Serial Games (Virginia Justice Book One) Read online

  “What is your gut telling you?”

  Maggie smiled. Gut instinct. Profiling was a scientific discipline, but it couldn’t replace the age-old investigative tool. As she pondered his question, her smile waned. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

  “Really, Maggie? You said you knew this man.”

  She looked over at him. His teasing half-smile created a handsome angle to his jawline. Heat rose to her cheeks and she tried not to think about how her name rolled deliciously off his tongue.

  But it did.

  And she thought about it.

  The sound of her name…not the tongue.

  “I’d like to take a look at the bus he was on, and talk to those present at the time of his escape to get a better handle on his intentions.” Maggie returned to try the combination lock again. Old safes were tricky.

  Brandon nodded. “We can do that. I’ve already conducted preliminary interviews myself. You can take a look at the notes and see if maybe I missed something.”

  “Oh, I’m sure your interviews were thorough,” she rushed to say over her shoulder but stopped when he gave her a full grin. Her heart thumped. Too attractive for his own good and a confident flirt.

  Get a grip.

  He put his cell to his ear and she heard him give someone an update. “I’m at her office now. Give me a call when you have that report. Thanks.”

  “How much of a head start does he have on us?” she asked when she heard him finish. She heaved a big sigh when the safe drawer opened with a metallic thud. She needed to get to that bus. If Burrows left behind this clue, she could identify others less subtle. Hopefully, they would have him in custody by tonight. Maggie’s insides churned as she remembered the newspaper headline she’d read earlier. Soon, the same headline would show up again if Burrows continued to roam free.

  “Significant. He’s been on the run for at least twelve hours.”

  “Twelve! ” She whirled around.

  Brandon winced at her reaction, and then grimaced. Maggie tried to steady her nerves. She didn’t want to offend the US Marshals. She pulled at one of the lower drawers where she kept her old case files and swiftly skimmed through the dividers. Twelve hours was a significant amount of time in the law enforcement world, especially when chasing down a murderer.

  “I’ll admit it took us a minute to figure out what was going on, which is why I’m convinced he had help from someone on the inside.” His footsteps sounded nearer. “The driver was only pistol-whipped to unconsciousness, thank God, and all methods of communications were confiscated.”

  Maggie found the gray folder, where she kept the most important specifics of the Burrows case. She turned around. Brandon ran a hand through his wavy hair. It distracted Maggie for a moment. She noticed how it curled at the nape of his neck, and shined somewhat.

  “Actually, several inmates escaped and we lost time in the confusion of doing a roster check.” He spoke again.

  Maggie nodded.

  “I wasn’t passed Burrows’s transfer file until the last hour or so. Again, there was confusion as to who was missing.”

  “You said he headed south on I-95?”

  “Well, that was the route of the transfer bus. It was destined for Wallens Ridge.”

  “Is that a supermax?”

  “Yes. Located way in the southwest, basically at Virginia’s western-most point.”

  “Hmm. Well, it didn’t get very far…” Maggie said, almost to herself. She heard Brandon chuckle. She looked up and met his veiled gaze, but his smile hinted sarcasm.

  “I have the CliffsNotes version of Burrows’s file. Let’s go.” She closed the drawer of the safe and quickly turned the dial to seal it shut.

  Maggie faced Brandon, who leaned against her office door, his attention on her. His appraisal caused her to warm. Maggie dipped her head again, and gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”

  Brandon’s eyes narrowed on her. She paused. Did she say something wrong? Did he expect more? Their best lead rested with the transfer bus. Did he disagree? She opened her mouth to ask what he thought, but he pivoted and opened the door.

  “I’ll drive you to where the bus is located.” He stepped out of the office and Maggie followed.

  Well, that was strange. Don’t start profiling him, Maggie. You have Burrows to worry about, and that is enough trouble. Maggie’s gaze caught Doug’s, who stood across the room at another agent’s desk. Maggie put a hand on Brandon’s arm to halt him.

