Genius is more often found
in a cracked pot than in a whole one.
—E. B. White
17
JT and I spent the rest of the day
following Patty Yates’s every last movement from the day she died,
talking to everyone and anyone we could—people on the street, the
employees of the hair salon she’d been about to enter before she’d
collapsed, her friends, family, the people at the gym she visited
irregularly. What we had: Patty hadn’t complained of any illness
before she’d died; she hadn’t appeared sick; she was, in fact, in
great health. She and her husband were trying to conceive a
baby—thus the need for the Cialis. Unlike the other victims, Patty
Yates didn’t work outside the home. She was a stay-at-home wife who
kept to herself, had no close friends, preferred to stay inside her
house, and didn’t seem to have any enemies.
In other words, we had
nothing.
Both agreeing that we were spinning our
wheels, we decided to call it a day and head back to the house to
review our case and decide our next step. JT drove, as always. I
rode shotgun. For the first half of the ride, we were both quiet,
lost in our thoughts.
I broke the silence with a question
that had been weighing heavily on my mind. “You are going to behave
yourself tonight, aren’t you?”
JT looked slightly wounded by my
question. “Of course, I am. I always behave myself. What are you
trying to say?”
Uncomfortable with the conversation—I
am so bad at confrontation—I shifted nervously in my seat. “I’m
trying to say the house is wired. You told me that yourself. And
there will be—how many, dozens?—of people listening in on our
conversations.”
“I guess you’d better keep that in mind
then. No dirty talk.” He winked.
I smacked him. I think he liked it. So
I smacked him again, harder. “I’m being serious here. You’re an
agent. I’m an intern. There are rules about that kind of
thing.”
The car rolled to a stop as we hit a
wall of rush-hour traffic. He gave me what could probably pass for
a reassuring look. The slightly evil gleam in his eye was the only
thing that spoiled the effect. “I told you, the chief said she
doesn’t care what we do in our personal relationships, as long as
we don’t bring it into the office.”
“And you think having our personal
conversations taped isn’t ‘bringing it into the
office’?”
The car in front of us moved a foot. JT
inched the car forward. “There are ways to avoid having any
condemning conversations being taped. Even though we stepped up the
security, we didn’t bug every room.” JT and
the lady in the Mercedes on our right exchanged impolite gestures.
Evidently, she thought our lane belonged to her, and she didn’t
appreciate the fact that we were in her way. “Oh, and by the way,
we didn’t just wire the house with microphones. We also planted
cameras.”
“Of course, you did.” I was suddenly
feeling a little exposed. I imagined a dozen people gawking at me
as I shaved my legs this morning. My stomach twisted into a knot.
“Please tell me there’s no camera in the bathroom.”
JT blocked the Mercedes from moving
into our lane again. “There’s no camera in the bathroom.” He gunned
the engine, closing the distance between our bumper and the van in
front of us.
“Thank God.” I braced my hands against
the dash, preparing for impact.
JT stomped on the brake just as we were
about to slam into the van. I exhaled for the first time in
minutes. He said, “The equipment’s mostly set around doors and
windows, access points to the interior. There are also some in the
main living area and the bedroom, where you were sleeping last
night.”
“You said, ‘mostly.’”
“Yeah. We also put a camera in the
basement and around the exterior. Nobody’s getting in without being
caught on camera.” He checked his rearview mirror, jerked the
steering wheel, and then hit the gas, sending us lurching into the
left lane, which was moving a little faster. Our speed bumped up to
ten miles per hour instead of five.
Despite JT’s aggressive driving, my gut
untwisted. There was no way I’d be surprised by a nighttime visitor
again. “That part is reassuring.”
“So, you see, that leaves plenty of
other rooms where we can have a conversation without having to
worry about eyes and ears.”
My gut twisted back into the knot.
“That may be, but ...”
The car rolled to a stop once again,
and JT looked at me. “What are you worried about,
Sloan?”
I met his gaze and my heart did a
little flip-flop. What was I worrying about? JT was incredibly
good-looking, and he seemed to like me. No, he seemed to do more
than that. He’d held me so tightly last night, like a man who was
worried. He comforted me. He protected me. He was the perfect man.
And yet, I had a very good reason for being cautious. Not only was
I worried about what a relationship with JT might do to my
professional reputation, but I was bothered about something else,
something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
“This wouldn’t be the first time an
agent and an intern hooked up.” The car in front of us surged
forward, and JT hit the gas. The car smoothly accelerated as the
traffic cleared at last.
