Untold Page 13

  “Yes, we do.”

  “But, things happen as they are meant to,” Cassidy said. “I trust Dylan. He’s got a good head on his shoulders. He’s responsible, and he certainly knows what it is like to have babies around 24/7.”

  “True.”

  “I would hate for anything to change his trajectory. I also know that he has his own path. He loves Maggie. That much I do know.”

  “Young love doesn’t always last,” Rose reminded Cassidy.

  “No. It doesn’t make it any less real.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” Rose agreed.

  “So? Are you still going away with Dad next week?” Cassidy changed the subject.

  Rose smiled. “That’s the plan.”

  Cassidy nodded. She often wondered when her parents would finally cross the bridge and get back together. That had yet to happen. Her mother and Alex’s mother shared a three-bedroom ranch house on the other side of town. Cassidy’s father had settled into a condominium a few towns over. The affection and love that existed between her parents were evident to everyone who saw them together. But, Rose had made no move to invite her husband back into her life full-time, and Cassidy was positive her father had never made any overture either. They spent time together; they even took trips together; they never discussed the context of their relationship, and they never sought to make it a formal commitment. Jim McCollum had been gone for over twenty years. He had broken Rose’s heart. Broken hearts took time to mend. Broken trust was even harder to repair.

  “Mom?”

  “Hum?”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you love Dad?”

  Rose smiled, but Cassidy could plainly see the sadness in her eyes. “With all my heart.”

  “But, you still don’t trust him.”

  “I trust him,” Rose said, surprising Cassidy. “Cassie, I’ve learned to live my life a certain way. I like it that way. I’ve made room for him; I am not going to give him the entire space.”

  Cassidy nodded.

  “What brought this on?” Rose wondered.

  “Claire.”

  “Claire?”

  “Yeah,” Cassidy said.

  “Want to explain?”

  “I worry about her.”

  “What’s going on with her and Hawk?” Rose asked.

  Cassidy sighed. Charlie Hawkins, Hawk as everyone called her, was Alex’s former NSA partner. She was also Alex’s former partner in life. It had been a brief romantic relationship, but Cassidy knew that it had meant something to both Alex and Hawk. Hawk and Claire had fallen for each other fast and hard. Their relationship, like everything in Claire’s life, had been tumultuous—on again, off again. Cassidy was positive that Hawk desired a commitment from Claire. Commitment was a concept that Claire struggled with. She feared it. More than Claire feared Hawk would betray her; Claire worried that somehow, she would fail Hawk. Cassidy knew that.

  “I’m not sure,” Cassidy admitted. “I know that they couldn’t both stay in DC. Hawk is an assistant director now.”

  “Can’t one of them leave the FBI?”

  “I’m sure they could. I don’t think Hawk would do that without Claire making some kind of long-term commitment.”

  “You think Hawk wants to marry Claire?”

  “I don’t know. I think she wants more. That’s hard for Claire. She carries a lot of guilt.”

  Rose nodded. “Some of that she earned,” she reminded Cassidy.

  Cassidy grimaced. “It’s time to let it go, Mom.”

  “Honestly, Cassie. I know you have this affinity for Claire. You feel empathy for her…”

  “It’s not just empathy, Mom.”

  “I know,” Rose confessed.

  “I just wish she would let herself be herself.”

  “Well, if anyone is going to reach her, it’ll be you.”

  “I’m not sure about that.”

  “I am,” Rose said. “How is Alex doing with Claire?”

  Cassidy laughed. Alex had an affinity, as Rose put it for Claire. Cassidy could see it clear as day. Alex was skeptical of Claire’s motives, and she worried about Claire’s potential reaction in situations. Cassidy couldn’t blame Alex for that. But, Cassidy knew Alex better than anyone. Alex often would chuckle quietly at something Claire said, and Cassidy had observed that Alex listened attentively to Claire when she spoke.

  “Better than she expected, I think,” Cassidy replied.

  “Worried about them too?”

  Cassidy smiled and replied honestly. “Not at all.”

  ***

  “Shit,” Jared tumbled and hit the ground.