  “Just a moment, Marshal.” She hurried over to Agent Fairbanks. “Doug, I want you to pull everything in the archives on Burrows.”

  Doug’s brows creased and he held up a hand. “Wait a minute. Burrows? Maggie, what is going on?”

  She leaned in. “Burrows escaped,” she whispered.

  His eyes widened. “What?”

  “I’m on my way to see the transfer bus where he was last seen. I’m hoping there’s something more that will shed some light on where he is, or might be going.”

  Doug nodded, his expression grave. He had worked the case with her; he understood the danger Burrows presented. “Give me a call from the bus when you’ve decided what you want to do.”

  “I will. Thanks.” She turned to walk back toward Brandon. He stood where she left him, arms crossed, stance intimidating.

  “Something I need to know?” Brandon asked when she approached. He uncrossed his arms and linked his thumbs into his belt loops. Maggie caught a glimpse of a shiny, gold-tinted US Marshals badge resting on his hip.

  “Most of the people who worked the Burrows investigation have since transferred to other divisions or offices. Doug and I worked on the Burrows case together. I’ve asked him to pull the archives while we’re gone.”

  “Will they give us anything we can use?” Brandon led the way to the elevators.

  “Well, I have my observation notes and other annotations I believe were crucial to piecing the murders together, along with a psychology workup of Burrows. The archives hold everything else such as interviews, surveillance notes, financials — nothing we would use just yet. Don’t worry; the moment something stands out, I’ll give Doug a call.”

  The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. Brandon pushed the button labeled for the parking garage. “If this guy is as good as he seems on paper, there might not be anything that stands out.”

  Maggie frowned at the possibility. The FBI didn’t apprehend Burrows because he wanted to be caught. He sent no letters to the local police, nor left clues for investigators to follow. Burrows made a life out of killing: a life he’d rather not have surrendered. Now privy to the investigative methods Maggie used to catch him, Burrows possessed the upper hand. And Maggie knew all too well he wouldn’t make the same mistakes twice.

  Chapter Two

  Brandon’s head hurt. The pain had started at the base of his neck and crawled its way to the front. He stifled a groan as reality settled in. Burrows was this profiler’s first and most dangerous case. He would prove to be a challenge. Although Brandon relished the chance of sparring with an intelligent fugitive — unlike the few idiots he had caught recently — if his determination waned in the slightest, he would lose Burrows. Brandon possessed the most stellar fugitive recovery record in the DC office, and he aimed to keep it that way. Crazy, brilliant serial killer or not. Any man he tracked, he captured. And this one won’t be any different.

  Brandon cast a curious glance at Maggie. Something about the woman who sat beside him put him on edge. Pretty women without much substance used to sway him, but not anymore. Heart and character, as well as beauty, appealed to him most. Brandon smirked as he put the car into gear and drove out of the parking garage. Earlier in her office, she’d blushed. His neck heated, and with a set of his jaw, he stilled his emotional reaction to the memory. Never did a woman so instantly attract him. At least not since…

  He pushed aside the thought, and sighed. This Burrows better slip up soon or this is going to be a long trip.

  “Is Sall
y Mayes there?” Maggie spoke into her cell phone. “Yes, this is Agent Weston with the FBI. She knows who I am.” Maggie paused slightly. “Um, yes, that’s correct,” she stated more softly.

  Brandon gave her a side-glance. Who is Sally Mayes? That name wasn’t listed in any paperwork he’d received about Burrows. If there’s anything else about this case I don’t know about… The rays from the bright sun hit the windshield and he grunted. His eyes adjusted from the darkness of the parking garage.

  “Sally? It’s Maggie Weston. Where are you right now? At work? Good. Whatever you do, stay there, where someone can see you. I’m calling a uniform to come by and escort you… Sally, Burrows didn’t make it to prison and he is um, well…” Maggie put a few fingers to her temple. “He’s escaped.”

  Brandon caught sight of her cringing; he imagined the woman on the other line in hysterics. “Sally, please calm down. He’s closer to me here in DC than he is to you. We can’t be sure of his plans just yet but we’re going to take every precaution to ensure your safety. Just let me get on the phone with the county sheriff’s department and we’ll have round-the-clock surveillance on you. You will be safe.”

