“I’d prefer a team of negotiators over any one individual negotiator.”
“Well, obviously.” They always worked in teams. “But if some bad guy started chopping off your extremities, it’s me you’d want talking the guy down, right?” Dominic grinned when Savage crossed his legs.
“You had to go there.” Savage’s lips twitched.
“That’s right,” Dominic said.
“With my luck you’d dare my kidnapper to kill me just to get my job,” Savage grumbled.
“I didn’t think of that.” Dominic placed his palm on Savage’s desk. He knew he had him.
“I guess you’re probably safer up there than here. It wouldn’t surprise me if the UNSUB pays your house a visit trying to get to you.”
“I have great security. I’ll know if someone tries to break in.”
Savage followed him out of his office. “Don’t forget your bodyguard.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Grab your flak jacket, Agent Kanas,” Dominic shouted.
She sat at a desk apparently trying to vanish into the office carpet. Chances of Ava becoming invisible were next to zero.
“What’s going on?” She climbed to her feet looking uncertain.
A ribbon of excitement shot through him as it did every time something big started to go down. “We’re going on a field trip.”
*
Mallory put a hand to support the bottom of her baby bump as she made her ungainly and inelegant way down the west bank of the Rappahannock River. It didn’t help that she couldn’t see where to place her feet.
Sweat trickled down her back and soaked into the waistband of her maternity, black dress pants. She looked like the side of a mountain.
The ground was dried, cracked mud, and the river was low thanks to a long, hot summer and the distinct lack of rain. Birds sang in the trees and squirrels chattered angrily at the police invasion.
An hour ago, she’d got a call from a local police chief about the missing Mule & Pitcher waitress she’d been trying to track down. Because of the nature of the investigation—both the drug angle and the murders—Mallory had put out a BOLO when it turned out no one had seen the woman since the FBI had busted the guys at the bar for drug smuggling. Mallory had figured she was involved in the drug operation, but it was also possible the DEA had whisked her away into protective custody as a witness for their case.
“You okay there?” A police officer in a dark blue uniform held his hand out to assist as she clambered over a decaying tree trunk.
She gripped his hand and awkwardly followed him to the water’s edge.
“A couple of anglers found her. They were hoping for smallmouth bass, got a whole lot more than they bargained for.” The glint of dark humor in the officer’s eyes made her release a small laugh. This she was used to. This was her world.
The baby kicked under her ribs, trampling her lungs as he-or-she squirmed, reminding her that her world was about to change. For a long time, the baby hadn’t seemed real, but now it was a fully formed human being, and she was already fiercely overprotective of the little bean.
The idea of being a mother was also terrifying. She knew better than most the dangers that existed in this vast and beautiful country. She knew her faults. She hoped she did a good job and didn’t screw the kid up too badly.
She followed the officer along a narrow pathway probably made by deer or anglers. It was the sort of place she liked to bring her rescued Golden Retriever, Rex, for a long, tranquil walk—minus the dead body, of course.
Up ahead she saw a small group of people gathered around something milky pale. She signed a logbook and leaned against a tree as an officer helped her slip paper booties over her shoes.
The fact she couldn’t bend in the middle was proving to be more of a hardship than she’d anticipated.
“Less than three weeks,” she muttered. She wasn’t ready for motherhood, but had realized over the last few months that she’d never be fully prepared, and that was okay. She had Alex and between the two of them they would figure it out. She was concentrating on preparing for the birth, which at least she could plan and have some control over.
Mallory walked on, feeling all eyes on her. She recognized the ME from other cases and nodded to him.
“You were looking for this woman?” the man asked.
Mallory drew closer and stared down at the naked and battered form of a young, adult female. Mallory had been shown a driver’s license photograph of the waitress, but the face was so puffy it was hard to tell if this was the same person.
“You ran prints?”
The cop next to the ME nodded. “Came back as Caroline Perry. Grad student at Mary Washington.” The waitress at the Mule & Pitcher.
Mallory nodded. “Any idea as to the cause of death?”
The ME raised experienced eyes up to meet hers. “It’s a little early for a determination.”
“Did she die before or after she was in the water?” Mallory asked. Getting a scientist to make a definitive statement required pliers and fingernails.
“Again, it’s hard to say.”
Mallory eyed the cuts and lacerations all over the body. “Looks like she was beaten…”
The ME frowned. “Again—”
“It’s hard to say.” Mallory finished for him.
“It’s pretty rocky upstream of here and with the low water it’s a rough ride along the river. There’s no bruising so there’s a chance the skin damage is postmortem rather than antemortem.”
Mallory pinched her lips. “Any idea how long she was in there?”
“Not long,” the ME surprised her by saying. “Given the relatively warm water, decomposition and animal predation would have been much more advanced and extreme if she’d been in the river for a full day even. I suspect she’s only been in the river since sometime last night.”
No one had seen the woman since she’d driven away from work on Tuesday night, but it was apparent she hadn’t gone home, and her car hadn’t been found. Where’d she been? When had she died?
“Any evidence of sexual assault?” The woman was naked. Had she been assaulted or gone skinny dipping and drowned?
The ME pulled a non-committal face.