The American Temp and the British Inspector Page 13

  He stopped short of the elevator. “We’ll send someone back straight away.” He flipped his mobile closed. “Someone broke into the command center.”

  “But how is that possible? McDonald and Eddie were there,” Max said, panicked. To think he’d almost left Cassie behind.

  “McDonald went to get breakfast,” Barnes said. “When he returned the place was ransacked and Eddie was gone.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Missing?” Cassie said.

  Max wanted to wipe the fear from her eyes.

  Get focused, he scolded himself.

  “Barnes, go back to the house,” Max said. “Bobby, you’ll stay with the Cooper boy as planned. I’ll conduct the interview and we will catch a cab back.”

  “Yes, sir.” Barnes started toward the car.

  “Don’t assume the worst,” Max added. “Eddie could have gone after the intruder.”

  Knowing the kid’s enthusiasm, he probably did. Max, Bobby and Cassie took the lift to the sixth floor. He noticed she rubbed her locket.

  He placed a comforting hand to her shoulder. “I’m sure he’s all right.”

  She shot him a tentative smile.

  Truth was, Max wasn’t sure of anything, except for his need to keep her close. This case was getting more strange with every turn: a victim getting away, his own people being assaulted by the killer, and now the command center being broken into and an agent gone missing.

  He hoped Lyle Cooper remembered something that would give them a fresh start. They stepped off the lift and headed for the boy’s hospital room.

  He spotted Spinelli sitting outside a room down the hallway.

  “Good morning,” Max greeted.

  “Good morning, sir. Chicago PD just left. Said we could interview the boy.”

  “Excellent. You’re relieved of duty. Bobby will take over. Get a few hours sleep and meet us back at the command center.”

  “I dozed last night, sir. I’m fine.”

  “Very good. Someone broke into the command center and Eddie’s gone missing. Head back there and help Barnes.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Max went into the hospital room, Cassie and Bobby trailing close behind. Max approached the boy’s bed. “How are you, Mr. Cooper?” He had a few lacerations on his face, a goose egg on his forehead and an IV inserted into his hand.

  “Who are you?” the boy asked.

  “Max Templeton, lead agent for the Blackwell Group. We investigate violent crimes like kidnapping, murder, that sort of thing.”

  “You’re the guy who found me?” He sat a little straighter.

  “No, that was a bartender,” Max explained.

  “He called for help, but you found me.”

  Max’s blood ran cold. “Sorry?”

  “The guy who kidnapped me said your name. Over and over, he kept saying, ‘How did Templeton find me?’”

  Max took a deep breath and leaned against the wall for support. He had been close last night.

  “Let’s start from the top. We know you had lunch with your girlfriend yesterday. What happened after that?”

  Cassie pulled out her notebook and pen.

  “I went to the library to study for my physics test. A few hours go by and I get a call from some woman saying Beth is at Kelsey’s, drunk out of her mind. It doesn’t make sense because she rarely drinks. I rush over to the bar but I can’t find her. I ask the bartender and he says a woman left a note. All the note says is, Out back. So I go into the alley and I call her name.”

  “Did you see anyone?” Max asked.

  “No, but I heard a woman whimpering. I turned to see where it was coming from and I got stung, by a bee, I guess. I’m allergic so I thought I was a goner. Then I heard this weird voice, not human. And I’m drifting down the alley, into a room. I don’t know.” He waved his hand. “Maybe I was hallucinating.”

  “Why do you say that?” Max asked.

  “Because I remember weird stuff—someone wearing a Mardi Gras mask, talking in a weird voice. I heard a woman singing. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “What else do you remember?”

  “I don’t know. I think I passed out. When I woke up the Mardi Gras guy was pacing the room. That’s when he mentioned your name.” He looked at Max. “The guy was freaking out. My wrists were tied together, but I managed to get up, push him out of the way and run outside. That’s the last thing I remember.” He pinned Max with teary, bloodshot eyes. “Why did this happen to me?”