  “Who is Sally Mayes?” Brandon asked when Maggie ended her call.

  “Hold on.” She put a hand up and spoke again, this time to a sheriff’s office. After she explained the situation, he heard her thank the person on the line for dispatching a patrol car. She disconnected the call and breathed a sigh too content for Brandon’s liking. She settled back in her seat. The hunt had just begun. She couldn’t take a break now.

  “Mayes?” Brandon asked again.

  “Oh, right. Well—”

  “Just a minute.” He felt a slight buzz, so he dug into the back right pocket of his jeans and pulled out his cell. “Marshal Worth.” He turned his head slightly toward Maggie, as if he felt her gaze. Maggie quickly looked away. He saw her nervousness in the reflection of the window. Brandon fought a grin. She’s attracted to me. “I’m with her now and we’re heading your way. Is the bus available for another run-through? Great. What’s the word on the rest of the transfers? Fantastic, we’ll see you in fifteen.” Brandon ended the call. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

  Maggie looked up from her notes. “Mayes was Burrows’s last victim.”

  “Last? She survived?”

  “Thankfully. When we put the pieces together, she had just been kidnapped. He was about to—” She struggled to steady her voice. “We raided his residence and found them in the second basement.”

  Brandon’s head pounded. “Second basement?”

  Maggie nodded. “The modifications he made to his mother’s house is a whole other conversation, believe me. But yes, he was just about to begin what we believe was a torture routine. Seeing as how we’ve never found the other bodies, we don’t know for sure. We only have Sally’s testimony.”

  Maggie ran a hand through her hair and Brandon caught a whiff of her soft floral scent. He inhaled deeply. When did he last notice a woman’s scent? Emily… She wore a similar scent: fresh, almost like spring. He didn’t think anything could smell so sweet after her.

  “All we know is other than a few bruises she incurred from being abducted and transferred to his basement, she was relatively unharmed, physically. We caught him with a small paring blade in his hands.” Maggie sighed and then spoke softly. “I can only imagine what almost happened.”

  Brandon’s jaw hardened. “That never helps, trust me. What could’ve happened? What the other victims went through? You could go crazy wondering.” Brandon sensed Maggie’s assessing gaze. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Living his life through the dark prism of his past had started to take its toll on his present outlook. Five years ago, he was a different man. Five years ago, he didn’t need to ask “what if.” Brandon reached inside his shirt and fingered the small, diamond-crusted cross that hung from his neck.

  Maggie continued. “The hypotheticals? A lot of profiling, and investigation as a whole, is establishing and eliminating hypotheticals to get to the real story.” Maggie looked reflectively out her window. “But in our line of work, it gets you wondering—”

  The cross slipped from his fingers and landed outside its hiding place. “Yeah, where’s God in all of this?” Brandon interjected. Stop. He had asked that question time and time again. The answer? God’s silence. He grimaced.

  Maggie angled toward him. “I think, although we don’t always understand why certain things happen, in order to get through the day you have to believe He’s still in control.”

  Brandon bit his lip. The muscles around his heart constricted and he fought the urge to allow her statement to root. How many times after the incident did he hear those exact words? How many people who hadn’t gone through what he had, shared that very same insight? Before, he would’ve started an argument, claimed Maggie didn’t know what she was talking about, but he remained silent. She didn’t know anything about him.

  He saw her look at his chest. The cross. He tucked it back beneath his shirt. Her eyes remained on him. She was either curious about his apparent bitterness — get your head in the game, Brandon —or trying to profile him; he couldn’t determine which. His affairs were his business, and he didn’t need or want anyone psychoanalyzing him. He heard the leather of the steering wheel squeak beneath his grip. “Tell me more about Mayes.”

  After a long moment, Maggie responded. “Well, despite where we found her, we couldn’t find his other victims.”

  “Aren’t they always in the basement?” he asked sarcastically.

