder that had kept her up reading reports and looking at photos far too late the night before, and then left her car.

The sultry morning air pressed oppressively against her chest. Or was it just the anxiety of the case and the uncertainty of working closely with her ex-husband?

The bottom floor of the building was dedicated to computer rooms and bookkeeping; the basement held storage and a cafeteria. It was on the second floor that agents actively worked at their own desks.

This morning she passed by her neat and tidy desk to head down the hallway to the conference room that now housed the task force. The scent of fresh coffee greeted her as she stepped into the room, finding Alex and Nicholas Cutter already there.

A large coffeepot had been set up on a side table, along with several boxes of doughnuts. The cliché of law enforcement at all levels. But Georgina knew as well as anyone that the sugar rush of a doughnut and the caffeine of a hot cup of coffee often provided the energy needed to get through long hours.

She smiled at the two men as she entered and sat in the same chair she’d sat in the day before. While Nicholas looked energized and eager, Alex’s face wore the faint lines of fatigue. Like her, he’d probably been up most of the night going over the files of the previous kidnappings.

Before either of the two men had a chance to greet her, other members of the team began to arrive and soon the room was full. Once they’d all found seats, Alex eyed them with a weary resignation. “How many of you saw the news this morning that broke the story that a seven-man, one-woman task force had been formed to investigate the disappearances of FBI agents?”

“I saw it and I’d like to know who leaked it,” Frank said irritably. “We hadn’t had much publicity about these disappearances until now.”

“At least it didn’t list our names,” Jeff said.

“You know any reporter worth his salt will have our names by the end of the day,” Nicholas added.

“If I find out anyone in this room leaked anything to the press, I’ll have your job.” Alex’s voice didn’t hold a threat, but rather held a determined promise. “Now, let’s get to the updates.”

The first came from Tim and Jeff, who had spent the day before with both paper maps and working on the internet to locate vacant buildings that were isolated enough for seven people to be held captive.

“There’s dozens of places,” Tim said. “There are abandoned warehouses and old factories all over the surrounding areas and within the city.”

“We’re making a list of addresses and working through city records to find out owner names,” Jeff said. “But it’s going to take at least a week or two for us to get them all and even then there might be some places that slip through the cracks.”

“I’ll check with Director Miller and see if we can get some help from the local authorities to physically check out the places on the list you’re compiling,” Alexander said.

It wasn’t unusual for the FBI to occasionally work with the Baton Rouge Police Department when it came to a job too big for the agents to handle alone. The police would be able to cruise by the buildings and check them out in person, lightening the manpower needed for the actual footwork of the investigative end of things for the FBI.

Despite the tired lines that creased his forehead and made the small wrinkles around his eyes look deeper, Georgina couldn’t help but notice that Alex hadn’t changed much in the two years they’d been apart. His shoulders were just as broad, his stomach as flat and the air of command that emanated from him came naturally.

He was born to lead, and if it hadn’t been for the Gilmer case, he would have led most of the difficult investigations that had come along in the past couple of years. She knew he’d been asked to be lead in other cases but had declined, indicating a lack of faith in himself. She was glad he’d finally decided to step up once again.

There was no question that if she allowed it, she would be attracted to him again. All the qualities that she’d fallen in love with in the first place he still possessed. But she couldn’t allow it and besides, he’d given no indication that he wanted it.

Although there had been little change in him physically in the last two years, she had no idea what changes had occurred on the inside. The one thing she knew for sure was that nothing had changed her. She’d been wrong for him then and she’d be wrong for him again.

She tightened her fingers around the pen she held, telling herself it was vital she maintain her objectivity where he was concerned. Alex was nothing more than her partner, her immediate boss, and that’s the way it would stay for as long as they knew each other.

When Jeff and Tim had finished their report, Alex moved on to Nicholas and Frank. “We’ve got nothing,” Frank said, his brown eyes dark with frustration. “We went through social media, used Google on all the names of the missing people, used Google on the FBI agents, and nothing popped up to tie them together other than the fact that they are all agents.”

“Actually, I found something,” Nicholas said, a touch of smugness in his voice as his partner looked at him in obvious surprise. “There’s an author who has a new book out and the book includes sections about Sam Connelly, Amberly Caldwell and Jackson.”

