Nameless (34 page)

It was
her.

He leaned against the fridge and devoured the rest of the slice. Sprawled on the floor next to him, Grace reached into the box for another piece, and rested her head in his lap. His lips slid into a grin as his gaze roved over her nearly naked body. She’d dragged on a T-shirt and panties to meet the delivery guy at the door.

McBride wished she were naked now. He liked looking at her. Every part of her was perfect. Great tits, great ass, amazing curves. And that mouth … holy hell. Since she’d straddled him in the garage, he’d stayed hard.

They hadn’t come into the kitchen to have sex. They had come for glasses and napkins and whatever else they might need and had ended up going at it on the floor.

That was after doing it in her shower … on her bed and on her sofa.

“We should get some sleep, you know,” she said after polishing off that last piece.

“First we need to talk about what happened today.”

She got up, took another swallow from the bottle of cola, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not yet.”

He figured as much. “Pierce was right. We did all we could to save Worth.”

Grace pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “Are you trying to convince me or you?”

He didn’t want her carrying this around for years like he had the Braden boy’s death. She deserved better.

“I just know how that kind of story ends and it’s not a happily ever after. Admit you did all you could and move forward. The only thing you can do for Worth now is to find the man responsible for his death. Martin Fincher put him in that position.
He
is the reason Worth is dead.”

“But he did this for you,” she countered, evidently deciding to play devil’s advocate. “And if you’d had one of the guys with you instead of me, the two of you might have been able to save Worth. I was a liability.”

McBride had sensed she was holding herself responsible that way. And maybe she had a point. But the one thing he knew with complete certainty was that you couldn’t redo the past. It was done. Worth was dead. It happened.

Somehow needing to protect Grace enabled McBride to face the tragedy differently than he expected. Considerably differently than he had confronted those in the past.

“How are you dealing with Goodman’s outing your secret?” That was another thing he worried about. For a guy who didn’t give a shit about much, he’d done a hell of a lot of worrying the last couple of days.

He doubted she’d had time to think much about Goodman and her story. This case had kept them moving from one challenge to another without a lot of breathing room. Talking about the story now might distract her from blaming herself for Worth’s death.

“Are you sure Worth didn’t send me to get you so you could play my shrink?” she asked, instead of answering his question.

McBride pushed forward onto all fours and moved over to where she sat. He kissed her nose, kissed her temple. “There’s only one kind of doctor I want to play with you and it has nothing to do with your head.”

“You know.” She avoided his mouth when he would have kissed her on the lips. “This happens every time. We talk about me and never get around to talking about you.”

He stretched out on the floor on his side, parked his elbow and propped his head in his hand. “You know what happened. What’s to talk about?”

“Do you have any siblings? Parents? Children? Former wives?”

The lady didn’t ask much. “No siblings. Father lives in Detroit. Mother in Boston. The divorce happened a long time ago. And according to my former shrink, it’s the reason I can’t commit to anything but work. My parents and I don’t do holidays but we do talk on the phone once in a great while. Every couple of years or so, anyway. I don’t have any kids that I know of. And no former wives.”

“What happened with Kevin Braden?”

The question—the one without a definitive answer. He’d worked hard for three years to drink all the theories out of his head. He thought it had worked. Until he’d come back here and faced the realization that it would always be with him.

“Worth was right about the evaluation report on me,” he admitted. Might as well; she’d bared her soul to him. “I wanted to save them all. I worked day and night, seven days a week. My success record was unparalleled. But it was never enough. I needed to solve them all. Putting in that many hours and focusing on that many cases, at some point I was bound to make a mistake.”

He thought about that, turned the idea over in his mind. Obsession had driven him … the same way it did Fincher. Not a pretty story. “I knew I was skating close to the edge, but I couldn’t stop. Which child did I ignore and which one did I go after?” McBride remembered those moments all too well. “It was a nightmare, a vicious cycle I couldn’t escape.”

“That had to be tough on you. I can see how you would’ve wanted to save them all.”

“But that night I was right. Quinn’s assessments were wrong. I was ready to move in on the location where the boy was being held. A covert retrieval was the only way to go, but Quinn insisted on going the negotiation route. He said I was wrong. That I was burned out, hadn’t had enough sleep.”

“The operation went sour and you got blamed,” she finished.

He toyed with a strand of her hair. “I guess it’s possible the same thing could have happened if the operation had been executed my way, but I don’t think it would have.” He relished the soft lines of her face, hadn’t let himself enjoy a moment like this in a long, long time. “We’ll never know,” he said, finishing the story. “Kevin Braden died. There’s no bringing him back.”

She looked at him as if she wished she could make it all better, could make it somehow go away. Now there was something he didn’t see often.

“They took everything from you.” She shook her head at the idea. “Your career, your reputation.”

“They did.” That he’d let Worth die today wasn’t exactly making him feel like the Bureau had made a mistake. Yet, this time he understood that he’d done the only thing he could. Even if he could have reached Worth, which he couldn’t have, and had tried to save him, Grace would have fallen. He’d made the only choice he could. Even Worth had recognized it was time to call it quits.

“You still have a lot to offer, McBride. You should think about teaching at Quantico. A lot of agents could benefit from your expertise.”

He tugged her mouth down to his. “That’s sweet, Grace, but I’m not interested.” He kissed her, decided maybe he was up to another round … maybe on the deck … in the dark.

Cell phones vibrated. Hers on the counter, his on the coffee table.

She got to hers first.

“Grace.”

McBride didn’t bother going for his. The message would be the same. He put the empty pizza box and cola on the counter and walked over to where she leaned against the bar that separated the kitchen from the living room.

“Yes, sir.”

She closed the phone. “There’s an e-mail from Fincher. We have to go in.”

