Page 38 of Facing the Enemy
Smoke interpreted and faced me. “If they haven’t responded to your other questions, they won’t now either.”
And they didn’t. “My work is to find out why the sisters were murdered and if the deaths are connected to the missing baby.”
Zero response. But I read the apprehension in their body language.
I gave each of them a business card to call me if they learned anything.
Hai’s missing baby could have roots in a Vietnamese gang, a separate crime, or the same kidnappers as the Addingtons’ baby. I’d not find any answers today. I sent a prayer upward, a rarity, but Risa’s situation, Jack’s stabbing, missing babies, and the days creeping closer to Christmas told me I needed supernatural help.
21
RISA
Gage’s and my flight left Houston for Santa Fe at 2p.m. and not soon enough to suit me. Checking baggage for one or two nights stay made no sense, but I couldn’t pack an unloaded Glock and ammunition in a carry-on, only a checked, locked container according to TSA regulations. If we were detained at the Santa Fe Regional Airport for luggage, Gage would know in an instant I’d brought my firearm.
Investigating a crime meant an uncertain future, which always held surprises, and in the FBI, that meant danger. Still, I had little choice but to leave my Glock behind. If I ran into trouble on this trip, then I knew how to get my hands on a gun. I tossed together a few belongings and toiletries for two days.
A taxi would pick me up in an hour, and it sounded like a week. I tried to wait and be productive on my phone, but patience wasn’t a class I excelled in at college or Quantico. I rechecked my memorized questions for Carson with the anticipation of asking them by nightfall. And anticipating answers. The typical who, what, where, when, and why held importance. But the motive for targeting me and not Gage or another agent bubbled to the surface.
Gage and I were partners. Or had been. Nothing emerged in the way of interviews or searching for evidence without the other’sknowledge. Once I had moved beyond the awkwardness of being with Gage again, I could set the stage for open communication, like before.
Visions of the real Carson Lowell nudged me. When had my judge of character fallen to ground zero? I questioned if Carson sold or used drugs, but I hadn’t seen any indication of that in class or in his writing. Here I thought returning to academia would help me heal. Teaching on a college level, especially creative writing, had given me an opportunity to positively influence the future leaders on a small scale.
As a much younger woman, I entered the world of publication with short mysteries. Then I veered off to a doctorate in English and on to the FBI. My education and experience had helped me understand myself, others, and the ever-changing world. My brain absorbed the sciences, and I’d done well, but the concept of studying people was much more fascinating. While in the FBI, I’d written a few short stories, some completed, some that needed editing, and some would never see the light of day. A passion I never intended to let go. Writing helped me process the good and the ugly.
I longed to be back with the bureau, and one day it might happen. A professor much more dedicated and competent than I could take these kids to the next level in their careers. While I reveled in the satisfaction of urging them to grow their skills, I failed to see teaching as my lifelong career.
I glanced at the time. The taxi would pick me up in fifteen minutes, and my excitement meter to step into an investigation soared. I grabbed my carry-on and purse before heading to the elevator. The idea of finding Carson and establishing the truth both motivated and frightened me.
On board the flight to Santa Fe, I fastened my seat belt for the two-hour flight, more than furious with Gage. He’d arranged for us to sit side by side on the plane. So much for keeping him safe, although he didn’t know the truth behind my actions. Gage wore nerd glasses and a bright-red sweatshirt with a moose on the front. He showed me how to press the moose’s nose that activated battery-operated lights around the antlers. He softened my fury and had me laughing.
“Your control side is showing,” I said.
His blue-gray eyes widened, drowning me in their depths. Would I be able to focus on him and not crave his lips on mine? “You mean booking a seat beside you with my moose?”
“Exactly.” If I admitted the truth, I relished the idea of spending two hours with him beside me, our shoulders touching, basking in his voice, and the scent of him filling my nostrils. I sounded like a character in a romance novel. The saying was true—absence makes the heart grow fonder.
“We’re going to spend a lot of hours together over the next two days,” he said. “How do you feel about it?”
Had he been reading my mind? “Thinking I’d like to punch you.”
“You’ll get over it.” He smirked, drawing on my previous irritation.
“Do you ever get rattled, lose your temper?”
A shadow passed over his face and quickly fled. I’d seen a glimpse of an off-limits topic in the past, but I hadn’t pursued it. Always happened around the holidays.
“I’m the typical cool, calm, and collected guy. You haven’t answered my question. You know the one, the one you’re avoiding. Like, Gage, really great to see you.”
I read more in what he didn’t say. “Crazy for answers. Honestly, I’ve missed you—the conversation, laughter, late nights, bad fast food, lousy coffee, and the satisfaction of cuffing the subject of an investigation.”
“Anything else?” he said, his tone wistful.
My heart thumped like a puppy’s tail on steroids. “I’m sure there is. All selfishness on my part.”
“This weekend might cause you to reverse your resignation. We’re a better team than Frodo and Sam.”
“I’m not a hobbit. When I showered this morning, my feet weren’t hairy, and my ears hadn’t grown. I’m sure Jack will be a welcome sight on Monday.”