  “That’s what we’re going to find out. In the meantime, may I have your permission to leave Agent Finn for your protection until your parents arrive?”

  “Sure.”

  “Mr. Cooper, can you think of any connection between you, Michael Cunningham and Peter Stanton?” Max said.

  Lyle Cooper glanced at the IV in his left hand. “No. Other than being fraternity brothers, I really can’t.”

  “And what about the crank calls you were getting?”

  His gaze shot up. “You know about that?”

  “It helps us to know as much as possible.”

  “The calls stopped about a week ago. I don’t know why. I think it was a girl I’d met at a party a few months ago. I’d had too much to drink and ended up with her.” He glanced at Max. “I’m not proud of that fact.”

  “Do you know her name?” Max asked.

  “Cheryl, I think. Yeah, Cheryl.”

  “Last name?”

  “No, sorry. I only saw her that one time. I don’t think she went to Jamison.”

  “I’ll let you get some sleep.”

  “Thanks.” Lyle closed his eyes and turned onto his side.

  Max motioned for Bobby to follow him into the hallway. Cassie joined them.

  “Bobby, I need you to get close to the boy. Make him feel like you’re his best friend.”

  “Guv?”

  Max glanced into Lyle Cooper’s hospital room. “I think he’s holding something back.” He looked at Bobby. “Earn his trust. Check in later.”

  “Sure, guv.”

  Max led Cassie to the lift.

  “You think the Cooper boy is lying?” Cassie whispered. “Come on, you saw his injuries.”

  “I don’t think he’s lying about the abduction. But he’s leaving something out.”

  “How do you know?”

  He smiled. “Instinct. He’s keeping something from us. Maybe not intentionally, but it could be the key to finding the killer.”

  THE CHAOTIC SCENE at the house stunned Cassie. Papers were scattered everywhere, chairs were tipped onto their sides, and a few computers were strewn on the floor. She eyed Eddie’s desk. His laptop looked as though someone had smashed it with a hammer. She started to feel relief that he’d found her mother before his equipment had been destroyed, then guilt snagged at her chest; he was still missing.

  She pushed aside the guilt and the growing anxiety about being victimized, and drew on her personal strength fueled by anger.

  How arrogant of the killer to waltz into the command center and violate the team.

  “I never should have left,” Art McDonald said, shaking his head. “Eddie would still be here, he’d be okay.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, mate,” Jeremy said. “Guilt is a worthless punishment when you have no control over the situation.”

  Good, maybe Max had gotten through to Jeremy after all.

  Someone placed a hand to her shoulder. She wanted it to be Max’s warm touch, but knew it wasn’t.

  “Are you okay?” Agent Kreegan asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. How about you?”

  “Better today. I remembered something and wanted to get with Eddie. I guess,” She glanced around the room, “I was too late. If I’d only been five minutes earlier I might have—”

  “Might have what, Agent Kreegan?” Max said, walking up to them. “Single-handedly taken on a serial killer? Stop beating yourself up. It’s going to take a team of investigators to catch this bastard.”

 
; “Yes, sir,” she said. “I was looking for Eddie because I remembered something about the man who attacked me. A tattoo.”

  “Do we have a working computer?” Max called out.

  “Over there, sir,” Agent McDonald said.

  “Art, are you comfortable enough with the computer to help Agent Kreegan find the image she’s looking for?”

  “Will do my best, guv.”

  Kreegan joined McDonald at his desk and they got to work.

  “She looks traumatized,” Cassie said.

  “And you?”

  She fidgeted under his scrutiny. No, she wouldn’t let him be distracted because he was worried about her.

  “I’m furious,” she shot back, holding his gaze.

  “Good, better furious than scared.”

  “Not much scares me anymore,” she said. “I’ll get started cleaning up so we don’t feel like we’re working in a war zone.”

  She started to walk away and he touched her arm.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “It’s my job.” She winked and got to work, picking up papers and folders from the floor.

  When he thanked her, it sounded as if he thought this was the last place she wanted to be: in the midst of brutality and destruction.