  Darren turned back to his friend. “What the hell did you step on?” he asked.

  Jared grabbed his ankle. “I just sunk,” he pointed to a small patch of earth.

  “Right,” Darren laughed. “The sinkhole swallowed you.”

  “It did!” Jared replied. “Look at my foot.”

  Darren groaned. Jared’s sneaker was covered in mud. Worse, Jared was in pain. Darren threw his backpack on the ground and moved to help his friend up. “Can you stand?”

  “Yeah. Walking might be a bitch, though.”

  Darren went to hold out his hand and his foot sank into the earth. He pulled his foot up and turned to look at the hole as it gave way. He jumped backward and fell into Jared.

  “What the hell?” Jared pushed his friend aside.

  Darren pointed to the hole his foot had left.

  “What?” Jared asked. “You’ve been watching too many horror movies.”

  Darren shook his head. “Look.”

  Jared jostled himself forward and strained to see what Darren was pointing at. His face promptly drained of all color. He turned and lost the contents of his stomach. “Jesus.”

  Darren fought the urge to follow his friend’s lead. “I think we’d better call someone.”

  ***

  “Agent Brackett,” a young man’s voice pulled Claire from her thoughts. She held up a finger.

  “Are you sure?” she asked the person on the other end of the phone. “We’ll pick you up,” she said. She turned to the agent facing her. “Agent Jensen,” she greeted him.

  “A call just came in from Detective Siminski looking for you or Agent Toles. Says he couldn’t reach either of you.”

  Claire guessed that Alex had stepped out to call Jane. “Did he say what he wanted?”

  Agent Jensen nodded. “They found a body.”

  Claire nodded. “I’ll call him. Thanks.” Shit. Claire lifted her phone. “Siminski.”

  “Agent Brackett. Is Alex with you?”

  “She stepped out for a minute. More skeletons, I understand?”

  Siminski groaned. “I wish.”

  “What do you mean? Jensen just said you dug something up?”

  “Not exactly. More like some kids tripped over it.”

  “Tripped over…”

  “A body,” Siminski explained. “And, she hasn’t been there long.”

  “Where?”

  “About ¾ of a mile from where we’ve been digging.”

  Claire sighed. “We’re on our way.” Shit. Claire started back toward the small conference room that Alex had taken over.

  “Hey,” Alex stopped her. “Did you get Donovan?” she asked. Claire nodded. “What?” Alex asked. “Did he give you a hard time?”

  “No. Alex,” Claire began, “Siminski just called. They found a body in the woods. This one has a little more meat on her bones.”

  Alex groaned. “Fuck. How long…”

  “He didn’t say. From what I gathered, she hasn’t been there too long at all.”

  “He’s changing the game,” Alex observed.

  “If it is him. He didn’t say how she ended up there.”

  Alex stared blankly at Claire.

  “Okay,” Claire held up her hand in surrender. “I get it. Guess, we won’t need those pictures now.”

  “I wouldn’t
count on that.”

  ***

  Alex squatted beside the huddled form in the dirt. She lifted the young woman’s arm and grimaced at the bruises on her wrists. Her eyes traveled down the torso, noting the splotches of dried blood. Fucking bastard. She could hear Claire’s voice in the background, and she made a point to hone in on the discussion even as her eyes remained glued to the scene in front of her.

  “Nothing else?” Claire asked.

  “No,” Siminski replied. “We might never have found her if those kids hadn’t been so damned nosy.”

  Claire glanced over at Alex. “We’d have found her,” Claire disagreed.

  “Not any time soon,” Siminski commented.

  Alex made her way to her feet and exchanged a knowing glance with Claire.

  “What aren’t you two saying?” Siminski asked.

  “What’s to say?” Claire asked. “Dead girl. Stab wounds, clearly restrained against her will, naked in the dirt. That’s the story here,” she said. “Did I miss anything?”

