Relatively Rainey (11 page)

Rainey wasn’t about to cross the blue line without an invitation.

“If it is relevant to the missing person investigation, you should give that department the information.”

Wendy pled her case, undeterred by Rainey’s reluctance.

“The thing is, I think there may be something real shady going on, but I’m not sure. It could be some urban myth, taking on a life of its own. I don’t want to look like an idiot if that is true.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I think it could be connected to the two bodies they pulled out of that drainage pond.”

“Oh, now it’s getting more out of bounds,” Rainey said, shaking her head. “This is the same pond with a body related to my case. You know I can’t go anywhere near that investigation.”

Seemingly as determined as Rainey had been in her younger days, Wendy would not take no for an answer.

“Rainey, you and I both know that case is not related to those teenagers’ bodies.”

“Until that is a proven fact, I’m not on that case, nowhere near it. They hired another consultant to work with the investigators.”

Rainey thought that would settle the discussion, but she was wrong. Wendy was not above pulling the sister card.

“I would think that if a little sister felt strongly enough about something, a good big sister would trust her and ask how could she help.”

Rainey was not that easily swayed. She chuckled at Wendy’s tactics.

“Straight for the guilt trip. That didn’t take long.”

“Please, Rainey. I’m staying at your house tomorrow night so you can go to Quantico. Peace of mind from knowing your three kids and stressed out wife are secure while you’re away, in exchange for two hours of your time.”

“Whoa, layering it on now. This is great training for when Weather gets older and tries manipulating her mother and me.” Against her better judgment, Rainey gave in. “Okay, I’ll talk to these kids, but we agree right now, if there is anything at all I feel should be in an official report, we call it in. Officer Wendy is not embarking on an unofficial investigation and dragging my businesses down with her. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Wendy said, with a mock salute and in perfect little sister style added, “Who are you kidding? When Weather is my age you’ll be so old, you will be an easy mark for that child. She’s already running the show.”

“Oh, shut up,” Rainey said, laughing because it was the truth.

“Wow, Wendy, you do look like your sister.”

A handsome man approached with Sheila Robertson at his side, wearing fashionable glasses and a tweed suit to round out his professorial look. He was a little taller than Rainey, a few inches over six feet, and had the athletic build of a man younger than his slightly graying temples suggested. Rainey recognized him from the Cookie Kutter show, but would never admit she’d watched his discussion on paraphilia. She looked him up, read his bio and the study he authored on fetishism. She also knew of him from her currently blushing little sister. Rainey could see the schoolgirl crush responsible for Wendy’s gushing praise since she enrolled in one of his classes last fall. She was now on her second course with the dashing professor.

“Dr. Teague, what brings you to the Academy?” Wendy said, her broad smile beaming up at him.

“I have an appointment with Detective Robertson and heard your sister would be discussing the Triangle Terror analysis.” He turned his brilliant smile to Rainey. “I was most impressed, Agent, I mean Ms. Bell. I’m sorry, the agent label is hard for me to dismiss. I’ve studied your analysis of Dalton Chambers and his crimes. It’s required reading for my advanced forensic psychology classes. He extended his hand. I’m happy to meet finally.”

Rainey shook his hand. “Thank you, Dr. Teague, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, call me Rainey. I’ve heard good things about you from Wendy.”

Rainey knew the department heads had forced another analyst on the task force. Cookie Kutter wasn’t the only person doubting Rainey’s skills. Rainey wasn’t supposed to know about the request for a reevaluation of her profile. Sheila clarified Teague’s presence to keep the awkwardness at bay.

“Dr. Teague is reviewing the medical examiner’s reports on those two teenagers Wake County found. One of them was from Durham County. While we try to determine the jurisdiction of the murders, we’re cooperating with Wake. We’re hoping Dr. Teague can give us some clues as to what we’re dealing with,” Sheila explained.

Rainey listened to Sheila, but her attention was drawn to her little sister. Wendy’s blush had turned a darker shade and red splotches were just becoming visible on her neck. The girl had it bad for teacher. At least fifteen years Wendy’s senior, from Rainey’s estimation, the handsome professor was charismatic, erudite, and from Wendy's description a “captivating” educator. Rainey saw exactly who was captivated. The age difference did not concern her, but Dr. Teague’s wedding ring and his position of power did.