  Yet a part of her couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. She couldn’t imagine going a day without seeing Max. Placing a small notebook on Eddie’s desk, she realized how much she wanted to be with Max, to help him solve murder cases and write his book. She wanted to share his life.

  She’d been feeling this way for a while now, but only over the last few days had she really accepted the truth: she was falling for the edgy detective. She glanced at Max, who was in deep conversation with Jeremy. She’d been shocked and thrilled when he’d offered Jeremy absolution for his guilt over Max’s injuries.

  Something had definitely changed in Max. And she liked it.

  “Is that Eddie’s?”

  Agent Kreegan’s voice snapped Cassie from her daydream. She’d forgotten her hand was still resting on the small notebook. “I think so. I found it on the floor by his desk.”

  “Great, it might be able to help us.” She snatched it from under Cassie’s palm, and shoved it into her jacket pocket.

  Cassie continued her clean-up efforts. As she picked up a folder, a gruesome photograph slipped to the floor. She shoved it back into the folder.

  Truth was, she should be terrified that a killer had been so close. But she knew, deep in her heart, that Max would never let anything happen to her.

  She knew that he cared about her. And the feeling was mutual.

  “That’s it!”

  Cassie glanced up to see Agent Kreegan pointing at the computer screen. Jeremy and Max rushed over to study the image.

  “That’s the tattoo on the guy’s arm. He had me from behind, he…” She stood and backed away from the computer.

  “It’s all right,” Max said, nodding to Jeremy.

  With gentle encouragement, Jeremy led her away from the computer to sit down. For two guys who disliked each other, Max and Jeremy were great at nonverbal communication.

  Cassie walked up beside him. The image on the computer screen looked like a skull with blood dripping out of its eyes.

  “Where did you find this?” Max asked Agent McDonald.

  “Agent Kreegan found a site for gang symbols. This one’s for a drug cult called Apocalypse Red, an international group.”

  “A drug gang?” Max said.

  Cassie sensed confusion in his voice.

  “Sir, I found this upstairs taped to your window,” Agent Spinelli said, coming into the room.

  Cassie held her breath as Max slipped on gloves and unfolded a piece of paper.

  His eyes flared. “Bloody hell. He’s got Eddie. And we’ve got until eight tonight to find him.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Let’s focus on finding our man,” Max said, his gut tangled in knots.

  Lock it up, mate. It’s the only way you’ll save Eddie.

  “I’ll go up and dust for prints,” Ruth said, grabbing her case and heading upstairs.

  “I want everything on the drug cult,” Max said. “Agent Barnes, call Bobby and have him find out if Lyle Cooper was into drugs. Something didn’t ring true about his story and maybe this is it.”

  “What did the note say?” Jeremy asked.

  Max handed it to him, not wanting to alarm the team by reading it aloud. Barnes’s expression grew still. The bloke amazed him. He could be completely devastated and you’d never know it. Barnes’s eyes snapped up to meet Max’s, and Max knew he’d read the last line: This one will die.

  And this case was a mess, Max thought, slipping off his gloves. A serial killer, but maybe not a serial killer, seemed out to get Max, yet Max had no connection with this vile drug gang.

  “Check this out,” Agent McDonald said. Max glanced at the computer. A man’s image splashed across the screen: thirties, scraggly red hair and bloodshot eyes.

  “This popped up off the FBI watch list of drug felons,” McDonald said. “Rodney T. Barker, member of the Apocalypse Red gang, charged with murder, but it didn’t stick. He’s got a few other drug arrests, spent some time in jail. He’s local.”

  “Spinelli, follow up on the drug gang,” Max said. “I’ll send Agent Kreegan downstairs to see if she can ID Mr. Barker.”

  The team split up, anxious to find Eddie. Max went up the stairs, hoping that if the bastard had been in his room long enough to tape a missive to his window, maybe he’d left a clue as well.

  “Can I help?” Cassie said, catching up to him.

  He glanced at her. “Help with what?”