  For once, Alex was inclined to agree with the blunt assessment of her partner. Siminski was a great detective. He was a knowledgeable investigator. He was not a profiler. While profiler was not technically listed on Claire’s resume, Claire was every bit as capable as Alex in designing a profile of a killer. Both Alex and Claire had been trained in a different world than the FBI. In the world of international spying, every agent needed to be a profiler. The spy world required skills beyond following facts, evidence, and clues. Survival demanded that an agent be superior at contemplating his or her adversaries’ next move. The world that Alex and Claire had traversed for many years was not dictated by a game of cat and mouse. It was a ruthless world, where danger lurked not only in dark corners, but in the stark light of day. Claire’s rebuttal was a flat assessment that this discovery gave them no more evidence than they already had, and at the same time, it changed the course of the investigation completely.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Siminski looked at Alex.

  “It means we won’t know much new until we find out who she is. The silver lining is that we have a good chance of finding that out and quickly. Someone is missing her.”

  “You hope,” Siminski replied. “Come on, Alex. You know better than anyone that serial killers tend to target faceless people; the people no one pays attention to.”

  Alex nodded. “True.”

  Claire looked at the woman on the ground. “Problem is, everyone has a face,” Claire said. She looked back at Siminski. “Everyone.”

  “You know what I meant,” he said.

  “Agent Brackett is right,” Alex said. “No one is faceless in the end. And, someone is always paying attention. The question is always who that is.” She looked at Claire. “He’s making a turn,” she surmised. Claire nodded her understanding.

  “What the hell are you two talking about?” Siminski bit in frustration.

  Claire met his gaze. “He dropped the Peters’ girl in New York to throw you off—to throw us off this place.”

  “Yeah? So, why come back?” he asked.

  “Because he’s compelled to,” Alex said. She squatted beside the victim again. “Look,” Alex said. She pointed to the small red dots on the girl’s eyelids.

  Claire leaned in. “Fuck.”

  “She was strangled,” Alex surmised.

  “And?” Siminski said. “M.E. said Peters might’ve been dead before he finished stabbing her, and that other girl was strangled.”

  “Yeah, but there’s no evidence of that in the third victim,” Alex reminded him.

  “Maybe they aren’t all the same killer,” Siminski offered.

  “And maybe I can solve a problem like Maria,” Claire rolled her eyes.

  Alex bit back a laugh. “Maybe.” She looked back at the body next to her and stood. “Let’s hope you’re wrong.”

  “Why?” Siminski asked.

  Claire laughed. “Even I’m not that masochistic,” she joked.

  “What?” he asked.

  “One sadistic psychopath is enough,” Alex said. “Let’s hope that’s what we are dealing with.” Let’s hope.

  ***

  “What’s up with you?” Alex asked Claire.

  “What?”

  “You took that call earlier and you haven’t said a word since.”

  Claire looked out the passenger window.

  “Claire?”

  “It was Hawk.”

  Alex looked back at the road. She wasn’t expecting that answer, and she wasn’t sure how to proceed with the conversation. She wasn’t sure she should proceed at all. Hawk was Alex’s friend and Alex’s former lover. It was awkward. Made more awkward by the fact that Alex had also slept with Claire a few times before she’d met Cassidy. She’d regretted that for years; not for the reasons she knew most people would have guessed.

  “She’s getting in tonight.”

  “To New York?” Alex asked.

  Claire nodded.

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “I don’t know,” Claire answered. “I told her that things in the case had taken a turn.”

  Alex was curious, but she was reluctant to push.

  “She has an offer back at the NSA,” Claire offered.

  Alex understood. “In the New York office?” she asked. Claire nodded. “And, that’s why you are here now.”

  “Partly.”

  “She loves you,” Alex said.

  “I know.”

  Alex took a deep breath. Cassidy would want you to ask. “Do you love her?” Alex asked. Claire sighed. “Claire?”

  “You know how I love,” Claire tried to joke.

  Alex groaned. “Why do you always do that?”

  “What? Tell the truth?”

  Alex shook her head. “I give up.”

  Claire looked back out the window. Cassidy would want you to answer. “I do love her.”

  Alex was taken by surprise by Claire’s answer.

