But being in the investigation room felt different.
I was in the center of it all.
Like standing in the eye of a hurricane. One would think that a person would be destroyed being in the center of the storm, but the eye was the calmest place on a hurricane. The eye was the focus—the point where the rest of the storm rotated and where the lowest surface pressures were found. Above the eye, skies were clear, and winds were light. However, the position gave the perfect view for all the destruction happening around it.
And with the Angel Maker gifting the FBI with the Fullbrooke six’s bodies, more would surely come. This town would not survive more dead little girls. The place was heating up with rage and fear—two things that never went well together. The Fullbrooke black community was a proud, hard-working bunch. Many marched in the civil rights protests. Most fought for voting, equal housing, and other things that made my childhood easier. There was only so much this community would take without tearing up the streets.
We must find this guy before more girls are lost and people start taking out their own means of justice.
I thought back to what Alexander King had said.
“I have enough nightmares. Your death is not another one I want to add to the list.”
King thought I was weak and would get in the way.
Something fragile.
I would prove him wrong and show him how much of an asset I was to this task force.
I was going to find the Angel Maker and get his psycho ass out of my town.
Chapter 3
An Unnecessary Distraction
Alexander
Haven Barron.
Her file had told me many things about her. Four degrees—double major in Psychology and Criminal Studies, Master’s in forensic psychology, Doctorate in Criminology. She had a high solving rate too, almost perfect. At thirty-five, she was already a legend in the Bureau. No field time, but her work spoke for itself.
Whispers about her had floated through every area of Quantico. There wasn’t a test the woman didn’t ace. Wasn’t a drill she didn’t nail. She’d graduated at the top of her class. Then been swooped up by Missing Persons the next day. She had worked difficult cases over the years, busted her ass and proven that she knew how to catch monsters better than anybody.
Haven Barron would be a benefit to any unit.
But the file didn’t say how beautiful she was, or how much of a distraction she could be.
It wasn’t fair to think this way. Barron couldn’t control the soft glow of that rich brown skin. It wasn’t her fault that she’d been blessed with those big, gorgeous brown eyes that widened with annoyance when she got angry. Her silky hair was pulled back in a long ponytail.
I imagined the feel of those strands on my fingers.
She was too enchanting for this case.
She must go home.
I frowned.
Was it her fault that her sweet scent had hit me first before I turned and caught her view? Was it her problem that the curve of her frame and the tone of her voice had triggered heated thoughts in my mind?
We were in a time when men had to be accountable and less cavemen. Time’s up and all that. Men had to act accordingly, treat women with respect, and see them as equals.
But she wasn’t equal. She was a breathtaking creature that needed protection. Soft and delicate. She had no business so close to a case like this.
What would she do when she walked up on the corpse of a precious little girl? How would it bruise her soul?
Sitting at my desk, I watched Haven through my office window. Stein hadn’t left her or Agent Tina Richards’ side yet. No doubt, he felt that same animal attraction and didn’t want to walk away.
For these last years, we’d been staring at dead bodies and crying family members. I was sure it felt good to have two sweet smelling women in the office. Unfortunately, I hadn’t even got a good look at our new profiler Tina. I was too enraged with Haven and her not heeding my warning.
I grabbed my pen and tapped it on the desk. Intrigue and annoyance mingled within my core. I did like that she had strong community ties here. Barron could open doors that had previously been closed to us. With her, we may be able to solve the case faster than expected and prevent a new set of girls from being taken.
No one was sure if the Angel Maker was done or not, but I feared that he was just beginning. He liked the news’ attention too much—loved the flash of cameras and the excitement coming to his town.
Haven Barron may have gone to school with the Angel Maker.
I thought of Reverend Thompson and his son.
She may have dated the Angel Maker or gone to his house to eat dinner.
Many thought Thompson or his people had something to do with the girls’ murders. I found it to be too obvious.
No. We’re missing something. We must keep looking.
This was more complicated then pinning the murders on the most racist white guy in town. If the Angel Maker wasn’t caught, he would keep on going. So many more girls would die. I had to get this right. There could be no mishaps or errors.
Through the glass window, I caught Barron laughing and tossing the end of her ponytail over her shoulders. Apparently, Stein had made a joke that Barron and Richards were both tickled with.
This is a goddamn place of investigation. We’re on a case, not enjoying happy hour.
I rose from the desk and grabbed my keys.
A damn distraction. Barron may have ties to Fullbrooke, but she’ll also have my men wrapped around her manicured fingers. It’s best to get what I can from her and then send her back to D.C.
I headed to the door, opened it, and marched out. “Let’s go.”
Stein raised his eyebrows. “Just me?”
“All of you.” I gestured to Richards and Barron. “Let’s see what the newbies have to offer. Maybe they can put us on a new path.”
Shock hit Stein’s face. “You want the new people to come along?”
“Let’s go.” I marched out, aggravated with the excitement that covered Barron’s expression.
Oh, you’re just ready to start sleuthing, huh? Well. . .you’ll find that being out on the field is not as fun as you think. The blood smells different than it does from a photo.
Surprisingly, Barron got to my side. Her perfume filled the air around me, making me think of fine dining and dancing with an elegant woman. That wasn’t what should’ve been on my mind.
My frown deepened. “Have you familiarized yourself with the case?”
“Yes. Director King gave copies of all the files.”
What did Dad think about her, and why didn’t he prepare me?
My back stiffened. “You met with Director King?”
“Yes.”
“What did you think?” I opened the door for her.
She looked at me. “Uh. . .he’s a reserved man, but. . .brilliant.”
“Brilliant,” I muttered as I followed her out of the office. “And was he excited about your appointment to the unit?”
“As excited as you were.”
Father hated pretty girls getting dirtied in crime. Gentleman or chauvinist, I never really understood how he saw women.
My mother represented the traditional type—dutiful housewife. Cooking, cleaning, and taking care of me. Father flew all over the country, solving cases and keeping America safe. We saw him when we could. To me, he was my hero. It was one of the main reasons why I’d made the FBI my dream. I wanted to get closer to him. I needed to make him proud.