  “Whatever’s put that look on your face. Whenever you’re working through something, you get this blank stare in your eyes, almost like you’ve gone away.”

  “Really? Has anyone ever told you you’ve got natural detective skills?”

  “Actually, yes.”

  “Who?”

  “Jeremy,” she said.

  He must have made a face.

  “You’re jealous,” she said.

  “Of Jeremy Barnes? Nonsense.”

  They started down the hallway toward his room.

  “Good, because you have nothing to be jealous about,” she said.

  “Why, because I’m a better investigator?”

  “No, because I’m not attracted to Jeremy.”

  They paused outside his bedroom and she looked at him, challenging him to ask the next question: Was she attracted to Max?

  They both knew the answer to that, and the feeling was mutual. But this wasn’t the time for true confessions.

  He stepped into the room. “Agent Kreegan, they need you to identify a suspect.”

  “I’m almost done here.” She laid pressure-wound tape to the glass. “Since this is a rental, there’s going to be tons of prints in the usual spots. I’m focusing on the glass where the tape left an impression. She peeled off the tape and pressed it to a lifting card. “If the killer’s as smart as we think he is, I doubt he’ll leave clues behind.”

  A few minutes passed, Max analyzing the contents of his room to determine if anything had been taken.

  Kreegan packed up her supplies. “I’ll get to work on the fingerprints and the note.”

  “Excellent.”

  She left and Max stood by the window, looking through the dusted glass.

  “This drug connection doesn’t feel right to you, does it?” Cassie asked.

  “No,” he said. “I’m having a hard time believing a drug dealer’s gone mad and has decided to take up serial killing for a hobby.”

  “Maybe he was trying to throw us off the track with the serial killer angle.”

  He eyed her. “When did you get so smart?”

  She blushed. “I didn’t. Agent Kreegan suggested it.”

  He plucked a book from the floor, one of many that had been tossed from the shelf. “Setting up a crime scene to implicate someone takes a l
ot of thought. I’m not convinced a drug addict would have the brainpower to do that.”

  “Good point.” Cassie’s gaze drifted to the bed, then snapped up to meet Max’s. She blushed.

  Was that because of last night, or because of what she wished had happened last night?

  Max slipped the book back onto the shelf and glanced out the window.

  “Art was gone for only fifteen minutes. How is it possible that the killer knew precisely the moment to break in?”

  Max pictured it in his mind, the killer walking up the stairs and knocking on the door, pretending to be with the utility company or phone company, and the second Eddie turned he clubbed him on the back of the head.

  Eddie would lie there, helpless.

  And it was Max’s fault once again. Couldn’t help him, couldn’t help the innocent passengers at King’s Cross. Four boys dead in London.

  “Stop it!” Cassie grabbed his arm and shook him.

  He blinked and glanced into her eyes.

  “I can tell when you’re going to that place,” she said. “Knock it off. You’ll never solve this case if you keep wallowing in all that guilt.”

  “Everything okay, guv?” Jeremy said from the door.

  Bad, very bad. Max didn’t want Jeremy knowing about his condition.

  “I’m fine. Need some protein is all.”

  Jeremy glanced at Cassie, then back to Max. Once again, only God knew what the man was thinking.

  “I’ve got Bobby on the mobile. I think you’d better speak with him.”

  Max straightened and reached for the phone, but Jeremy didn’t release it right away. Concern filled the bloke’s eyes.

  “I’m fine,” Max said, wrenching the phone from his second in command. “Bobby?”

  “Hey, guv, I asked the Cooper boy about drugs. He had a complete breakdown, started sobbing, begging for forgiveness. It seems he and the Cunningham boy were dabbling in the recreational drug scene last month and that’s why he blacked out. He wasn’t sure what he’d taken, but it addled his brain to the point where he didn’t know the difference between reality and fantasy. He thinks he may have had sex with a girl, and he’s not sure it was consensual sex. It’s ripping him apart. Seems like a nice kid, but the drugs made him crazy.”