I turned to stare out the window. “I’m
sure it’s not the first time.” Maybe that was what I was worried
about. JT was so flirtatious, charming, and handsome—surely, he’d
had this opportunity before. Probably he had a new intern every
summer. A new plaything. “Would it be the first time for you?” I
asked, hoping he’d say yes; and hoping, if he did say yes, that he
was telling me the truth.
“ No.”
I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut.
“I was afraid of that,” I mumbled.
“What do you think of me?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to tell
him, partly because it seemed so easy to think a certain way about
him, but it wouldn’t be easy to say the words. We were getting
closer to the house, and soon we’d be under the watchful eye of a
team of FBI agents and their little techy
whatchamacallits.
JT poked my knee. “Let me guess, you
think I chase all the interns, drag them into my bed, use them
mercilessly, and break their hearts.” It wasn’t a question. It was
a statement. One said with absolutely no hint of
malice.
“Well ...”
“It’s not like that. There was one.
Only one. It was my first month out of the academy. And it almost
got me fired.”
“And you think it’s a good idea goofing
around with me? The way I see it, that’s one for one. 100%. You’ve
only been an agent for a year.”
JT checked the traffic in the right
rearview mirror and cut across two lanes to catch our exit ramp. At
the stop sign at the end of the ramp, he said, “That just goes to
show you... . This isn’t something I jump into lightly. I care
about you.”
He cared about me? He cared.
A part of me knew that. It was the way
he held me when I was scared. But hearing the words did something
to my insides. I didn’t know how to respond. Men didn’t say those
words very often. Especially to me. They might flirt. They might
tease. They might marvel at my math skills or compliment my
knowledge of comparative biology. But they didn’t say they
cared about me. “I ... uh ...” Did he really
mean it? I looked at him.
He was driving now, eyes on the road,
but he slanted them my way for a moment. Our gazes snagged. I saw
no hint of deception. In fact, I could swear I spied something
else—vulnerability ? His gaze snapped back to the road before I
could figure it out.
Neither of us said anything for the
rest of the drive.
He parked the car in the attached
garage. I shuffled around the car, brushing past him as he pulled
the door leading into the house open for me. I mumbled, “Thanks”;
then I headed for the kitchen. My cell phone rang.
“Hi, Mom,” I said, looking at the
caller ID.
“Hi, honey.” That voice wasn’t Mom’s.
She was a female. The voice definitely belonged to a male. The
hairs on my arms stood on end.
“Who is this?” I snapped. I glanced
around, looking for JT. Where’d he go?
“It’s okay. It’s just me,
Gabe.”
“You?” I sagged against the kitchen
counter. “How did you get my mom’s phone number to show up on my
caller ID?”
“Shush. Just listen. Are there ears
listening in?”
“Uh, maybe.”
“Okay, just keep talking like I’m your
mother.”
“Sure, Mom,” I said, wondering if his
cover wasn’t already blown.
He continued, “I didn’t want my phone
number showing on your phone. In case ... well, in case something
comes up. I used a spoofing service. Any word on the
sample?”
“No, Mom.” I checked the clock. I’d
forgotten all about it. JT had said it would be done by now, but he
hadn’t mentioned it today. I wondered if that whole thing had been
a lie, a way to get the sample back for the chief. “I’ll have to
check into that for you.”
“I think someone’s hiding
something.”
“It’s possible.” I dug out a diet cola
from the back of the refrigerator.
“Be careful. I’m not sure we can trust
any of them. Something’s fishy about this whole
thing.”
“Please don’t worry about me, Mom. I’ll
be fine.” Suddenly I wasn’t so sure about that. I wanted to know
what was making Gabe think the way he did, but I didn’t want to ask
when I was standing in the kitchen, where there were cameras and
microphones to catch my every word. I headed toward the nearest
bathroom, around the corner, off the narrow hallway leading to the
front foyer. “There’s someone staying with me in the house
now.”
“Who?”
“A nice agent. He’s ... being a
gentleman. Don’t worry.”
“Let me guess. It’s JT ?”
What was that I heard in Gabe’s voice?
“Yes, that’s the one.” I closed myself in the bathroom—smaller than
the coat closet in the foyer—and turned on the water.
“What’s that noise?”
“Running water. I don’t want anyone to
overhear me.” I cupped my hand around my phone and spoke
softly.
“Good idea.”
“Why did you say this looks fishy? Is
something going on that I’m not seeing? Everyone seems to be
working hard, trying to solve the cases.”
“Yeah, they do.”
“And they have a lot to prove, because
the PBAU is sort of a joke to the people who know about
it.”
“Sure.”
“So what’s wrong? Are they keeping you
at a distance, withholding evidence?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t know. I can’t say
exactly.”
