Dead By Midnight (11 page)

“I’d never peg Lorie Hammonds for the kind of woman who would have gotten involved in the porno business.” Derek munched on his dill pickle.

“She was young,” Maleah said. “She made a huge mistake and she’s been paying for it ever since. Nobody in this town has ever let her forget she bared it all in
Playboy
and then did even worse by getting a bit part in that one movie.”

“Why did she come back here? She had to know she would have to deal with the town’s scorn. She could have started over someplace else where no one knew her.”

“I don’t know. You’d have to ask her, but my guess is that, at the time, Mike Birkett had something to do with why she came back to Dunmore.”

“Birkett, huh? The old boyfriend? I picked up on some strong vibes between them the first time I saw them together.”

“I was about thirteen when Mike and Lorie were engaged. She walked out on him before the wedding and went to California,” Maleah said. “I haven’t lived in Dunmore since I left for college, so I haven’t exactly kept up on local gossip. All I know is what my brother told me. It took Mike quite a while to get over Lorie, but he finally married someone else, had a couple of kids, got elected sheriff, and—”

“Lived happily ever after.”

“Not hardly. His wife had cancer. She died four years ago.”

“Tough break,” Derek said.

“Yeah, it was. Mike’s a good guy.”

“And Lorie?”

“What about Lorie?”

“I sense that she’s a good woman despite her notorious past.”

“On that, Mr. Lawrence, we can agree. I think fate handed Lorie a raw deal. She’s already more than paid for her sins. And now she’s on a killer’s hit list and unless we can keep her safe…”

“We will,” Derek said. “Powell’s will keep her guarded twenty-four/seven and local law enforcement will do their job as backup. But what you and I accomplish by interviewing everyone associated with
Midnight Masquerade
could well result in our finding the killer and stopping him before he can get to Lorie.”

“Dear God, I hope so.”

The Powell jet landed shortly before noon, Eastern Standard Time. Sanders picked up Nic and Griff at the private airport and drove them home. On the ride to Griffin’s Rest, they talked business. Sanders brought them up to date on the three new Powell Agency clients and how the cases had turned out to be related.

“Hell of a coincidence,” Griff said.

“Three separate murder investigations that no doubt have the same killer,” Nic said. “Yeah, I’d say that was one hell of a coincidence.”

As much as she loved being a part of Griff’s agency—correction—their agency, Nic couldn’t help thinking about their very recent second honeymoon. It had been wonderful to spend an entire week without giving other people’s problems a thought. Selfishly, a part of her wished that she and Griff could live a different life, a simple, uncomplicated life with both of them working simple, nine-to-five jobs that never involved a life-or-death scenario.

But when she had become an FBI agent, she had chosen a profession in law enforcement, hadn’t she? That job had sometimes entailed danger and at the very least occasional excitement. And when she had married Griff, she had known that he would spend the rest of his life trying to right wrongs, trying to help those who couldn’t help themselves. Fate had placed the two of them in the unique position of being able to work outside the system to seek justice. Coming from a background at the Bureau where she’d tried to be a by-the-book agent, she had not adapted instantly to the way Griff ran his agency. But she had come to understand that too often the guilty got off scot-free and the innocent suffered without ever receiving justice or even closure. The Powell Agency tried to tip the scales in the victim’s favor.

As soon as Sanders stopped the limo in front of the house, Griff helped Nic out, kissed her cheek, and said, “I need to go over a few things with Sanders. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“All right.” She smiled at him and then went inside, not turning around to watch while he and Sanders took the car to the garage behind the house.

They were home. Back into the maelstrom of Powell Agency business. Nic supposed she should drop into the kitchen to say hello to Barbara Jean, but what she wanted to do was contact Maleah ASAP. She knew Barbara Jean would be overseeing a late Sunday lunch for the four of them, so she would talk to her shortly. But having just learned from Sanders that Maleah had been paired with Derek Lawrence on these latest combined cases, Nic thought she should check with Maleah to see how their twosome was working out.

As soon as she closed the door to her bedroom suite, she flopped down on the chaise longue, dumped her purse to the floor, and grappled inside to find her phone. She hit Maleah’s preprogrammed number and waited.

“Nic? Are you at home or—?”

“We just got in,” Nic said.

“So, how was the second honeymoon—everything you wanted it to be, I hope?”

“Everything and more,” Nic admitted, flashes of memorable moments in Griff’s arms flickering through her mind.

“That’s wonderful. I’m so glad for you. For both of you.”

“I understand you’re involved in a new and very interesting case that is connected to two other new cases and that you’re paired with Derek Lawrence.” Nic waited for the explosion of expletives, but when Maleah remained silent, Nic asked, “Want me to take you off the case entirely and assign someone else?”