  “What?” Claire chuckled. “You think I’m a monster.”

  “No,” Alex replied. “I don’t. I think the asshole who dumped those women in the woods is a monster. I think you’re scared.”

  Claire’s gaze retreated out the window yet again. “You’re the profiler.”

  Alex decided to let Claire off the hook. “So? What do you think about this new development?” she asked Claire.

  “You mean my girlfriend wanting a commitment or do you mean psycho stabber?”

  Alex couldn’t help but chuckle. “Either.”

  Claire smirked. “I think he got bored.”

  “I agree.”

  “Really?”

  “Why does that surprise you?” Alex asked.

  “That you agree with me?” Claire asked. She laughed. “I’ve never been one to believe in miracles.”

  Alex laughed. “Praise God,” she said.

  Claire laughed. “Alex,” she turned serious. “He’s going to up the ante.”

  “I know.”

  “I hope we can get that girl identified quickly,” Claire said.

  Alex detected the note of genuine concern in Claire’s voice. She glanced across the seat briefly. Claire was looking out the window. Alex could make out the faint creases in the younger woman’s forehead. Alex had long understood that Claire loved Eleana. She had accepted the truth that Claire cared deeply about Cassidy. She’d even allowed for the fact that Claire had feelings for Hawk. A stranger? Alex had never entertained the idea that Claire Brackett had the potential to feel empathy for a stranger. She looked back at the road. I’ll be damned. Claire did care. A barrage of images passed through Alex’s brain quickly. Claire had been affected by this case. It resonated with her on some level. Maybe it surfaced some of her latent guilt. Perhaps is conjured old memories. Alex felt sure both of those things were true. There was something more than that at work—empathy.

  “I’m going to work on speeding up the process,” Alex told her partner. “We need to know who these women are;
where they came from.”

  Claire looked over at her, instinctively understanding her meaning. “Going outside the bureau?”

  “Whatever it takes,” Alex said.

  ***

  “Hey,” Cassidy answered her phone.

  “Hi.”

  “Oh, no. What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not going to be home tonight,” Alex said.

  Cassidy took a deep breath. “Everything okay?”

  “No. We found another girl in the woods.”

  “Oh, Alex…”

  “I’m on my way to Natick.”

  “Pip?” Cassidy guessed.

  “Yeah.”

  “He’ll be glad to see you,” Cassidy said. Cassidy had known Jonathan Krause since college; long before she had met Alex. She had nicknamed him Pip after the protagonist in Dickens’ Great Expectations. Years later, the name still stuck. Alex had not had much of a chance to visit with her older brother for a few months. They spoke often, but Cassidy was certain that Alex missed time with him.

  “I know,” Alex replied. “I hate going to him with this,” Alex confessed.

  “Alex, he’s your brother. You could go to him for anything; you know that.”

  “It’s not that.”

  Cassidy took a deep breath. Jonathan Krause operated outside the overview of any government agency. “Is there another way?”

  “Yes,” Alex admitted. “We can wait for the system to do its job. Those wheels are already in motion, combing through missing person’s reports, looking at photos, an autopsy, DNA, the whole drill.”

  “But…”

  “But, that all takes time—a lot of time sometimes. I don’t have time.”

  “Then you should do what you feel is best,” Cassidy said.

  “I’m not sure where it will lead.”

  Cassidy understood Alex’s statement. She was also certain that the real reason Alex was headed to see her older brother had to do with her concerns about Dylan. Could Christopher O’Brien have toyed somehow with Dylan’s mind? The possibilities and realities remained difficult for Cassidy to accept. Most people regarded mind control and conspiracy theories as the ramblings of nut jobs. Unfortunately, Cassidy had learned that even the craziest ideas were many times rooted in some nugget of truth. She also knew that Alex couldn’t promise when she would be home. It had been years since Cassidy had confronted this reality—Alex leaving on a moment’s notice. During those years, Alex’s absences had been frequent. Cassidy seldom knew where Alex had gone or when she would return—if she would return. She felt a familiar wave of apprehension send shivers up her spine.