“I think you’ve been hanging around my
mother too much.”
“I haven’t seen your mother in
years.”
I heard something outside the bathroom,
footsteps, a thump. “I need to go.”
“Be careful, Sloan. You and I have had
our issues, but I’ve always respected you. Hell, I’ve admired you
for years, if you want to know the truth. I would hate to see
something happen to you.”
Was this the day for men to make
surprising confessions, or what? “Thanks. That’s very
touching.”
“I don’t trust JT. There’s something
about him.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t either. Not 100%.
But I also know there are cameras all over this place, and a team
of men outside watching the feed. Nobody’s doing anything to me
without them knowing about it.”
“Okay.”
JT knocked. “Sloan, are you
okay?”
“I’m fine. Just talking to my
mother.”
“Call me if you need
anything.”
“Will do.” I cut off the call. Then,
because I was in the bathroom, I checked myself in the mirror. I
decided I looked good, which was probably a bad thing, and stuffed
my cell phone in my pocket.
JT was leaning against the wall when I
exited. “Everything okay?”
“Yes. That was my mom. She’s not used
to me being away from her like this.”
“She relies upon you.”
“Maybe a little.”
He gave me a knowing look.
“How much do you know about my family?”
I asked.
“Enough to appreciate the fact that
you’re not telling the whole truth.”
I felt my cheeks heating and tried to
hide my embarrassment and discomfort with a little dose of sarcasm.
“Sheesh. What happened to confidentiality?”
“What I know I didn’t get from a bureau
file.”
“Oh.”
He moved toward the bathroom. “Come
here.”
I watched as he filled the diminutive
space with his bulk. I didn’t follow him into the bathroom. There
wasn’t room. “Um ... I don’t think we’re both going to
fit.”
He pulled, and I stumbled inside. He
shut the door behind my back, closing us in. The pedestal sink was
on my left. I steadied myself by gripping the lip of the basin. The
toilet was on my right, the edge of the seat grinding into the side
of my leg. JT was in front of me, his body brushing against mine.
The scent of JT’s tangy cologne mixed with the odor of the soap’s
fruity fragrance. It wasn’t an altogether bad
combination.
I backed up as much as I could,
smooshing my butt against the closed door. “What are you
doing?”
He leaned close, closer. I was sure he
was going to kiss me. Here we were, in this cozy spot, outside of
the range of the cameras and microphones. Just like he wanted. I
didn’t want him to kiss me. No, I did. Didn’t. Did. Oh, hell, I
didn’t know what I wanted. I pressed hard against the door, closed
my eyes, and waited....
“I got the results,” he whispered in my
ear.
He wanted to talk. And here I’d thought
... I felt so stupid. I snapped my eyelids up.
“Results?”
“The DNA analysis. I just got a call
from my friend. The analysis took longer than he
thought.”
“Yeah? And?”
“They’re strange. The unsub’s DNA isn’t
human. Or rather, it’s not just human. There
are a few extra genes.”
“A few extra?” I echoed, recalling what
Gabe had said about the initial results. “How is that
possible?”
“I don’t know. But there are quite a
few extra. Either the sample was tainted with foreign DNA or our
unsub is part insect.”
I tried to imagine what a human being
with insect DNA might look like. The results weren’t pretty. “It
must be tainted, then. Because I’m sure we’d notice somebody
walking around with big compound bug eyes, antennae protruding out
of his head, wings, or an extra set of arms.”
“Unless she can change from one form to
the other.”
“You said, ‘she’?”
“You were right. The unsub’s a female.
Good call. The overall results might be a little shaky, but the
gender isn’t in question.”
I couldn’t help grinning. Maybe I was a
better FBI agent than I thought. Maybe I could solve this case.
“Okay, so we know we’re looking for a female. What do you think
about the insect thing?”
“I think we need to do some reading
tonight. So, if you had any thoughts about ... you know”—he
winked—“that’ll have to wait. We have work to do.” Before I
realized what he was doing, his mouth was hovering over mine. Our
lips touched, briefly, too briefly. A surge of electricity buzzed
through my whole body. And the next thing I knew, I was staggering
out of the bathroom, my fingertips pressed to my tingling lips.
That was the shortest, softest kiss I’d ever had. It probably
didn’t even qualify as a kiss. And yet my whole body was on
fire.
God help me if JT ever really kissed me.
JT, who seemed totally unfazed, strode
toward the kitchen. He said nothing about our research as he made
each of us a sandwich. He carted our food into the family room,
plopped onto the couch, and turned on the TV. “I had the cable
turned on. Thought it might come in handy while we’re
here.”