A touch of new disdain swept through Georgina. It was obvious Nicholas had blindsided his partner, kept the information to himself so that he would get all the glory of the find. Nicholas Cutter was definitely not a team player and that was a big strike against him as far as Georgina was concerned.

“Continue,” Alexander’s voice was like a gunshot in the room.

“The author’s name is Michelle Davison and the book is titled Heinous Crimes / Men of Honor.” Nicholas sat up straighter in his chair, obviously pleased to be the center of attention. “She has a section about Sam Connelly, who was head investigator when four children were kidnapped and he successfully recovered them. Amberly Caldwell is showcased for her work on what was called the Dream Catcher murders in Mystic Lake. She also has the details of the case Jackson worked a year ago...the Twilight Killer.”

As much as Georgina hated Nicholas’s showboating, his information sent a rush of excitement through her. This was the first definitive tie they’d found among the three.

“Do we have an address for Michelle Davison?” Alexander asked.

“She lives in New Orleans, but I spoke to her literary agent last night and Michelle is set up to have a book signing right here at the Baton Rouge College bookstore at seven tonight,” Nicholas said.

“Georgina and I will attend the book signing and do an initial interview with her,” Alexander said, ignoring how Nicholas’s smile fell into a pouty frown. He’d obviously hoped to do the interview himself.

One of the agents had moved a box of doughnuts into the center of the table and Frank reached for one. “I don’t see how a woman writer could have anything to do with kidnapping seven people. There’s no way I believe we’re dealing with a female perp.” He took a bite of his doughnut and grabbed a napkin as raspberry filling fell down his chin.

“We all have to keep an open mind,” Nicholas said. “At this point we can’t know if the perp is male or female or even a team. We just don’t have enough information to make that call.”

“That’s right,” Alex answered. “Matt and Terry, anything new on your end?”

“Not yet,” Matt replied. “But we’re digging for anything we can find.”

As he continued to reaffirm assignments for the day, Georgina was already eager for the night to come. This was their first real lead and she couldn’t wait for them to follow it.

“Nicholas, get me everything you can on Michelle Davison by noon. Frank, continue to look for other connections between the missing people. Georgina, you and I are going to get the files of the cases that this author showcased in her book and see if we can figure out exactly why she chose these particular cases, these particular agents to write about.”

Georgina nodded. Catching a killer was rarely like it was shown on television, with high-speed chases and shoot-outs in dark alleys.

So much of the work to catch a killer took place in chairs, researching the victims’ lives, going through reports until you were nearly blind, searching the web for something, anything, that might burp up a clue.

Granted, they didn’t know if this particular unsub was a killer or not, but he or she was definitely a serial kidnapper and these cases would be investigated as if they were chasing a killer.

Her gaze drifted up to the bulletin board where the victims’ photos remained. Her focus was drawn to the little girl who had vanished with her parents.

Of all the people showcased on the board, Macy Connelly would be the most expendable. The seven-year-old would be of no use to the kidnapper, especially a kidnapper who claimed to be an FBI-trained serial killer.

Georgina had always loved children, but even when she’d been married she had never envisioned having any of her own. She knew what she was capable of giving and it had never been enough to be a mother.

Still, there was something that haunted her about Macy Connelly, an emotion that skewered deep into her soul. It was as if Macy might have been the daughter she and Alex would have had if Georgina had been different, if she had been whole.

She could only hope and pray that they could solve this case before something tragic happened to the agents and their spouses, before something tragic happened to the blond-haired, blue-eyed little angel who appeared to be personally pleading with Georgina for help.

* * *

THAT EVENING AT SIX-THIRTY when Alexander pulled into Georgina’s driveway and she stepped out on the porch, he was immediately sorry that he’d told her not to dress like an FBI agent, but rather as a woman attending a social function.

She walked toward the car clad in a short, green dress that he recognized as the dress she’d worn on their second date. The only difference was that she’d added a gold belt around the fitted waist.

Didn’t she buy new clothes? Did she even remember that the green dress had been one of his favorites? Probably not. Georgina wasn’t particularly sentimental. She was pragmatic and dealt only in the present. In the brief time he’d been her husband he’d realized she didn’t dwell on the past and she rarely looked to the future. She was always in the here and now, and there had been times during their marriage it had made him slightly crazy.