“No,” Maleah told her emphatically. “I want to be involved with this case. After all, one of the potential victims is my sister-in-law’s best friend.”

“I could reassign you, put you with one of the other agents working on the case and send someone else to California with Derek tomorrow. All you have to do is say the word.”

“I’m tempted, believe me. But that would be asking for special treatment, taking advantage of our personal friendship. I won’t do that, no matter how I dread the thought of spending days on end with that man.”

“I really do understand,” Nic said. “There was a time, years ago, when I felt the same way about Griff. Back when I was with the Bureau, just the sight of Griffin Powell made we want to scream, usually scream at him.” Nic laughed.

“My God, don’t you dare compare Derek and me to you and Griff. I am not attracted to Derek Lawrence in any way, shape, form, or fashion. And he certainly isn’t attracted to me. There is no deep-buried sexual tension waiting to explode between the two of us.”

“Did I say there was?” Nic knew what it was like to deny your feelings, to pretend that you despised a man when on a subconscious level, you really had the hots for the guy. The first time Griff and she had made love, they had set the sheets on fire.

“It’s not complicated. I just don’t like his type. Never have. Never will. He’s arrogant, domineering, and expects to always get his way.”

“He’s also handsome, brilliant, charming, and rich.”

“None of which necessarily combine to make a good man.”

“I think Derek is a good man beneath all those other sterling qualities. You have to know that he deliberately says and does things to bait you. He enjoys setting you off.”

“Maybe he does, but for the life of me, I can’t imagine why.”

“Want me to tell you what he said about you?”

“No.” Maleah snorted. “I’m not sure.”

“I happened to hear him tell Griff that he finds you amusing. And Griff warned him to be careful, that one day he may push you too far and you’ll shoot him.”

Maleah laughed. “That gives me a great idea.”

“Which is?”

“The next time I go to the Powell shooting range, I’ll have a photo of Derek blown up to poster size and use it for target practice.”

“You’re wicked.”

“So I’ve been told.” Maleah paused for a second and then said, “Don’t worry about me. I can handle Derek. I won’t like it, but I can do it. You just concentrate on yourself and your marriage.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing. I told you that everything is fine. Why is it that you seem concerned? Is there something you know that I don’t know?”

“No, of course not. It’s just that I’m aware of what a rough year you and Griff have had and I want to see you stay as happy as you are now.”

“Thanks. You’re a real friend.”

“Takes one to know one.”

The moment she said good-bye to her best friend, Maleah started feeling guilty. She knew that Griff was still keeping secrets from Nic. Months ago, she had accidentally overheard a conversation between Griff and Dr. Yvette Meng, heard just enough to know that there was something important going on in Griff’s life that he hadn’t shared with his wife. But he had shared it with both Yvette and Sanders. The only thing she didn’t know was whether this “something” was a secret from his past or his present.

Less than five minutes after she ended her conversation with Nic, Maleah’s phone rang. Pushing aside her thoughts about Nic and Griff, she answered on the fourth ring.

“Perdue here.”

“It’s Griff,” he said.

“Welcome home.”

“Thanks. I assume Nic will be calling you today, if she hasn’t already called.”

“We just spoke.”

Without commenting on her response, Griff said, “Sanders has briefed me on our three new cases. I understand that he assigned you and Derek to interview people associated with
Midnight Masquerade
, starting first thing tomorrow. Do you have a problem working with Derek?”

“No, sir.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Good. Then Shelley Gilbert will drive down from Knoxville and be in Dunmore by tonight. She’ll take over from you so you’ll be free to fly to California with Derek in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are your brother and his wife aware of what’s happening with Ms. Hammonds?”

“No, they are not. They’re still away. None of us wanted them to cut their honeymoon short.”

“I realize this case is personal for you,” Griff said. “In a way, it’s personal for me, too. I don’t know if Sanders mentioned it, but the first victim’s brother, Jared Wilson, and I go way back. We’re both UT alumni and Jared is a professor there now.”

“Sanders didn’t go into detail, but I assumed that you and Mr. Wilson had at the very least a passing acquaintance.”

“I’ve told Sanders that I want to expand the investigation. You and Derek will be in charge, but I plan to send out other agents to do some of the legwork. These agents, as well as Holt Keinan, Michelle Allen, and Ben Corbett, will report to you and Derek and to me. Y’all will follow up on their reports and dig deeper whenever you or Derek think it could lead somewhere.”

“Do you want me to explain this to Derek or—?”

“I’ll do it. I want to talk to him myself.”

“Of course.”

“That’s it for now,” Griff said and ended their conversation with those succinct words.

