Serial Games (Virginia Justice Book One) (7 page)

Emily had been the complete opposite. Her strength was one of the characteristics that had attracted him. She never backed down from a fight, and in half the cases, started it herself. She was bold, brazen, and demanding. The word “fear” didn’t exist in her vocabulary. He never had to worry about her until the end. Brandon gripped the cross at his chest. He didn’t understand why he thought of Emily now. Furthermore, why did he compare her to Maggie?

But as he studied the woman beside him, he could sense her own strength. Her gaze dropped to the hand that clutched the necklace. When she raised her eyes to his, she immediately retreated behind some armor that randomly came off in his presence. This not only intrigued him, but touched him somewhere deep inside…a place he had thought died five years ago.

He buried those thoughts. What had she asked him? About a missing body? “The women? Yeah, I know.”

“No, I mean the mother.”

Brandon’s forehead crinkled. “What?”

“Right before the wake, the funeral home reported her body missing.” Maggie kept her eyes straight ahead.

“Was it Burrows?”

Maggie shrugged her shoulders once. “Who else could it have been? When agents asked about it during an investigative interview, he just laughed. Laughed! Like it was some cruel joke only he knew the punch line to. This is all just some game to him. Those women he killed…just pawns in a game. But his mother…” Maggie’s eyes scanned the nearby tree line leading into the woods.

Brandon waited as she processed her thoughts. Her intensity kept him on his toes.

“She’s everywhere in that house — in the faded curtains, the upholstery, the chipped feminine wallpaper, and the polished china in the cabinets.” Maggie sighed and ran her hands through her loose, dark brown hair. Sun from the windshield streamed on it and for the first time, Brandon noticed slight auburn streaks that testified to her time spent in the summer sun. He had been so busy with work, he barely noticed the time moving anymore.

Maggie shook her head again and crossed her arms. “She’s even in those books down in the basement. If only I knew what Burrows thought of her, then I would know why all of this is happening, or did happen.” Maggie cleared her throat. “Everything is how we left it, of course. Nothing’s changed, and that means we have nothing.” She turned her discouraged eyes on him.

Brandon heard unbelief in her voice. He gave an encouraging smile and turned the keys in the ignition. The car rumbled to life. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

Maggie gave him a quizzical look.

“We have the last victim.”

Maggie and Brandon agreed to meet Sheriff Macintosh and the other potential victims, including Sally Mayes, at the Town Hall. As they drove to meet the group, Brandon received updates from the field, and Maggie answered a few text messages from Doug. Maggie noticed a voicemail left yesterday and dialed it. Her irritation rose. She hated receiving late messages, especially important ones.

“Maggie?”

Her mother. She shifted to Brandon and mouthed “It’s family.” He relaxed and they pulled into a space in front of the courthouse.

Maggie sensed Brandon’s eyes on her. She tried to remain outwardly unreadable as she listened to a message about how babysitting her nephew was good practice for when she would have children. Maggie’s eyes closed and she rubbed the space between them. She might as well rustle up a few stray cats while she was at it.

A loud siren sounded as she deleted the voicemail. They both turned to see a fire truck pull out of the fire station directly across from the courthouse, followed by a second one a moment later. Neither the US Marshals nor the FBI would involve the fire marshal in their investigation, but promised to call at the first hint of needing his services.

“Anything interesting?” Brandon asked as they exited the vehicle.

Maggie smiled as she thought of her nephew. “I was supposed to babysit my nephew, Jaden.”

“Jaden…the hot date from yesterday?”

Maggie blushed. She remembered he had asked about Jaden, and she didn’t exactly clarify he was her nephew. She also remembered how Brandon’s jaw had tensed at the idea of her having a date but at the time, she’d made nothing of it. She caught a glimpse of him threading a hand through his wavy brown hair. Statistically, a man that gorgeous was already in a relationship.

“That was my mother, who left a message wondering what was so urgent I couldn’t babysit.”

“Do you normally pull babysitting duty with Jaden?”

They jogged up the steps. “My sister is a top attorney in her firm. With her hours at work and being a mother, she and her husband find it difficult to get some alone time. I help out with babysitting whenever they need a date night.”