She opened the passenger door and slid in, gold hoop earrings dancing on her ears as the familiar scent of her perfume filled the air. She exuded a thrumming energy as she greeted him and then buckled her seat belt.

“You look nice,” he said as he backed out of her driveway.

“Thanks, so do you.”

He didn’t look all that different from what he looked like every day. The only difference was his black slacks were paired with a black-and-blue pin-striped shirt instead of the regular white dress shirt. His blazer was the same one that had been slung across the back of a chair for most of the day.

“I’m so excited,” she continued. “We’ve only been at it for a day and already a lead has come to light.”

“We don’t know how good this lead might be,” he replied in an attempt to temper her enthusiasm. “The odds that we’re going to solve these crimes tonight by attending a college bookstore autographing session are pretty minimal.”

“True, but at least it’s a place to start.” She shifted positions to face him more fully. “We’ll solve this one, Alex. We’ll solve it and save every single one of those people.”

The diminutive use of his name felt both familiar and intimate and he shoved away the wave of warmth that suffused him as he heard it. She was the only person in his life who had called him Alex. Both professionally and personally he’d always been Alexander.

“We’re a long way from a solve, but I hope your optimism plays out,” he said gruffly.

Damn her green dress and her use of Alex. The last thing he needed was to get lost in memories, in questions from the past that would splinter his attention. He needed to remain focused on the case and nothing else.

The Baton Rouge College campus was both huge and beautiful. Stately stone buildings were linked together by tree-lined sidewalks, and courtyards with benches invited students to gather for impromptu study sessions or social activities.

The bookstore was along a side street, and Alexander was surprised to discover the parking lot next to it full. He found an open curbside space about a block away and he and Georgina got out of the car to walk in the sultry evening air. “Feels more like early August than September,” Alexander said.

“It is warm. Looks like she’s drawn quite a crowd,” Georgina said.

“Murder and mayhem always sell well,” Alexander replied with a touch of disgust.

Georgina shot him a quick smile. “You can’t blame people for being interested in the same things we are. If the readers who buy these kinds of books are freaks, then that makes you and me super freaks.”

Alexander laughed, knowing that she was right. Neither of them would be where they were if they weren’t drawn to the dark side of humanity.

He fought the impulse to place his hand at the center of her back as they walked side by side, as he used to do. It had always been a proprietary touch and he hadn’t had that right for two years.

Focus, he thought as they entered the door to the busy bookstore. This job was his chance to stanch the nightmares of failure that played over and over again in his head. He was haunted by a single dead young woman; he couldn’t imagine seven people haunting him if he didn’t get this job done right.

Alexander estimated Michelle Davison to be in her mid-thirties. She was an attractive blonde with blue eyes and appeared to be greeting her fans with genuine warmth and friendliness.

There was a long line before her, and as he and Georgina fell into the line, he also noted the man who stood just behind the table where Michelle sat.

Tall and muscular, although he was neatly dressed in slacks and a short-sleeved white shirt, he looked like a thug. A tattoo rode the side of his neck and others crept up his muscled arms. Boyfriend? Bodyguard? Partner in crime?

Alexander couldn’t help the suppositions that raced through his mind. His plan was to buy a book, chat like a customer and then once the signing was over have a more in-depth discussion with the author.

“I didn’t expect this kind of crowd,” he said, leaning closer to Georgina.

“I checked her out before you picked me up. This is her fifth crime book and she’s grown quite popular,” Georgina replied. “You think the guy behind her is her agent?” she asked dryly.

Alexander flashed a tight smile. “I’ve heard that literary agents are tough, especially those from New York City.”

A small laugh escaped Georgina and the sound pooled warmth in the pit of his stomach. It had been over two years since he’d heard the sound of her husky laugh.

He averted his gaze from her and instead focused on the other people inside the store. It was possible the very man they sought was right here in the room, eager to buy a book about the people he’d kidnapped.

Or perhaps Michelle took her research to a whole new level and she and the mountain man behind her were responsible for the disappearances of the FBI agents. It would make one hell of a publicity stunt.

