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While Jackson Crow did the real supervisory work, Harrison was the creator of their unit and the overall head; Harrison dealt with the Bureau chief, mayors and other law enforcement—paving the way for Krewe members when that was needed. Adam and Jackson made a good team; Adam Harrison left Jackson Crow free to concentrate on the work at hand.
Matt had thought Adam and Meg would leave, but they were waiting for him, speaking quietly.
When he reached them, they left the building.
“What made you think your friend might have been one of the victims?” Matt asked.
“I received a strange message from her, saying that she was going home,” Meg replied.
Matt couldn’t help it; he raised his eyebrows at Adam. He said, in what he hoped was an even tone, “Then, perhaps, she has gone home.”
Meg Murray stiffened. He almost smiled. His reaction might be a whimsical one, but he felt she had the look of a dark-haired pagan queen—not a fledgling agent—at that moment. She might become a force to be reckoned with, if she wasn’t one already.
“She didn’t go home. I called her cell phone, her landline and her home in Virginia. She always has her cell—and she’s not answering it. Her parents have both passed away, but I’ve spoken with her aunt, who hasn’t heard from her, either. And now, of course, she’s worried, too.”
“But she might have taken a longer route...”
“Home could mean two other places,” she broke in, “aside from her apartment, and she’s definitely not there. Harpers Ferry is where she spent half her time, or it could mean Richmond, where her aunt lives. There is no route to Richmond or Harpers Ferry long enough to take all day,” Meg said tightly.
At least her anger with him had stopped her shaking. There wasn’t a thing about her that seemed fragile now.
“Thank you for making these arrangements, Agent Bosworth. I won’t trouble you again.”
She turned and headed for her car. Adam Harrison watched her stalk off, a concerned frown on his face. “She has good reason to be worried,” he said.
“And that reason would be?”
“I don’t know the whole story yet. For starters, we need to have that phone message analyzed. Her friend Lara Mayhew worked for Congressman Walker. Lara called Meg very late—as in 2:30 a.m. Lara was upset. The kind of upset that worried Meg,” Adam explained. “And Lara used these words—I have to get out of here.”
“But this call only came in last night, or rather, early this morning,” Matt pointed out. “I’m not trying to be skeptical. I’m merely playing devil’s advocate.”
“I’ve heard the message. Well, messages,” he said.
“Messages?”
“Two of them,” Adam told him. “I’ll have her play them for you in the morning. The second one sounds like an accidental call—just background noise. Might have been wind. We’ll need to have it analyzed, as well.”
Matt mulled that over. “So, there could be trouble. It could mean someone took the phone away from her, for instance. But it could also mean that her friend’s gone into hiding, which is what the first message implied.”
Adam nodded. “She could have, but I know Meg. And Meg... Well, you should understand. Sometimes people just...know,” he said.
“Yes, I remember you had your eye on her when she was in the academy.”
“And now she’s out. Her graduation ceremony was yesterday. She’s been assigned to the criminal division. Anyway, I’ll make the appropriate arrangements and bring her in.”
“You think this is a real case? This business about Lara Mayhew? Adam, we do have two savaged bodies. And Meg’s friend wasn’t one of them.”
“But her friend has disappeared. There’s a killer out there. And I don’t like the idea that Lara was working for a congressman. I hate to say it, but...”
“Yes, scandal has erupted in those circumstances before.” Matt frowned. “But if there’s ever been any scandal around Congressman Walker, I’ve never heard it. His wife is gracious, a well-known hostess and fundraiser for assorted charities. And Walker’s been in office so long his kids go to school in DC. Does Meg Murray—do you—believe that Ian Walker has done her friend in over a sex scandal?” Matt was skeptical. Not that congressional scandals didn’t exist and not that appearances couldn’t deceive, but as he’d said, Walker’s reputation was that of an honest, upstanding family man.
“Meg hasn’t suggested that her friend was saying anything negative about Ian Walker. Then again, you never know.” Adam sighed. “She’s worried. And her friend and the two dead girls fit the same description. She might be this killer’s type.” Adam looked away for a minute. “I’m bringing her into the Krewe. She has...instincts. We’re going to help her find Lara.”
“But should we be chasing someone who might want to stay hidden? Whose disappearance might be entirely unconnected? Sir, we have the makings of a serial killing spree here. One more will make it three.”
“Yes, and her friend just might be the one to raise the body count to three,” Adam said. “I’m going to let Meg focus on this situation until it’s solved. And, Matthew, you’ll work with her. My office, first thing in the morning, if you will.”
* * *
Was she dead?
Lara Mayhew saw nothing but a world that was black. Maybe it was limbo, maybe it was purgatory.
If so, death came with all the pain of life. Her limbs hurt; her head pounded. Opening her eyes seemed to be a Herculean task.
Death. Did death come with thirst and hunger and cold, too?
No.
She wasn’t dead, but she was in hell. Hell on earth. She could smell the soil around her; she could feel a damp chill seeping into her.