Brandon pulled open the door and waited for her to pass through. She thanked him.

“But that means you are dateless that night.”

“Oh, I don’t do it often,” Maggie rushed to say.

“So…you date often?”

“No, I—” She didn’t finish. Instead, she tripped and her eyes widened as the floor loomed closer and closer. She squeezed them shut, unwilling to witness the carnage about to occur to her face, and put her arms out to brace for impact. Her lids fluttered open when, instead of feeling the ground, two strong arms wrapped around her torso. Her hands gripped large biceps as she rotated around to face Brandon. He didn’t immediately let her go.

“You okay? I saw that ground just buck up and trip you.” His gray eyes teased while his lips fought a smile.

Maggie playfully slapped his arm. Brandon let out a short laugh. “Yes, thank you.” She wriggled free from the heat of his embrace. She shook her loose hair around her face to hide her stinging cheeks.

“Here, let me help you.” He placed a large hand on the small of her back. Maggie secretly relished this type of contact. She slowed her pace to increase his touch. “Just don’t walk too fast,” he whispered in her ear. Maggie caught his twinkling gaze. Her mouth betrayed her and she smiled. He grinned back.

Maggie inhaled the scent of coffee as they walked down the long hall toward a small meeting room. The aroma of the freshly brewed grounds starkly contrasted the Burrows torture chamber. She could still smell the odorous stench on her clothes. She fingered her suit jacket.
I’m going to have to burn this
.

They entered the small room adorned with several rows of unfolded chairs. Men and women filled their cups with the steaming coffee, while others gathered around Sheriff Macintosh. He shot her a desperate look.

Maggie nodded as she comprehended the situation. She turned to Brandon and understanding passed between them. These women wanted answers. Answers neither the FBI nor the US Marshals had…yet. As the talk died down, Sally rushed toward her. Maggie extended her hand to grasp Sally’s and they exchanged greetings. Sheriff Macintosh called for the women and their significant others to take their seats. Maggie now took center stage.

For a moment, her gaze roamed over the women in the front. All of them, in one way or another, had the potential to be connected to Burrows. All had visited his photography studio and used his services, and each possessed physical characteristics strikingly similar to his mother. Maggie’s eyes lingered on Sally Mayes, who most resembled the late Maxine Burrows. Once a blonde, her hair was now dyed a dark auburn color, but what remained were the high cheekbones, straight nose and brows, with slightly full lips. Although Maggie desired to protect all the women, Sally remained her main and immediate focus. The mother of two small children had once escaped Burrows, and he might return to finish what he started.

Maggie met Brandon’s cool eyes. He stood legs apart, arms crossed over his built chest: the absolute picture of brute force and determination. Maggie took confidence from Brandon’s stance. Burrows’s chances of success diminished the longer she looked at Brandon. If she couldn’t uncover his next move, pinpoint where he would strike next, then Brandon would be the best option at catching the elusive killer.

Maggie introduced Brandon to the women and informed them of the reason for the meeting. Eyes grew wide at the mention of Burrows being in town, followed by gasps at the revelation one of them could be his next target.

An onslaught of questions began. What were the US Marshals doing to recover Burrows? Who exactly would be his first target? Where was he? Would they be provided protection? How did he escape?

Maggie kept her responses vague and Brandon jumped in to answer the questions regarding Burrows’s whereabouts and recovery. Maggie slipped to the back of the room as most of the questions were directed at Brandon, whom she considered as he spoke. His manner was precise and professional while he addressed the crowd. But earlier…

Maggie recalled their visit to the Burrowses’ residence. She hadn’t expected to find anything of use there. An eerie feeling had stolen over her as she walked through the house. The sensation had shaken her to her core. Maggie trembled as she thought of it now, but it was Brandon’s reaction to her that left her wondering. Not only did he take the time to wait for her to compose herself, he had encouraged her to confront the emotions she tried to suppress. Maggie remembered how he stared into her eyes, how his gaze penetrated deep into her soul. His ability to read her both fascinated and frightened her.

