She seemed to draw herself up, stand taller, but didn’t move or back away.
“Meg, are you positive? Maybe you saw her, but she was in your mind, asking for help.”
She still didn’t back away. “I don’t see people who step out of my mind, Agent Bosworth. Do you?”
“Actually, I have. The dead can reach out, as we all know. But sometimes the living can, too, from a distance.”
She slipped away from him and he was almost sorry he’d spoken. She lowered her head. He thought she might have had an expression of hope on her face.
“I haven’t had that experience. I honestly believe that she’s dead.” He asked himself how true that was. He had the impression that she and Lara had often read each other’s minds.
“I’m sorry, Meg,” Jackson said. “Very sorry. Adam, I have some news. We have a match for our first victim. Her name was Cathy Crighton. She worked at the Big Fish down in Georgetown. Her boss assumed she just took off. Apparently, the pay isn’t very high and he has a large employee turnover. Not only that, he considered her a fairly unreliable employee, showing up late and so on. Turns out a friend in Oklahoma, who’d been trying to reach her, reported her as missing. The report took a while to get to us. I’m making inquiries about her last movements.”
“Anything about the girl who was found yesterday?” Adam asked.
“No, not yet,” Jackson answered. “We’ll be cross-referencing all the victims we have on record and missing-persons reports, seeing if we can come up with a common denominator.” Jackson looked over at Matt. “I’ve emailed you all the particulars I have so far.”
Adam turned to Meg. “Make sure you have everyone’s cell phone number.”
“I’ll get started on the digital,” Will said, leaving the room.
Kat was going off to the OCME, while Jackson and Angela left to research Congressman Walker. It was time for Matt to head out with Meg Murray.
“We’ll make a stop at Lara’s apartment first,” he said.
Meg bit her lip, eyes closed. He could only imagine what she was fearing—that they’d enter her friend’s apartment and find her there. Dead.
“It has to be done,” he told her calmly.
“Yes, of course,” she said. “I’ve already been to the apartment, though. I have a key. Lara isn’t there.”
“Wasn’t there,” he pointed out.
“Yes...”
“Chances are you’re right, but we’ll take another look, anyway. I’ve called the landlady. We’ll have her let us in officially—and start fresh. Maybe the landlady will have something useful to say,” Matt added.
“Fine, you two get on that, and then go over to the congressman’s place. We don’t want to lose this first session with him.” Adam paused, smiling at Meg. “Scariest part of the job,” Adam said lightly as they left the office. “Politics! Scary as hell.”
3
Meg wasn’t sure why, but it seemed that she and Agent Matt Bosworth were destined to be at odds—over little things that didn’t really matter. She didn’t mean for that to happen. It just did.
It started as soon as they left Adam’s office.
“My car is parked on the street.”
“My company car is just below.”
“Yes, but I’m going to need mine...”
“I’ll ask Jackson to see that it’s flagged so you won’t get a ticket.”
“Honestly, it would be simpler if I drove myself...”
“We’re going in a company car. This is a Krewe case.”
Who cares which car we go in? she wanted to shout.
She refrained. He didn’t open the door for her; they were both agents. Equals? Not in his mind! She didn’t think he was sexist. She just thought he considered himself superior because of his seniority.
She slid into the passenger’s side. Before he drove off, he put a quick call through to Jackson. “Can someone see to Agent Murray’s car?” He glanced over at her. “What kind of car?”
“Jaguar.”
He didn’t say anything; the slight quirk on his face seemed to indicate that a cadet shouldn’t be able to afford such a car.
“It’s a 2004,” she said, trying to sound as if she was just giving a description. She had no intention of explaining that it had been her dad’s. “Silver,” she added, annoyed with herself, wondering why the hell she was concerned about his opinion. It was all because she’d nearly passed out on the man. A matter of pride, she supposed. Or maybe even denial. She’d gone to the academy with fit, intelligent, attractive people. Agent Bosworth seemed to be all of those things—ten times over. He was hardened by his years with the FBI, she supposed, and guided by the single vision of an assignment. And yet if she so much as brushed against the man...
She also wondered if he was so rude and blunt because he recognized his own appeal. Maybe it was his way of telling her, Hey, back off! Don’t touch, don’t come too close.