Tension snaked through him. “Do we have a victim?”

“No victim.” Her gaze locked with his. “Yet.”

They dressed, stealing kisses between buttoning buttons and zipping zippers.

McBride didn’t ever remember feeling exactly like this.

Content
.

The strangest part was, he felt it in spite of looming disaster.

11:35 P.M.
1000 Eighteenth Street

The street was oddly deserted. Most of the reporters had flocked to Fincher’s and Worth’s homes, though a few still circled the morgue, hoping to learn more about Fincher’s mummified wife. Coming back here would have been a waste of time in any case, since Birmingham PD wouldn’t let the media anywhere near the building.

Pierce and Talley had called an all-hands staff meeting.

Inside the conference room, the first thing McBride noticed was Agent Schaffer’s bright yellow boots. When this was over, he was going to ask her about the boot fetish.

“Before we move into the next phase of this operation,” Pierce said, “there’s a matter that needs to be cleared up.”

McBride tried to pay attention but the man just got under his skin. Mainly because of the way he looked at Grace. McBride didn’t like it one little bit.

“Forensics has gotten back to us on the pulley and cable line used to suspend Agent Worth inside the elevator shaft.” His gaze settled on Grace, and then he added, “The pulley was defective. That defect caused Agent Worth’s death.”

McBride saw Grace flinch. She wasn’t going to let herself off the hook so easily.

Time to move on. McBride asked Pierce, “What does Fincher have to say?” Might as well get to the point of why they were all here.

“He’s not happy with you, McBride.”

McBride didn’t take the satisfaction he heard in Pierce’s voice personally even though it was meant exactly that way.

Pierce picked up a stack of pages and passed one to each agent in the room. “This, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “is trouble we need to head off. The state, county, and city police are providing assistance. Our top priority at this moment is finding Fincher and getting him into custody.”

“Or on a slab,” Schaffer added, setting off a rumble of agreement from her colleagues.

McBride would have added his concurrence but he was focused on the e-mail.

McBride,

It is clear that you are no better than the others. I am completely disappointed in you. We believed in you despite the fact that no one else did and you let us down. You pretended to be a hero when you were no such thing. I tried to save you as my Deirdre wanted and you could not be saved.

Now you will regret your actions. Allowing Worth to die was unspeakable. Taking my dear sweet Deirdre was a despicable, unpardonable betrayal. I am not a murderer and your failure has made the world believe I am. I have nothing now … because of you. No son, no wife, no honor.

The next communication you receive from me will be your worst nightmare. And this time, there will be no clues. The rules have changed. You think you have suffered, but you have not suffered at all. Not yet. Though you are about to learn what true suffering feels like.

Pray for death, McBride … it will be your only escape from the pain.

Martin Fincher

“He’s out for revenge now, McBride,” Pierce said, stating the obvious. “We’re going to need to keep you in protective custody until we nail this guy.”

“You know he’s not going to play with anyone but me,” McBride countered. “So let’s not even go there. This started because of me, it’ll end the same way.”

Pierce looked frustrated but he kept any additional comments on the matter to himself. “Okay, let’s get on with this then. Birmingham PD’s providing surveillance on Fincher’s home and at the morgue where his wife and her various parts are being held for an autopsy. Pratt, you and Davis go back to Fincher’s home and see what you can find. We’re looking for someone he knows or a relative—someone that he might be staying with. He has to be hanging out somewhere. Does he own any other property?

“Talley, you and Aldridge keep things moving with local law enforcement. We don’t need any bottlenecks. Grace, you and McBride dig deeper into Fincher’s son’s death. Make sure there isn’t anyone else connected to that tragedy that he could use as a victim.” Pierce’s full attention moved to McBride then. “I want a list of anyone close to you he might try to hurt to cause you pain.

“Schaffer,” Pierce said lastly, “stay on top of the ME’s office about reports. We need to know anything and everything as it’s available.”

The roomful of agents jumped to action the second the final order was issued. Every last one of them wanted Fincher badly.

Grace pushed back her chair. “Why don’t you get started on that list and I’ll get coffee. I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”

McBride rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. I could use a cup.”

No sooner had Grace walked away, than he’d forgotten the list. His mind had shifted to the timeline board. Schaffer had updated it thoroughly.

What did this bastard have up his sleeve now? He wanted to hurt McBride. That part was clear. But how did he plan to do it? He was damned original in his scheming. That worried McBride the most. As fairly simple as most of his challenges had been, McBride was certain he could be a master at this if he wanted.

That list Pierce suggested, and Grace had reminded him about, nudged its way into his thoughts. It would be damned short. There was his mother and father, whom he barely knew anymore. And there was Grace. Fincher had mentioned her in a couple of his e-mails. Fear coiled in McBride’s gut, constricted his chest. That was where Fincher would strike. Even the idea of it made McBride sick to his stomach.

“Agent McBride.”

Hearing the title attached to his name startled him. “Yeah, Schaffer. What’ve you got?”

“Agent Pierce wanted me to give you Worth’s collection of files on the Devoted Fan investigation.”

“Great.” He accepted the folders. “Thanks.”

He dropped the stack onto the table and went in search of Grace. How long did it take to get coffee? Even if she’d had to make it, it should be done by now. He didn’t want her out of his sight.

She wasn’t in the lounge. No coffee had been brewed. He checked the ladies’ room and the men’s room. Then every office on the floor.

The unthinkable possibility that something had already gone wrong started to leach into his bones. He fought it back; refused to even consider it. They were in the FBI field office, surrounded by an iron fence with an armed guard at the gate. It took a key card to get inside and a dozen armed agents were milling about in here.

“Have you seen Grace?” McBride asked Aldridge when he passed him in the corridor.

“Not since I was in the conference room.”