Wendy’s crush was harmless, thus far, and Rainey hoped it flamed out before a discussion of ethics and power imbalanced relationships became necessary. In the meantime, she had never seen Wendy so discombobulated and found it entertaining, but would save the teasing for a private moment. Rainey suppressed her amusement and turned her attention to the professor.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to offer valuable insights, Dr. Teague. I’m glad you were available for the consult.”

Teague offered a humble, “I wish we could work together on the case, but I understand there are complications with that scenario. Maybe soon. I would like to extend an invitation for you to speak with my graduate classes.”

This excited Wendy. She enthusiastically urged her sister to accept the offer.

“Rainey that would be awesome. You could present a case or something. I know my class would love it.”

Commitments were hard on the fly for a woman with triplets and two jobs. Owning a bail bond business came with paperwork, lots of it, and the consulting and investigations business was never ending. Requests for consultations piled up on her desk from law enforcement agencies around the country. The BAU was stretched thin. Departments sought help from a growing number of former FBI behavioral analysts when BAU involvement wasn’t feasible or timely. Frustrated big city detectives and overwhelmed small town sheriffs sent Rainey the cold cases that haunted their dreams.

“I will check my schedule and get back to you. I’m sure we can work something out, Dr. Teague.”

“It’s Edward,” he said, shaking her hand again and beaming. “I look forward to hearing from you. I would love the chance to discuss some of the cases you worked. I apologize if I appear to be a BAU groupie. I admit to it if it makes me less creepy.” He laughed easily. “Maybe we could have coffee sometime.”

Rainey noted his smile was genuine. He wasn’t blowing smoke or playing politics. His presentation on paraphilia for Cookie had been thorough and straightforward. He wasn’t seeking fame, like so many analysts for sale to the highest bidder. He seemed to have a genuine interest in the research.

“Coffee sounds great, Edward. I’ll be in touch.”

Rainey saw up close what was fanning her sister’s flames. This guy was one fine looking man, he had a brain, and he was out of bounds. Billy Bell’s daughters inherited their father’s attraction to the inaccessible. Katie had been about as off limits as a temptation could be—married, straight, and Rainey’s security assignment. That’s pretty much the list of ethical violations it took to acquire the best thing that ever happened to Rainey. Wendy, it appeared from her blushed cheeks, might be willing to violate a few ethics of her own. Rainey’s fears were somewhat assuaged, as Teague and Sheila took their leave.

“I will look forward to your call,” he said to Rainey. With a small wave to Wendy, he told her, “See you in class.”

“See you, tomorrow, Edward,” Wendy ventured hopefully, and to Rainey’s delight was immediately shot down.

Teague pointed a playful finger at her, and though he was smiling, put his student in her place.

“That’s doctor to you. It will be Edward when we’re colleagues.”

Wendy was flustered but responded, “No problem, Dr. Teague. I’ll see you in class.”

Rainey felt sorry for her deflated sister but elated the professor gently but firmly drew the professional line.

When the professor and Sheila disappeared around the corner, Wendy said, “I can’t believe I called him Edward. It just came out. That was awkward,” and headed for the elevator at the end of the hall.

Rainey followed behind, trying to ease Wendy’s embarrassment. “You aren’t the first to crush on a professor.”

Wendy glared at Rainey and argued between clenched teeth, “I-I don’t have a crush on him,” apparently not wanting the others in the hallway to hear.

Rainey stifled a laugh, as they stepped into the crowded elevator. When the doors closed, she leaned over and whispered in Wendy’s ear, “Now, who’s lying?”

#

An hour later.

Observation Deck

Raleigh Durham International Airport

Morrisville, Wake County, NC

“Look, boys. It’s the Wendy bird.”

Rainey and Wendy approached from the parking lot. A slender young man with sandy blond Bieber bangs covering his forehead smiled down from the observation deck platform. Five other boys joined him at the railing. Rainey judged them all to be in their early teens, except for Bieber bangs, who appeared a bit older, larger, and the leader.

Wendy smiled up at them and waved, calling out, “Ah, the lost boys.”