I followed him after helping myself to
another diet cola from the fridge. “The bureau’s sure going to a
lot of expense.”
“No, I paid for
the cable, not the bureau.” He took a bite of his sandwich and
channel surfed.
I wasn’t a big TV watcher, but I sat
beside him. My plate rested in my lap.
“If nothing else, the noise will let
anyone out there know the house is occupied. Last night, you had
most of the lights off—no radio, no TV. It looked
abandoned.”
“That didn’t stop whoever, or whatever,
that was from paying me a visit.”
“Hmm.” He stuffed his mouth full of
sandwich again.
“We haven’t had any new victims since
Saturday. That’s the longest gap we’ve seen. Do you think the unsub
has moved on to a new hunting ground?” I picked at my
sandwich.
“No. I don’t think she’s left the
area.”
“Do you think she’s stopped? How will
we catch her if she’s not hunting?”
“First, I don’t believe she’s stopped.
I don’t think she can. And second, it’s not our job to catch her.
Only to profile her and help the police identify suspects.” He
pointed at my plate. It was full. His was almost empty. “Aren’t you
going to eat?”
I lifted my sandwich. “Sure, I’m
eating. At a normal pace. Didn’t your mother ever tell you it isn’t
good to cram your mouth full of food?”
He grinned. “Nope.”
I took a normal-sized bite to
illustrate. Chewed. Swallowed. “That is the proper way to
eat.”
“If I ate like that, I’d have starved
to death as a kid.”
“Really? Why?”
“My older brother ate everything in
sight. My mother would bring home the groceries, and Steve would
have half the food gone by that night. She only shopped once a
week. I learned at an early age to eat when the eating was good.
Because the dry spells were easier to weather if I had a little
extra meat on my bones. It’s nature’s way. Survival of the fittest,
right?”
“Wow, JT. That sounds
rough.”
“We all have our stories, don’t we?” He
smiled and winked. “I’m going to head up and do some reading.” He
left me with the remote, the television tuned to a baseball game,
and practically a whole sandwich yet to eat.
A little while later, I found him in an
empty spare bedroom, sitting on the floor, his back resting against
the wall, his laptop on his legs. “So far, I’ve found one
possibility. The Philippine mandurugo. But
I’m not done looking. It wouldn’t be common to this area, or this
climate. But it has insectlike qualities.”
I stepped into the room, but I didn’t
stray far from the entry. “What are you talking
about?”
“A vampire.”
“So we’re back to
vampires?”
“Do you have another explanation for
the DNA findings?”
“Sure. The sample was tainted. Maybe
the victim had swatted a mosquito and some of its DNA was left on
her neck? This is summertime. Mosquitoes are everywhere. And, when
you think about it, living out here, by woods and parks, would mean
the likelihood of being bitten would be pretty high.”
“Hmm. You make a good argument. Maybe
my friend needs to do some more work on the sample. See if he can
isolate the insect DNA and identify what species it
is.”
“That would be a good
idea.”
“I’ll give him a call tomorrow.” He
scrolled down on the screen. He was reading a Wikipedia page on
vampire legend. “Listen to this, ‘The mandurugo
... takes the form of an attractive girl by day, and
develops wings and a long, hollow, thread-like tongue by night. The
tongue is used to suck up blood from a sleeping victim.’” He turned
narrowed eyes toward me. “Hmm.”
“What?”
“Maybe I won’t sleep in the same room
with you tonight.”
“Are you suggesting ... ?” I smacked
him. He laughed. So I smacked him again. And again. And again. The
fifth time, he caught my wrist as I was lifting it and did a tricky
maneuver. I found myself flat on my back, with my hand pinned to
the floor over my head. JT was on his knees, straddling my body. My
other hand was free, so I made a show of fighting him off. It
didn’t work. In fact, my struggling seemed to make things worse.
Eventually he had both my wrists caught in one fist and was resting
much of his weight upon me. It was no easy feat getting a good
lungful of air, and that wasn’t entirely due to the pressure of his
body on my rib cage.
“Uncle,” I mumbled.
He gently smoothed my hair out of my
face. “If you really want to have a career in the bureau, you need
to take some self-defense classes.”
“I’ll be sure to sign up for one first
thing tomorrow morning.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “You
promise?”
“Absolutely.”
He climbed off. I wasn’t 100 percent
happy about that. But it was, without a doubt, the best thing he
could have done.
“Time for bed.” I beat a hasty retreat,
waving over my shoulder as he hurried toward the door after
me.
“Good night,” he called to my
back.
“Good night,” I echoed, wondering what
kind of dreams I would have tonight.