A Profiler's Case for Seduction

chapter 7



It was just after ten the next morning when Mark and Richard headed out to the north side of town where Troy Young lived. At the briefing that morning Mark had told the other agents about Andrew Peterson and the possible affair with Melinda, but everyone seemed to believe that Troy was their man. By the time the briefing was finished he feared that the information about Andrew Peterson and Melinda had been lost in the shuffle.

“I feel like nobody was listening to me today,” Mark said as he rolled down the passenger window of the car to allow in some of the cool, fresh air. “You’re the only one who has taken my theory about Melinda halfway seriously.”

“You know why nobody was paying attention to your information today,” Richard said. “We now have two strikes against Troy Young. If we can figure out if he ties into David Reed, then we’ve got somebody who is three for three in the motive department, and that makes Troy our most viable suspect.”

Mark heaved a deep sigh and focused out the side window. The day before, Joseph Garcia had discovered that Troy Young had written and emailed Senator Merris, the communications filled with vicious words and threats.

Apparently Troy Young’s father had worked for billionaire, and Melinda’s ex-husband, Gabe Dawson’s oil company and had been one of the many men laid off when Senator Merris had embezzled from the company and run it into the ground. Troy’s father had committed suicide after his layoff and Troy had blamed the senator for his father’s death.

Just three days before the murders, Troy had fired off yet another email, damning the senator and promising that one day he’d pay the piper for his crimes.

Those communications to the senator, coupled with Troy’s hatred of Sheriff Burris, had the whole team buzzing with the scent of a solve in their noses.

All they needed to do was tie Troy to David Reed and then they could probably build a case that would lead to an arrest. Had Mark been that wrong in his theory about Melinda? Certainly, he’d been wrong before in his career, but this one felt different. His instincts were still screaming even though a potential viable suspect had emerged.

“Are you going to pursue the Andrew Peterson angle anyway?” Richard asked.

Mark shrugged. “I think it’s something that needs to be done. I think it’s something I have to do. Even if we make Troy Young as the murderer, that doesn’t answer the questions about Melinda’s kidnapping. I’m just not ready to let Melinda Grayson off the hook yet. I need to know where this piece fits into the puzzle. If nothing else, he needs to be checked out concerning the kidnapping. Maybe he had something to do with it because she threatened to tell his wife about their affair.”

“That’s the first actual potential motive that’s come to the surface concerning the kidnapping. It would definitely be nice to come up with a solve of both of the crimes at the same time. You need help you let me know,” Richard said.

Mark shot him a quick grin. “You going rogue with me?”

Richard laughed and then sobered. “Even if we get the killer behind bars, we still don’t have any answers as to Melinda’s kidnapping. Your theory of a spurned or scared lover at least makes sense.”

“But, once the killer is arrested, we’ll be pulled out of here and back to Dallas. The kidnapping investigation might or might not continue with the local law enforcement, depending on the new sheriff,” Mark replied. “And I hate to leave unfinished business behind, even if it is deemed not our business anymore.”

“I’m like you, I’d like to have all the answers when we leave here.” For the next couple of miles they rode in silence. And in the silence, Mark’s thoughts turned to Dora and the night before.

Mark had loved Sarah when they’d married, but it had been a quiet love that was comfortable and easy...until it wasn’t. She began to resent his long hours, his time away from home, and slowly their love had changed into nothing more than a friendship.

Mark’s desire for Dora screamed inside him. There was nothing comfortable or easy about it and that excited him. But she wanted to keep things on a friendship level and he would do that because he had to, because he’d rather have part of Dora than none of her at all.

He sat up straighter in his seat as Richard pulled down the dirt road that led to Troy Young’s place. Troy’s house was a small ranch bleached into multiple shades of gray and beige by the sun and wind. It screamed for a coat of fresh paint and some basic maintenance. However, the cattle herd in the pasture next to the house looked well fed and healthy, and the nearby barn appeared to be well maintained.

Richard hadn’t even turned off the car before the medium height, dark-haired rancher stepped out on his front porch. The man was clad in jeans and a white undershirt. His face was pale and his eyes narrowed as if the overhead sunshine tortured the last vestiges of a hangover.

He didn’t move from his planted position in front of his door as Richard and Mark climbed out of the car. There was no question as to Richard’s and Mark’s identities. The day was cool and each of them wore their dark windbreakers with the bright yellow FBI letters on the front and back.

“Gentlemen,” Troy greeted them. He didn’t smile, but he also showed no sign of nervousness or anger at their appearance. “What can I do for the FBI this morning?”

Richard made the appropriate introductions. “We’d like to come in and ask you some questions.”

Troy hesitated and seemed to weigh the pros and cons of allowing two FBI agents into his home. He finally gave a curt nod and opened the door, going inside ahead of them.