Buried! she thought. Buried alive.
A sound escaped her lips and she knew that before death came the ability to feel fear. Terror. She tried to move and found that she could. She stretched out her arms and felt the hard dirt beneath her. Yes, buried alive.
She rose to her knees and felt around her.
Scream? Don’t scream? Was the killer nearby?
On her hands and knees, she crawled forward—until she struck hard rock. She felt the pain in her knuckles. Yes, that proved she was alive!
She backed up and started moving in a different direction, inch by inch.
And then she hit a wall. Earth, more earth. Earth all around her. And stone, and metal.
She began to scream and cry out.
She was buried underground, and the dirt walls seemed to swallow her screams.
She screamed and screamed...until she could scream no more.
* * *
Meg had spent her last four months living dorm-style on campus at Quantico with the rest of her class. She was lucky, however, to have a small room to herself. She’d had a roommate who’d dropped out after their first week. Glenda had thought she was up to it, that the academy was what she wanted. But the physical training, along with some of the graphic videos they’d seen, had changed her mind. Forensic art had been her forte; Glenda was going to leave and work as a consultant for her local police.
Arriving in her room at the complex, Meg switched on her iTunes and fell onto the bed, emotionally worn out and physically exhausted.
She was glad she’d made it through the most grueling part of the training already; she wasn’t sure she would’ve been up for it after seeing the girl on the gurney tonight.
She was still surprised that Adam Harrison could change things with the snap of his fingers—or so it seemed. She’d expected to start working for Supervisor Marshall Dunn on Monday of the following week. Tonight, with Adam, she learned that she’d been assigned to Jackson Crow’s unit by special request.
She’d never forgotten Adam, and she’d had her heart set on eventually working for one of his units. She certainly hadn’t imagined that he’d remember her.
Or that he’d instantly take her into the Krewe.
Or even that he’d believe that this situation with Lara could be important. An emergency!
While she was grateful, she wasn’t at all sure why she’d been assigned to work with a man who evidently believed she was an alarmist. Special Agent Matthew Bosworth. He was extremely attractive—and confident. But the man looked at her as if she were more than green. As if she were an outright burden.
And she was humiliated at the way she’d fallen apart, so relieved not to have seen Lara on that gurney, she’d nearly collapsed. Maybe if he hadn’t come across as the most seasoned and superior agent in the entire world, she wouldn’t have felt so...yes, green, when she’d fallen apart.
It doesn’t matter, she told herself. She wanted to find Lara. Regardless of what her friend had said, she wouldn’t just have disappeared without getting in touch with Meg again. Without a phone call, at least, to say she’d arrived safely.
Meg was seriously worried. Thank God that Adam believed her—and believed in her.
“I would’ve waited,” he said as she drove him home, “given you a chance to meet some of the Krewe. But I’m convinced we’re dealing with unusual circumstances. Tomorrow you’ll report to my office. You and Special Agent Bosworth will trace Lara’s movements, interview the people she was working with and talk to any other friends.” He paused. “I’ve followed you, you know. Your education, your career.”
And Meg was glad. It was like learning she’d had a guardian angel watching over her through the years. She grimaced as she recalled the unfortunate incident with Agent Bosworth—and the fact that she’d informed him she wouldn’t bother him again.
Adam must have more agents, many more! Why did she have to work with this one?
She’d deal with it. She had to.
The important thing was that now she didn’t have to drive herself insane wondering and worrying about Lara—and end up looking like the worst agent ever after doing so well. She would’ve spent all her time obsessing over Lara’s fate, her whereabouts, when she should’ve been giving her all to the new job. But now Lara was her new job.
Was it better to know the fate of a loved one? People always said it was. And yet it could also mean the end of hope.
Years ago, knowing that Mary Elizabeth was dead hadn’t eased the pain of her loss.
But perhaps seeing justice done did create what they called closure. Her aunt had known that her daughter’s suffering was over. That her killer was locked away. Actually, he wasn’t locked away anymore. He’d been killed in a prison brawl.
Her aunt had told her that the killer’s death shouldn’t have made anything better for her. But it had. Christian or not, she’d said, it had brought her some resolution. She hoped he’d suffered.
And now...
Now Lara was missing, after leaving a cryptic message.
Maybe she’d gone into deep hiding. But if she had, she’d done it for a reason. And the only way to find Lara was to find out what that reason could be.
Meg sat up, considering the possibilities, trying to sort out where Lara could be. Probably not in Richmond, or at least not at her aunt’s house. But Lara had a small house in Harpers Ferry, left to her by her parents when they’d passed away. She and Lara had often visited during their college years, both in love with hiking and tubing on the river. They hadn’t been in quite a while; she didn’t think Lara had been out there recently, but she’d hired a service to handle maintenance and security, and she even rented it out now and then.
Maybe she was there. It was a direction to pursue, at any rate.
After a minute, Meg rose and walked into the bathroom. Time to get ready for bed.