They responded in unison, “Bangarang!” The sound was lost in the jet wash as another thundered off the ground at the busy airport.

The smallest of the boys pointed at Rainey, yelling through the noise. “Is that your mom?”

Wendy called up to him, “No, she’s my sister,” between howls of laughter.

Rainey leaned close to the still giggling Wendy as they climbed the stairs to the platform. She spoke over a landing jet, “If I remember my Peter Pan stories correctly, the lost boys shoot the Wendy bird. Keep laughing and I might let them.”

Besides the five lost boys, a half a dozen people enjoyed a warm March afternoon watching jets land and take off. Rainey was sure that was not what the boys were watching. They were standing along the rail with a good view of the parking lot. A search of the Internet for gay cruising sites in Raleigh produced lists with the observation deck always among the top sites. The boys were fishing for supper. Headlights would flash, and they would stroll down to see what was biting. Rainey knew this was survival sex for these kids, the lost souls of which Katie spoke at the ball, the thrown away beautiful children.

“She’s another cop,” the leader said, brushing his bangs from his eyes and indicating Rainey with his chin.

“Used to be,” Rainey shouted over more jet noise, making sure to meet his accusatory stare with a smile. She extended her hand. “Rainey Bell and you are Peter, I presume.”

The kid let a slight grin creep to his lips though he maintained his tough guy attitude. He was older than he looked. Rainey could see the age and shrewdness that was either chronological or street earned. He was a few inches shorter than Rainey. With a wiry, athletic build like Wendy's, he stood eye to eye with her. He was the largest of the group.

He shook Rainey's hand and corrected her during a lull in noise levels, “It’s Connor but welcome to Neverland anyway.”

“What gave me away on the cop thing?” Rainey asked. “I thought I’d shed all of that badge swagger.”

Connor proved he’d been on the streets for some time, as he explained, “You’re carrying, right-hand draw-over, shoulder holster.”

“Very good,” Rainey said, but Connor wasn’t finished.

Over the next jet landing, he pointed at her ankle and shouted, “You have a small pistol in a holster on you right ankle.”

Rainey congratulated him on getting it right. “Your observation skills are impressive.”

The noise again quieted. The sound of idling jet engines hung in the air, but they could hear each other without shouting.

“I know who you are,” a slight boy with a thick coastal accent said. “Cookie Kutter has your picture on her show all the time. You’re that FBI profiler.”

Rainey chuckled. “And you have questionable viewing tastes, but yes, I am a former behavioral analyst for the FBI, emphasis on former. I’m a private consultant now.”

“So Wonder Wendy—gonna save us all from the man—has a Fed for a sister,” another boy said, with a smirk. He was a few inches shorter than Conner, a little thicker, with dark features and brooding lips. He was angry and suspicious. “Either way, we’ll end up in state custody if we talk to you. We don’t know that kid you’re looking for. Come on, boys, let’s go.”

A young businessman topped the stairs, dressed in shoes more expensive than all the boys’ clothes put together. Focused on the young men, he broke into a big smile, which disappeared rapidly when he noticed Rainey and Wendy. Both women turned to scowl at him. He immediately reversed his track. The roar of another jet leaving the airport accompanied his exit down the stairs.

When the noise quieted, Connor turned to Wendy. “There went a big score. How are you going to make our time worth what we lose talking to you? This is prime time—fat wallets getting their cocks licked before they go home to the wife and kids.”

Brooding Lips, as he was to be called in Rainey’s memory box for this event, asked, “How do we know you didn’t already call the cops?”

“Wendy is a cop. She’s under more of an obligation to report information she gets from you. She hasn’t yet.” Rainey gave Wendy a warning look, before continuing, “She asked me to come talk to you, so here I am. As far as any conversation we have, I’m a private citizen subject to the same privacy laws as you. Failure to report a felony is technically a federal crime,” another glance at Wendy, “but only if a person actively conceals actual knowledge that a felony was committed. So, unless you tell me about your involvement in a crime that caused or will cause serious bodily harm or death, I am not compelled to talk to the police on my own. I can’t lie to them, but I don’t have to report every minor lawbreaker I encounter. Wendy, however, is skirting the law as we speak.”