When he disappeared into the dark interior, Richard and Mark exchanged glances. The door remained open in invitation, but invitation to what? Both men drew their weapons and advanced toward the door.

Mark went in first to see Troy slumped against a corner of a sofa. As he saw Mark’s gun he raised his hands above his head in alarm. “Look, I know the place is a mess, but I didn’t know you shot men for that.”

Mark relaxed a bit and holstered his gun as Richard did the same. Troy motioned them to two chairs across from him, one of them holding a take-out pizza container and the other a pile of newspapers. The house smelled of rotten garbage, dirty clothes and stale booze.

“Just toss that crap on the floor,” Troy said, and raised a hand to the side of his forehead where he rubbed as if to ease a headache. “My loving wife left me two months ago and I haven’t felt like cleaning up since then.”

Unlike the night Mark had seen him in the bar, pumped up by alcohol, shoulders rigid with indignation as he spewed vitriol, the man in front of them now appeared smaller, beaten down by life and circumstances beyond his control.

Mark moved the pizza box to the floor and sat in the chair opposite Troy. “We’re here to talk to you about your correspondence with Senator Merris.”

“You mean all the hate mail that I sent to the bastard.” Troy nodded. “I wondered when somebody would be around to ask me about it. I’m surprised you haven’t been here to talk to me before now.”

Richard sat in the chair next to Mark and pulled out a small pocket recorder. “Do you mind?” he asked as he turned it on to tape the conversation. Troy shrugged, didn’t seem to care one way or the other. “You must have a lot of anger directed at the senator.”

Troy snorted. “We both know that’s an understatement. I won’t lie, I hated the man, his policies and his corruption. He robbed good people of their jobs. He destroyed my father with his greed.”

“Several of your notes and emails indicated something to the effect that he would ‘get his.’ What exactly did you mean by that?” Richard asked.

Troy leaned forward. “I sure as hell didn’t mean that I intended to strangle him to death. I was talking about karma, you know, that somehow karma would make him pay for his crimes, that eventually something bad would happen to him. Guess I was right, karma got him.” He slumped back against the sofa back.

“We’re not looking for a killer named karma,” Mark replied drily. “It was a real person who strangled the senator and the others.”

“And speaking of the others, we also understand that you had quite a few run-ins with Sheriff Burris.”

Once again Troy’s features darkened. “That man was a bully who liked pushing people around and he seemed to take special pleasure pushing me. I’m the only person in town who got a ticket for spitting on the sidewalk. Now, do you really think I’m the only cowboy in this one-horse town who ever spit on the sidewalk?” His outrage was showing. His face flushed with color and he was no longer slumping into the sofa but rather sat up straight, shoulders tensed.

He gazed first at Richard and then at Mark. “You two think I had something to do with those murders? Anyone in town will tell you I hated both of them. They’ll also tell you I’m a drunk, a loudmouthed blowhard, but I’m not a killer.”

“Did you know David Reed?” Mark asked. Instantly Troy’s shoulder grew more rigid and the flush on his face deepened.

Troy swiped a hand down his jaw, suddenly looking far older than his years. “I’m not going to lie to you. You’re probably going to hear about it around town anyway. It was all the gossip when it happened. Yeah, I knew him. He’s the reason my wife left me.”

A person of interest with personal ties to all three victims. It wasn’t looking good for blowhard Troy Young, Mark thought. “What do you mean he’s why your wife left you?” Mark asked.

Troy released a deep sigh and once again slumped back against the sofa cushions, a beaten man. “Mr. Slick sports writer seduced her. They had a brief affair and Kathy was stupid enough to think she actually meant something to him. Two months ago she told me I couldn’t give her the things she wanted in life and she moved into an apartment in town.” He frowned, as if suddenly aware of his precarious position in the investigation. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

“Where were you in the twenty-four-hour period that the murders took place?” Mark asked.

“It’s been almost a month ago. Hell, I’d have to think about it, and I think I’m done talking to you now.” He got up from the sofa and walked to the front door, opening it and looking at them both expectantly.

Richard turned off the tape recorder and tucked it back in his pocket and then together he and Mark left the house and headed back to their car.

“What do you think?” Richard asked once they were on the road back to the courthouse in the middle of town. “Gut instinct?”

Mark cast him a wry smile. “I must be hungry because my gut instinct isn’t talking to me right now. He has motive to kill all of them. It’s probably going to be difficult for him to provide an alibi for the entire time in question, but somehow I don’t think he’s bright enough to pull something like this off.”

“The team is going to love him.”

Mark stared out the passenger window, his thoughts going in all directions. The memory of his nightmare about Melinda suddenly chilled him.

Was it time for him to let go of his idea that she somehow had a finger in the deaths? Had they found their guilty party and all they needed to do was get him under arrest...case closed?