His stomach knotted. Could that be what this was all about? Surely not. He hadn’t seen any publicity concerning the missing FBI agents and the book that was being sold. The various departments involved had been playing the details of each case close to their vests.

As far as Alexander knew, no reporter had tied them all together to come up with a serial kidnapper at work. Until this morning, when it was reported that a task force had been formed. He’d like to get his hands around the neck of whoever had leaked that information.

He glanced at Georgina and noticed that she was perusing the crowd with narrowed eyes. She was probably thinking the same thing he was, that the perp might very well be right here in this room, eager to buy a book about the people he held captive. Hopefully the author they were about to meet would have some answers.

He breathed a sigh of relief as finally there was only one person in line before they’d be at the author’s table.

“Professor Tanner,” Michelle greeted the man in front of them warmly. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Now, how could I miss such a special event for one of my best students?” the tall, well-built man replied.

“You’re part of the reason I’m where I am,” Michelle said as she signed a book for him. “Your classes were always so fascinating.”

“Thank you. Let’s hope there continue to be plenty of students who enjoy my classes.” He took the book she’d signed for him and then Alexander and Georgina stood before the author’s table.

“Hello, would one or both of you like a book autographed?” Michelle asked with a bright smile.

“I’d like one,” Georgina said. “You can just sign it to Georgina.”

“And we’d both like to have a little chat with you when this is all over this evening.” Alexander pulled his official identification from his pocket and placed it on the table. To hell with the idea of pretending to be a fan, he thought. He just wanted to cut to the chase.

Michelle looked at it and then at him with a faint alarm on her pretty features. Alexander quickly tucked his identification away.

“Can we talk someplace other than here?” she asked. “I’d rather not have any of my readers know that the FBI is questioning me about anything.”

“There’s a coffee shop about three blocks from here at the corner of Magnolia and Mission Road,” he said.

She nodded. “I know the place.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “I’ll be here for another half an hour or so. Shall we meet there in about an hour?”

She appeared curious and a bit apprehensive, but not particularly scared or guilty. Alexander was eager to question her and find out what, if any, role she might have played in the crimes. “Make sure you’re there. Otherwise we’ll find you someplace where it might be less private.”

“I’ll be there,” she replied, her lips morphing into a thin line as she turned her attention to Georgina. “Did you really want a book?”

“Yes.”

Michelle quickly signed the book and handed it to Georgina. “I hope you enjoy it,” she said as if by rote.

The two of them left the table, paid for the book and then exited the still-busy bookstore. It wasn’t until they were back in Alexander’s car and headed to the coffee shop that Georgina spoke.

“So, thoughts?” she asked.

“I have several. My first thought is what a great publicity stunt it would be for the three agents she wrote about in her book to suddenly go missing.”

He felt Georgina’s gaze lingering on him, could almost hear the wheels churning in her head. “It would be a great publicity stunt, but there’s been nothing in the news until this morning to let people know that we’ve determined that the missing FBI agents are tied together.”

“Odd, though, that the news broke on the morning of her book signing.” He glanced over to her, noting how pretty she looked in the faint glow of the dashboard lights.

“Odd, or coincidental,” she agreed. “Nobody in the crowd caught my eye as looking particularly suspicious. Even Michelle didn’t look overly worried or guilty when you showed her your identification and said we needed to talk to her.”

“I guess we’ll have a better feel for her after questioning her,” he replied as they pulled up in front of the coffee shop.

They grabbed one of the tall tables in the back where they would have a little more privacy, although there were few people in the place. Most of the college students would frequent the coffee shop throughout the day, but on a Saturday night they would all have better places to be.

“Sit tight. I’ll go get us some coffee,” he said. She sat on one of the tall stools and opened the book she’d bought as he headed for the counter.

“I’d like a medium black coffee and a medium caffe mocha, hold the whipped cream.” He was vaguely surprised that what had been Georgina’s favorite drink rolled effortlessly off his tongue after all this time. He wasn’t even sure if she still drank what he’d just ordered for her.

He paid for the drinks and grabbed them, and as he turned to face her, he immediately knew something was horribly wrong. She had her cell phone at her ear.