Who was this man? How could he evoke such a reaction from her? Twice today she’d been vulnerable with him and allowed her emotions to take over where guarded professionalism should’ve ruled. Brandon removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to reveal muscled forearms as his hands worked to create mental images for the crowd.

Those arms had just been around her body.

Maggie’s eyes narrowed on Brandon. Underneath his shirt lay a cross. She had noticed it earlier around his neck during their drive in DC, and recently he was clutching it at the Burrowses’ home. Did he have faith or was it simply a charm he often reached for when situations became too emotional?
What is he thinking?
Remembering the inflection of his voice and the slight edge of sarcasm, when he spoke earlier about the absence of God in people’s lives, Maggie suspected an underlying bitterness. What was the cause?

Maggie’s gaze caught Brandon’s eyes and raised brows. Did he think she was studying him? Maggie raised her own in response. “I have nothing more to add,” she said.

The sheriff took control of the meeting. Her eyes held Brandon’s as he walked toward her. Maggie suppressed the shiver that traveled up her spine as she focused on his deliberate gait in her direction. As he walked, he owned the room and everything in it…including her.

“You seemed a little distracted earlier,” he whispered as he stood beside her.

Maggie swallowed. Yes, she was distracted, and he was the one who distracted her.

“Anything I should know about?”

I bet you already know how handsome you look
. Maggie turned her head to meet his eyes. “Nope.” His eyes narrowed in response. Did he read through her cover? Maggie quickly turned her gaze to the sheriff. Brandon’s ability to probe unnerved her. Her attention turned to a slight buzzing noise. Brandon pulled his cell from his back pocket and looked at the screen.

“A few of my men want to meet up. Want to grab a quick bite, then head back to the hotel?”

Maggie nodded, disappointed. She hoped the text revealed a break in the search. They still raced against time. “Just let me speak with Sally for a moment. I want to meet up with her later.”

“Sure.”

After Maggie and Sally confirmed a time for their meeting later that evening, Maggie and Brandon drove to the Stable, a local sandwich shop. Brandon held the door for her and she walked through. A few people sat at the bar and chatted with the bartender and in the corner, a familiar jukebox played an old country tune.

“What’s good here?” Brandon asked as they walked to the cash register near the bar to order.

“Their beef brisket sandwiches are the best.”

“Mmm, that sounds good.”

“I’ll get us a table.” Maggie found a table in a quiet corner in the back of the darkened restaurant while Brandon ordered. She closed her cell when Brandon placed two trays on the table. Even the tempting smell of her barbeque brisket sandwich didn’t do much to lighten her mood.

“Wanna talk about it?” Brandon sat across from her. He placed his elbows on the table, leaned in, and waited for her to respond. Maggie looked up, her eyes locking with his. He raised his brows.

“That was my supervisor. He wanted an update on Burrows. I had to tell him we had nothing so far.”

“The first forty-eight hours are crucial when a fugitive is on the run. Many are caught within that time period. But we’re not dealing with your average criminal.” He picked up his sandwich, eyed the meat, and then took a huge bite. Maggie watched him chew, his strong jaw working the food. His eyes held hers and he smiled. “This is a great sandwich.”

Maggie picked hers up. “I know. This restaurant got a lot of business the last time we were here.”

“So…did your boss have an issue?”

Maggie took a bite of her sandwich and avoided the question.

“I mean, you have that look on your face.”

Her brows bunched. “What do you mean
that look
?”

Brandon wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You know — when something is overwhelming you.”

Maggie swallowed a lump of well-sauced meat, but it might as well have been a dry rock. “Um, no offense,
Marshal
, but I don’t think you know me that well.”

He took another bite. His eyes held hers. He took his time chewing and all the while, Maggie was anxious for his response. He swallowed his bite and then took a sip of soda. “You don’t have to be a profiler to read people well.”

True.

“Part of my job in tracking and recovering is knowing my subject,” he continued.

“Oh, so I’m a subject?” Maggie took a small bite. Her stomach tied into uncomfortable knots. Not only was this man gorgeous, and sensitive, but also perceptive. She could fall too easily for him, not knowing where he stood on the important issues, and that wasn’t a good thing.