Maleah slipped her phone into her pocket. On her way upstairs to pack, she bumped into Derek on the landing. Before she could do more than glare at him, his phone rang and he quickly nodded to her and headed downstairs. Griff certainly hadn’t wasted any time phoning Derek. She wondered if he’d ask her new partner if he had a problem working with her. Probably. Everyone at the agency knew about the animosity between them. And yes, she admitted that, for the most part, it was her fault. She wasn’t very adept at keeping her mouth shut. She talked too much. Her mother had been a quiet, almost shy woman. Her brother Jack wasn’t much of a talker, either. But one of the things she remembered about her father—other than his wide smile and loud laugh—was that he was an extrovert, a friendly man who never met a stranger.

What would Derek reply when Griff asked if he could work with her? He’d probably laugh and then say something to the effect of “I never met a woman I couldn’t handle.” She could almost hear him spouting off those exact words.

Arrogant son of a bitch!

Maleah hadn’t realized she was mumbling to herself until she heard someone ask, “Who’s an arrogant son of a bitch?”

She whirled around and saw Lorie standing in the doorway of the guest bedroom.

“Sorry. I was thinking out loud. Don’t pay any attention to me.”

“Do you know what time Ms. Gilbert will get here? I’ve started packing and I have to admit that I’m eager to go home.”

“You do know that Jack and Cathy would be more than happy for you to stay here until—”

“I’m sure they would, but I really want to go home. And I don’t want them in the line of fire, when…” Lorie took a deep breath. “If the killer comes after me, the last thing I want is to put Jack or Cathy or Seth in danger.”

“I understand.”

“I thought you would. I…uh…I’d like to ask a favor.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Would you keep me informed about what’s happening, how the case is going? After all, it’s my life that’s in danger. I have a right to know—”

“You don’t have to convince me. I agree. You have every right to be kept in the loop and I promise that I’ll call you with regular updates. How’s that?”

Lorie managed a fragile smile. “Thank you.”

Both of them heard the doorbell.

“I’d better get that,” Maleah said. “You stay here until I see who it is.”

“I’ve got it,” Derek called from below.

Maleah raced down the stairs and arrived in the foyer just as Derek opened the door to Mike Birkett and a broad-shouldered, auburn-haired man wearing tan dress slacks and a blue blazer. Although he wasn’t traditionally handsome, masculinity oozed from his pores and sparkled mischievously in his hazel brown eyes. Maleah liked him on sight. There was a gentle calmness to the man, and his warm smile expressed an easygoing manner.

Mike made the introductions quickly. Derek Lawrence, former FBI profiler, now a Powell Agency employee. Special Agent Hicks Wainwright, from the Birmingham field office.

“And this is Maleah Perdue,” Mike said. “She’s the Powell agent that Lorie Hammonds hired as soon as she received the second of two threatening letters.”

Maleah shook hands with the federal agent. When he smiled at her, she returned his smile. Her gut instincts told her that Hicks Wainwright was her kind of guy.

“Special Agent Wainwright has been assigned to investigate the three murders we believe are linked and make a judgment call on whether or not the Bureau should form a task force,” Mike explained.

The usually charming Derek said rather gruffly, “It won’t take much investigating to figure out that we’re dealing with a serial killer.”

Mike and Maleah stared at Derek, both surprised by his tone of voice. But Wainwright seemed not to notice and replied, “I’m sure I’ll discover that you’re right. And if I do, I’ve been instructed by SAS Josh Freidman, from headquarters in DC, to ask for the Powell Agency’s cooperation. We don’t want to work at cross-purposes, do we? And I’m sure your team does not want to interfere once this becomes a federal case.”

“Of course we don’t,” Maleah said. “The Powell Agency always does everything possible to work with law enforcement, local, state, and federal.”

Derek grunted. Mike cleared his throat.

“I’d like to talk to Ms. Hammonds,” Wainwright said. “I understand she’ll be going back to her home tonight and will have the protection of both Sheriff Birkett’s deputies as well as a private bodyguard.”

“That’s right,” Mike said. “A patrol car will be assigned to park at Ms. Hammonds’s home every night from ten until one. We’re assuming the killer won’t deviate from his MO, which includes killing his victims sometime around midnight.”

“Sounds like y’all have all your bases covered.” Special Agent Wainwright focused on Maleah. “Will you be personally guarding Ms. Hammonds?”

“Actually—” Maleah began, but was cut off by Derek’s response.

“Ms. Perdue will be working with me. We’re flying into LA tomorrow to begin interviewing people who were involved in making the movie that connects the three victims with Ms. Hammonds.”

Maleah bit her tongue to keep from telling Derek that she was perfectly capable of speaking for herself. Instead, she swallowed her aggravation, ignored Derek, and smiled pleasantly at Hicks Wainwright. “As I was saying, actually, another Powell agent, Shelley Gilbert, will be taking over as Lorie’s personal bodyguard. She’s driving in from Knoxville. We expect her to arrive later this evening.”