Her face was the pale shade of death, but her eyes were huge and darted at him frantically. He raced to the table at the same time she set her cell phone down with a hand that visibly shook.

“Georgina, what happened? Who was on the phone?” He set the cups down and reached for her hand. Her icy-cold fingers grabbed onto his and held tight.

“It was him.” Her voice whispered from her. “He said he was the person we were hunting.” She drew a deep breath, some of the color returning to her cheeks as she disengaged her hand from his and instead curled her fingers around the warm cup in front of her.

“Are you sure it wasn’t some sort of a prank phone call?” he asked.

Her green eyes held a faint tinge of fear as she slowly shook her head. “He said he’d be in touch again and that Macy told me to get a good night’s sleep, that I was going to need my rest if I was going to save her.”

Myriad emotions rose up inside Alexander, questions about if the call had really come from the man they sought and when he might make contact again. More importantly, why out of all the task force members had he connected with Georgina? His stomach clenched tight.

Did this mean that Georgina was in danger?

Chapter Four

Georgina took a drink in an effort to warm the cold that had gripped her insides the minute she’d heard “his” voice on the phone.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Alex asked, his handsome features fraught with concern.

“I’m fine. It was just such a shock.” She took another drink of her coffee, subconsciously noting that Alex had ordered her favorite. But even the comfort of the familiar drink couldn’t chase away the horror that still held her in its grip.

“What did his voice sound like? Young? Old? Any accent that you could discern?” Alex asked. He leaned toward her, as if he wanted to wrap her in his arms, and for just a brief moment she wished he would.

She remembered far too well how it had felt to be cradled in Alex’s arms...the sense of safety, of security she had found there.

Instead she stared down into her cup and then looked back at him. “It wasn’t his real voice. He obviously was using some kind of voice-altering equipment. Still, I know it sounds crazy, but I feel like I’ve been touched by pure evil.”

She straightened her shoulders and drew a deep, steadying breath. She couldn’t allow herself to get spooked by a single phone call—Alex would pull her off the case if she appeared that weak.

“What did your caller identification show?” Alex asked. She was pleased his voice held no sympathy, no coddling tone.

“Unknown caller,” she replied, also glad that her voice held no sense of the cold turmoil inside her. “He probably made the call from a throwaway phone. He’s too smart to allow himself to be traced.” She paused a moment. “If it really was him, then why me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because you’re the only woman on the team?”

“How would he even know that I’m on the team? The article this morning didn’t mention any names.”

“I don’t have any answers for you right now,” Alex replied, his voice deep and his eyes fierce as he held her gaze. “But I promise you that by tomorrow we’ll have some. If there’s a leak in the department, I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

She saw the depth of anger simmering in his beautiful eyes and would hate to be the person on the receiving end of that ire.

“We can’t know for sure that it was really the perp who made the call,” he said thoughtfully. He took a drink of his coffee and set the cup back down. “There were plenty of news reports out of Bachelor Moon when Sam and his wife and little Macy went missing. The call could have just come from some creep.”

“Creeps don’t generally know my phone number,” she replied dryly.

“We’ll figure it all out,” he said in an obvious effort to soothe, but she knew it was more likely than not that they wouldn’t learn how he had gotten her phone number.

They fell silent for the next few minutes. She sipped her drink while Alex slugged down his coffee and got up to order himself another one. She had a feeling it would be a sleepless night for him as well as for her.

Macy. Why had the caller mentioned the little girl who had already found purchase in Georgina’s heart? Perhaps he had just reasoned that since she was a woman, the child would be the best way to get to her. What a calculating creep.

By the time Alex returned to the table, Michelle and the man who had stood behind her at the autographing table walked through the door.

The big bruiser had his arm around Michelle and a scowl on his face that indicated he was definitely not pleased to be here. “Why would the FBI want to talk to Michelle?” he asked as the two of them reached the table where Georgina and Alex were seated.

“Maybe you’re the one we need to talk to,” Alex countered as he stood.

Georgina released a sigh. She’d already had enough drama for one night. She didn’t need a macho showdown between the two men. “Why don’t we all sit down and we’ll explain exactly what brought Michelle to our attention.”

Michelle took the stool next to Georgina. “I already know why you want to talk to me. This overly protective brute is my boyfriend, Jax White. Sit down, Jax, and let them ask their questions.”