* * *

At exactly eight o’clock Dora closed the bookstore and stepped outside to see Mark standing nearby. Relief mingled with pleasure at the sight of him. After the unexpected awkwardness of the night before she hadn’t been sure he’d really show up.

“Coffee?” he asked with a smile that warmed her from head to toe.

“Sounds perfect,” she replied, and fell into step next to him as they headed toward the nearby coffee shop.

“Good day?” he asked.

“The usual day. Classes and work, but yes, it was good. What about you?”

“We brought in a suspect late this afternoon. He’s being held for questioning in the murders.”

“Really? Who is it?”

“I mentioned him to you last night. Troy Young, whom we’ve now discovered had motive to want all three of the murdered men dead. We’ll hold him for as long as we can and in the meantime tonight several of the men are conducting a search warrant on his place.”

“Shouldn’t you be there?” she asked, immediately feeling guilty about taking him away from his work.

“Nah, they can do it without me,” he replied easily.

“So, you think he’s the one?”

Mark didn’t reply and he stopped walking, his eyes with that hazy cast that let her know he’d disappeared into his head where murders were solved and where his desire for her had been stowed away when she’d denied it any life the night before.

She allowed him to stay inside his head for several minutes and then tugged on his arm. “Mark? Come back to me.”

He looked at her with the heavy-lidded blink that indicated he was rejoining the here and now. “Do you think you have the right man behind bars?” she repeated.

“To be honest, I don’t know. There are still some things that bother me,” he said as they continued on down the sidewalk.

“Things like what?”

He smiled. “Things that you shouldn’t be worrying about.” They passed a new banner that hung between two trees. Go Gladiators, it read. The background was bright red and the letters an electric yellow. “So, tell me about more about these homecoming festivities. Do you usually participate?”

“It would almost be sacrilegious not to,” she replied with a small laugh. “I always attend the bonfire on Friday and then go to the football game on Saturday night. That’s about the extent of my participating.”

“If I’m still in town could I join you for the fun?”

She looked up at him and as always her heart leaped in her chest. “I’d like that,” she replied as they reached the coffee shop.

As she took their usual table and he went to get the coffee, she thought of his request. If I’m still in town...it was a definite reminder that he was only here temporarily to do his job and then he’d be gone. They already had a viable suspect under arrest. Mark would probably never make it to homecoming. He’d be gone back to Dallas and his life.

A bittersweet feeling of both regret and relief flooded through her as she thought about the near-capitulation of the night before. She’d wanted more than anything to let him take her into her bedroom and make love to her until the morning light.

She knew she’d made the right decision in denying them both what they wanted, and his words about homecoming merely confirmed her decision.

She was used to being with the wrong men. Unfortunately, she believed that Mark might have been the right man, but at the wrong time.

When he returned to the table they sipped their coffee and talked about other cases he’d worked on in the past. Dora found it...him...fascinating. She told herself it was because she wanted to go into his line of work, but she knew it was much more than that.

She loved his clean scent and the way his slow, sexy smile began at the left corner of his lips and then spread out. She liked his abruptness, found his awkwardness in a social setting endearing. She was fascinated by the host of trivial information that occupied so much space in his amazing brain.

She was going to miss him when he left. He’d filled a space in her life she hadn’t realized was empty until he’d given her back the pen he’d borrowed.

They were just about finished with their coffee when Amanda Burns came whizzing through the door. She looked exhausted and frazzled as she headed to the counter. After she got her coffee, she turned and appeared for the first time to notice Mark and Dora.

“Hi, Dora,” Amanda said, her brown eyes deep with weariness.

“Hello, Amanda. Amanda Burns, this is FBI agent Mark Flynn,” Dora said.

“Nice to meet you, Agent Flynn.”

“Please, make it Mark.” He offered her a friendly smile.

“Amanda, you look absolutely exhausted,” Dora said.

Amanda offered her a grim smile. “To tell the truth, I am. Professor Grayson is on a research jag, and I seem to be the one assigned to do all the work.”

“What kind of research?” Mark asked.

“Everything I can find on sociopaths. Sociopathic killers in society, traits and backgrounds of known killers who have been diagnosed as sociopaths.” Amanda shrugged. “I think maybe she’s secretly writing a book or something.”

“Isn’t that the name of the course she’s teaching? Sociopaths in Society?” Mark asked.

Amanda nodded. “Yes, and she’s already gotten everything she needs for the course. She just wants more on the topic.”

“She’s well published in the industry,” Mark said, and both Amanda and Dora looked at him in surprise. He smiled at them. “What can I tell you, I have an eclectic taste in reading material.”

“She is well published in psychiatric journals, but I get the feeling that this is for something much bigger than just an article. It’s just my guess, but I think it’s a book. Maybe she was offered a big deal after her kidnapping.” She checked her watch and frowned. “And I better get going.” A tired smile curved her lips. “It was nice seeing you again, Dora, and nice meeting you, Agent...Mark.”