She liked to shower first thing in the morning. It seemed to start the day right, really wake her up. But since she’d begun training, she’d discovered she needed a night shower, too—in order to be able to sleep.
Tonight, the odor of the morgue seemed to linger on her. She didn’t just want a shower to sleep, she needed one.
She took a long shower, with very hot water and lots of soap and shampoo.
Wrapped in a towel, she got out her toothbrush and toothpaste. The mirror was heavily fogged, and she wiped it with the edge of her big beach towel.
She looked thin, she noted. Thin and haggard. Well, nothing she could do about that right now.
She studiously brushed her teeth, glanced in the mirror again—and froze.
The mirror was misty once more and yet she could see her own face. And another. Behind her.
Lara’s face.
Lara’s mouth worked; her eyes seemed filled with pain. No audible words came to her lips, and seconds later she began to fade away. And yet Meg thought she knew what Lara had tried to say.
Not help me, but find me. Find my remains.
Meg whirled around just in time to see the last vestige of her friend disappear into the soft swirl of fog left by her very hot shower.
* * *
“I met Margaret when she was a child,” Adam was saying to Matt. “The Krewe didn’t exist back then, but local law enforcement in West Virginia called me in. They knew I could find the right people to help us discover the truth. I was also friends with an agent working kidnapping cases for the FBI.” He sat behind his desk, a cup of coffee in front of him, his hands folded on the desk. He raised them as he said, “There was hope that it was a ransom case, that the missing girl would come home. But her little cousin knew. She told me, although she wouldn’t tell anyone else, that she saw Mary Elizabeth sitting at the foot of her bed. She was gone, Meg told me, and she could be found in the cemetery. It changed the case. We found the body before the ransom drop, and because of the forensic evidence at the scene, her killer was easily caught. So I’ve kept tabs on Meg. I was going to wait until she’d graduated and taken a position at the academy and then introduce her to Jackson and the Krewe, but...well, life intrudes and changes everything. Life—and death.”
Matt nodded, well aware of the truth of his words.
He looked out the window onto the beautiful old street. He loved their location in Alexandria, and he was glad the Krewe had left the modern building where they’d once had their offices. There was something about looking out at the old row houses that seemed good for the soul; history had marched through these streets. The houses had been there when the nation struggled for freedom. They’d continued to serve as homes during the bloody conflict of the Civil War. Alexandria was so close to Washington, DC—yet it had been part of the Confederate state of Virginia.
Of course, he loved the Capitol, too. He was no romantic when it came to war, but the history of his nation’s struggle was both powerful and heartbreaking to him. He was fascinated by the life of Abraham Lincoln. He was equally interested in the lives of men like Stonewall Jackson and Robert E. Lee.
When he was young, his parents had purchased an old tavern west of Richmond. In a roundabout way, it had been owned by Thomas Jefferson, who’d purchased the place for a cousin and been repaid over a period of years. Matt had dreamed that he could sneak into the parlor area at night—and find Jefferson sitting by the fireplace.
He never did see Jefferson. He did, however, encounter the spirit of his cousin, Josiah Thompkin. Thompkin had regaled him with tales of famous congressmen, battles, the Underground Railroad and more. Matt’s parents had thought he spent too much time with his books and that he—like many children—had an invisible friend.
One of his great-aunts had known, however, and when his mother had spoken to him about her concerns, Genevieve had winked at him and told him that “imaginary” friends could be the best. They mirrored the soul, she’d said, and furnished the mind with information.
Great-Aunt Genevieve was long gone now, but he always remembered her with a smile. She’d made it to ninety-five, full of laughter and vigor to the end.
She’d assured him she wasn’t coming back. She’d lived a long life—and she knew the light was waiting for her.
“You and Meg have similar pasts,” Adam said, returning Matt’s mind to the present.
Had Meg grown up with imaginary friends, as well? Unlike Meg and him and the rest of the Krewe, Adam’s background was somewhat different. His son, Josh, had been granted the gift—or the curse—of precognition; he’d known what might happen. He’d known what people were thinking. He’d been ill throughout his life, and he’d died young. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason when it came to paranormal ability. Matt felt sad that there were people worldwide who kept their secret, trying not to give themselves away in case the world considered them crazy.
There was a knock at the door. Agent Murray was certainly punctual.
Matt remained by the window, staring out as Adam invited her inside. He turned, curious about the young woman. She could be no more than midtwenties, but she carried herself with a grace and poise that belied her age. Her dark hair was pulled back and she seemed even more attractive than he had realized. Today she was wearing a medium-length business skirt and matching jacket, and he couldn’t help noticing that her legs were wickedly long and well shaped. There was an unselfconsciousness about her, and he sensed that she had no idea of her own appeal.
“Meg, come in. I have a few more of our local Krewe working this. They’ll be getting onto research, credit card trails and the like. I think you and Matt should start at the source. Head over to Congressman Walker’s office. I’ve arranged that he’ll be ready for you at ten,” Adam said.
“She’s dead,” Meg told him.