Jax took a seat as Alex returned to his. “I know the people I wrote about in my book are missing,” Michelle said. “But that’s all I know about the situation.”

“So the kidnapping of these agents isn’t part of a publicity stunt to sell more books?” Alex asked.

Michelle shot him a derisive look. “I don’t subscribe to the ‘Any publicity is good publicity’ theory.”

As Alex questioned Michelle further, Georgina tried to put the phone call out of her head and instead get a read on the woman and man seated at the table with them.

“I have some contacts in the agency,” Michelle said, “and they pointed me to Sam Connelly, Amberly Caldwell and Jackson Revannaugh as three of the best profilers who had all recently solved fairly high-profile cases. I decided to showcase them in the book as some of the best of the best when it comes to catching killers.”

“And exactly how did you do your research?” Georgina asked.

“She sure as hell didn’t kidnap the agents,” Jax exclaimed in obvious irritation.

Michelle ignored his outburst. “Unfortunately none of the agents would grant me interviews, so I did my research the hard way—by getting files on the cases they’d worked, by reading every article and news item I could find. I traveled to Mystic Lake and here to Baton Rouge to talk to some of the people who were involved with the crimes. I talked to the people in the towns, friends of the missing people. I also tried to talk to friends of the FBI agents. Unfortunately they all refused to talk to me.”

Her chin rose defensively. “I worked hard to write the stories of heroes and the criminals that they caught. I saw in the paper this morning that a task force had been formed to deal with the case of the missing FBI agents. I knew you’d be coming to question me, but I can’t help you. I don’t know what happened to them. I can’t help you in any way in your investigation.”

Jax stood and placed an arm around Michelle’s shoulder. “Are we through here?”

“One more question...where were the two of you four nights ago?” Alex asked.

“At my home in New Orleans,” Michelle answered without hesitation. She exchanged a glance with Jax.

“Do the two of you live together?” Georgina asked.

Michelle hesitated a beat before replying. “No, but Jax spends most nights at my place. I’m sure he was with me four nights ago.”

Jax squeezed her shoulder. “And now I think we’re through here.” Michelle rose as if his hand on her shoulder was a magical wand that lifted her off the stool.

“Where can we reach you if we need to ask you more questions?” Alex asked.

“I’m leaving tomorrow on a book tour. If you’ll give me your email or fax number I’ll have my agent send you my itinerary,” Michelle said.

Alex pulled a card from his pocket. “My cell phone and email is there. If I don’t get that itinerary from your agent by noon tomorrow, then we’re going to have problems.”

Michelle nodded and the two of them left the coffee shop.

“Want another coffee?” Alex asked.

“No thanks. I think I’m ready to call it a day.” She knew they’d talk about this little interview in the car, but once the author and her boyfriend had disappeared from sight, the phone call Georgina had received filled her head once again.

Minutes later they were in Alex’s car and headed toward her house. “I feel inclined to do a little background check on Mr. Jax White,” Alex said.

“Probably wouldn’t hurt,” she agreed. “There was just a moment when Michelle said that Jax was with her on the night that Jackson and Marjorie disappeared that I didn’t quite believe her.”

“Maybe he decided to help his lover get a little extra publicity with her book,” Alex said. “He’s big enough to carry bodies over his shoulders and he looks like a man who might have a record.”

“And he knew I was an FBI agent and had time before they met us here to make that phone call.” Her stomach ached as she thought of the call.

They spoke no more until he pulled into her driveway. He cut the engine, turned out the car lights and then looked at her, his features visible in the streetlight next to her driveway.

“You want me to take your cell phone?” he asked.

She frowned at him in surprise. “Why would I want you to do that?”

“In case he calls again...so you don’t have to deal with it.”

“If he calls again it’s because for some reason he wants to talk to me. You can’t protect me, Alex. I can handle this. I’m fine.”

She saw the frown that shot across his brow. “You’re always so damn strong, Georgina. You never need anyone.”

She drew in a breath. “Are we talking about a phone call or are we discussing personal history?”

Leaning his head back, he raked a hand through his thick dark hair. “I don’t know, maybe a little of both,” he admitted.

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