As she hurried out of the door, Dora watched her go with concern. Amanda was a sweet girl and Dora hated to see her so harassed and stressed-out.

“Poor thing,” she said, more to herself than to Mark. “She looked so exhausted.”

“Professor Grayson seems to be a tough taskmaster,” Mark observed.

“I know she’s a tough teacher,” Dora replied, always more than a little bit uncomfortable when it came to talking about Melinda with anyone else.

“I should probably get home,” she said as she stood. It was time for the coffee shop to close and time for her to allow him to walk her home and then go on about his own official business.

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this,” she said as they hit the sidewalk outside. Night had tumbled down, darkening the area except for where an occasional streetlamp pooled a halo of light to the ground.

“Believe me, I know what it’s like to be scared, and it’s not a feeling I’d want anyone to experience if I can help it.”

She looked at him, his features cast in darkness. “Does your work sometimes scare you?” she asked curiously.

“Scares me lots of times,” he admitted easily. “But, fear is a good, healthy response to a perceived danger. It’s a primal response that helps keep us alive.”

“In any case, I appreciate you helping to alleviate some of mine even though I can’t imagine why I’d be in any danger. I still think it’s possible I’m just a little bit on edge and imagining things because of what’s happened here in town.”

They had almost reached Dora’s house when Mark stiffened beside her and grabbed her arm with a sense of urgency. “Your imaginary stalker is at the window on the side of your house,” he said softly as he reached inside his jacket.

Dora released a startled gasp as she spied the dark figure at the side of her house.

“When I say go, you run straight to your front door, get inside and lock the door,” Mark whispered.

“What are you going to do?” Dora asked in alarm. She wanted him to come with her, to run inside the house and lock the door against any danger to either of them.

“Go,” he replied, and gave her a little shove as he took off running toward the house. Dora ran just behind him, her heart beating frantically, her gaze focused entirely on her front door.

Get inside and lock the door. Her brain screamed the command as she hit her porch. Mark had disappeared in the darkness, and the fear that screamed inside her begged to be released as she realized her fears were true...somebody was really stalking her.

* * *

Amanda raced back to her apartment, coffee already half-gone and her thoughts spiraling out of control and shooting in all directions. The day before, Melinda had given her the assignment to research everything she could find on the internet concerning sociopaths. Initially Amanda hadn’t thought it a big deal...until she’d actually started the daunting task.

There were thousands of articles about the mental illness, thousands of pages about killers, child abusers and other criminals who had been diagnosed with the personality disorder.

Much of it Amanda knew Melinda already had in her books and papers on the subject, so she didn’t understand why she had been given a task that felt remarkably like stupid busywork.

And something was definitely going on between Ben and Melinda. Something wrong. Amanda reached her apartment and sank into the sofa, sipping the last of the coffee as she thought of her boss and her coworker.

Secrets. They seemed to share secrets that didn’t include her. If she entered a room when the two of them were there, there was a sudden pregnant silence. They didn’t seem to want her to hear them.

Things had just gotten weird and Amanda couldn’t quite place her finger on what was going on. She only knew that for the first time since she’d started working for Melinda she’d begun to see some flaws in her idol.

The fact that Amanda was relatively certain Melinda had invited Ben into her bed wasn’t just nauseating, but so beneath the brilliant woman Amanda had thought she’d known.

Lately Melinda would occasionally fall silent, as if in her own world inside her head, and a small curve would lift her lips. But when jarred out of her thoughts, there was a second when her huge green eyes looked hard and wicked and frightening.

The truth of the matter was that Amanda had begun to distrust the woman she’d once admired above all others. She certainly couldn’t talk about her feelings with Ben, who had always been a besotted fool where Melinda was concerned. If Melinda told Ben to jump off a cliff he wouldn’t hesitate if he knew it would make Melinda happy.

She thought about the FBI agent she’d met. Mark. He’d seemed nice and she’d always liked Dora, but what would she tell them? That something strange was going on but she couldn’t put her finger on it? That her coworker was sleeping with the boss and Amanda was jealous of the relationship they seemed to have formed? A relationship based on sex and secrets?

She tucked a strand of her long blond hair behind her ear with a weary sigh. Maybe everything seemed strange because she was functioning on empty. What she needed more than anything was about twenty-four hours of uninterrupted sleep. Unfortunately, that wasn’t in her near future.

She drained the last of her coffee and headed to the computer where a screen saver of butterflies filled the monitor with splashes of color. It would take all night for her to accomplish what Melinda wanted done by morning and even then it wouldn’t be a complete job. There was just too much to do.

Fighting back weary tears, she sat down and got to work.