  “You would think. Burrows has refused to speak on the matter. Even his attorney admitted he couldn’t get him to cooperate. We searched the woods surrounding his family home and came up empty. So many families live without closure.”

  Her last statement sounded wistful. No, empathetic. He would catch this guy.

  Maggie’s phone rang and she answered it quickly. “Oh, hi, Patricia. Um, no, I haven’t forgotten.” Unease filled her voice. “Actually, I’m so sorry but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it tonight. Could you please apologize to Jaden for me?”

  Brandon’s nerves pricked. Who’s Jaden?

  “Yes, it’s a case. Look, Patty, it’s really important. I wouldn’t cancel otherwise. Um, no, I can’t divulge whom I’m working with. Patty,” she put a hand to her temple, her lips dipped into a slight frown, “I have to go. I’ll call as soon as I’m able. Talk to you soon.” She sighed and then gave him a sheepish smile. “My sister, Patty.”

  Brandon kept his gaze forward. “Did you have to cancel a hot date tonight?”

  Maggie giggled nervously. “Something like that. Here we are.” They pulled into the temporary holding facility for prisoners. “Burrows was housed here throughout the trial.”

  “He wasn’t tried near Culpeper?”

  “His lawyer argued for a change of venue. I guess he thought Burrows wouldn’t get a fair trial near his hometown.”

  “That’s understandable,” he said. “But he’s a serial killer. Wherever he’s tried, he’d be found guilty.”

  “I agree.”

  Brandon drove toward the back of the building. A row of white, parked prisoner transfer buses came into view. They exited the SUV and a facility manager walked toward them, hand extended.

  “This is Agent Weston.” Brandon introduced the two.

  “Marshal, Agent Weston, right this way.” He proceeded toward the buses. “Now, I know you’ve gone over the bus, Marshal, but just for your information, Agent Weston, nothing in the bus has been altered since the crime-scene investigators went through. We’ll be waiting for your word to release it for future use. And the blood splatter you’ll see near the steering wheel belongs to the driver.”

  “Thank you, Bob. I received a call from the lead scene investigator and nothing out of the ordinary stood out, except the note,” Brandon added.

  “Ah, right, the note.” The manager turned to Maggie. “I guess that’s the reason you’re here, Agent Weston
.”

  Maggie nodded.

  “She was the profiler who put Burrows away, Bob,” Brandon added.

  Bob’s face showed lines of worry. “I remember hearing about that guy in the news when he was first arrested. Well, you must be pretty excited to work on this case again.”

  Maggie grimaced. “Not quite.”

  The Department of Correction’s logo separated as the bus doors folded open. Brandon motioned for Maggie to step up first. He placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her. She slowly ascended, and kept her hands to her sides. He watched her as she looked around the bus, first at the steering wheel, and then toward the rows of seats. Her face was absent any emotion, professional. Brandon glanced around him. He hoped he didn’t miss anything the first time around. CSI didn’t catch anything after Brandon noticed the note left in Burrows’s seat. The only evidence recovered, other than a few unlatched shackles and the testimony of the prisoners who did not escape, were the physical signs of the bus driver’s struggle. Brandon prided himself on being a stickler for details, but if she found something he didn’t…

  Maggie turned to him, her eyes questioning. Brandon pointed to where Burrows had been seated. Brandon’s forensic senses heightened as he watched Maggie bend and stoop. She removed the note from her jacket pocket and unfolded it. She turned the paper over in her hands a couple of times. “You are next,” she breathed. Her deep brown eyes turned to his. “How did you find the note?”

  Brandon gently took the note from her hand, re-folded it, and squeezed it between the seat until only a small piece, in the shape of a triangle, could be seen. He put his hands on his hips and waited. A minute or two passed when he cleared his throat. She remained unmoved, her intent stare on the tiny amount of visible paper.

  “It wasn’t out in the open for just anyone to see and possibly pick up.” Maggie bent and slowly pulled the paper out. “He wanted law enforcement to find it,” she said decidedly. Her eyes held the same confidence.