When the call from Solomon came a couple of hours later, Noah Hunter got up from his desk and quickly walked down the hallway. He should have gone straight to Solomon’s office, but instead he headed for the bathroom. He was grateful to find it empty. He walked up to one of the sinks and stared into the mirror that hung over it. How could he wind up with this assignment? Big brother to an agent with possible mental problems. Someone who shares meals with serial killers. He shook his head. Rumor was that Special Agent Cartwright had fled the city just to get away from her.
In Noah’s wildest dreams it would have never occurred to him that he would be the next agent assigned to her. Most of the other agents snickered behind her back, calling her Jessica Elephant. Not just because they knew her history and her real name but also because once she saw a crime scene she seemed able to recall everything—even down to the smallest detail. Maybe she had some all-consuming desire to rid the world of killers like her father, but that wasn’t Noah’s problem.
“So now what?” he asked his image in the mirror. He didn’t really know Kaely Quinn. Had nothing against her personally. He’d come from Quantico ready to use what he’d learned to make the world better. Now he was nothing more than a glorified babysitter. He swore softly. Then he turned on the cold water and slapped some on his face, hoping he’d wake up and find he’d imagined all of this. But of course, he hadn’t.
As he continued to gaze at himself, he considered his options. Was there a way out? Maybe Special Agent Quinn would reject him. It was possible, but how would Solomon react? He was tough but fair. Would he have mercy? Or would he be angry? A voice from somewhere deep inside answered his question. When Solomon gave an order, he expected it to be followed. Period. Noah shook his head. Maybe this would be over quickly. They’d find out the threat wasn’t real. But somewhere in his gut, he knew differently. There was something about that strange poem. The anger behind it was palpable. Frightening.
Noah closed his eyes for a moment. Then he let out a breath to steady himself. There was only one thing to do. Obey his orders. Track down the letter writer. Bring this threat to a conclusion. He could already hear the teasing comments he’d get from his SWAT team members. He had no choice. He’d have to hang on and ride this out.
He stood up, straightened his shoulders, and used a paper towel to pat his face dry. Then he walked out of the bathroom and headed to Solomon’s office. Nathan Walker was waiting in the outer office. He stood up when Noah walked in and nodded at him.
“Go on in,” Grace said. “He’s expecting the two of you.”
Noah knocked on Solomon’s door before opening it. Solomon waved them in. In front of them, Solomon signed a chain-of-evidence log, then pushed it toward Noah, who signed it and gave it to Walker. Every time the letter changed hands, the log would be signed, which helped to keep track of important evidence. At Quantico, when the letter went to someone who was charged with testing it, the log would be signed again. The Bureau would keep a record of every single person who came in contact with the letter.
“Keep me updated,” Noah told Walker.
“I will,” Walker said. He took the letter, put it into a special briefcase he’d brought with him, and left the room.
“Kaely’s waiting for you in the conference room,” Solomon told him.
He nodded and left the office. The conference room was around the corner. The door was shut, so he knocked lightly. From inside, a voice said, “Come in.”
When he pushed the door open, he saw Kaely Quinn sitting at the conference table, a pile of folders in front of her. It was difficult to believe she was an FBI agent. Kaely was small. At first glance, you’d think she was a teenager, not in her mid-thirties. She’d taken off her jacket and wore a sleeveless blouse with her black slacks. The muscles in her arms were clearly defined. She was in tip-top shape. Curly auburn-hued hair had been tugged into a bun. Several strands had successfully fought to escape captivity.
As she tilted her head up to look at him, he noticed her pert nose and soft, full lips. He’d never really studied her closely, but he suddenly felt as if the breath was sucked out of his body. Her eyes captured his attention. Deep, dark pools full of something that grabbed you and tried to pull you in. For a brief second, when she’d first looked at him, he’d noticed something. A flash of vulnerability.
In that moment, he was suddenly transported back to his childhood. His father had taken him hunting with his buddies. A rite of passage. Noah had been excited to be a part of the group, but when the moment came and he stared into the eyes of the deer he was supposed to kill, he couldn’t do it. Sensing his hesitation, one of the other men brought it down. Although Noah laughed it off at the time, playing along with the men who were celebrating their “kill,” he cried himself to sleep that night. The next day, his father told Noah he’d decided he’d had enough of hunting and wondered if they could do something else together—maybe hiking. His father never acknowledged his son’s reaction to his one and only hunting experience, but they spent many happy days hiking in the hills of Colorado where Noah had grown up. He suspected his father was a little confused when his son joined the FBI, yet hunting criminals didn’t bother Noah. Pursuing bad guys was completely different than stalking innocent animals.
He slowed his breathing and tried to calm his pounding pulse. “Special Agent Noah Hunter,” he said. “Looks like we’re going to be working together.”
“I know who you are, Special Agent Hunter,” Quinn said in a light, almost musical voice. “Please, have a seat.”
Noah slid into a chair across the table from her. He waited for her to say something, but she seemed engrossed in a file open on the table. Her long, slender fingers tucked back a wild tuft of hair that had fallen across her smooth forehead. When she finally looked up, she appeared to study him. The sense of vulnerability was gone. Her eyes seemed to look straight through him, making him feel exposed and uncomfortable. What was it about this woman? Something else was brewing behind the façade. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. She had a no-nonsense reputation. From what other agents had told him, Quinn lived for her job—and nothing else. They insisted there wasn’t anything to her besides her obsessive commitment to the Bureau.
“You’ve been put in charge of this investigation,” she said, pushing a piece of paper toward him. Noah looked down and found a copy of the letter he’d seen in Solomon’s office. “I took a picture with my phone and made a copy so we’d have something to work with.”
He nodded. “Good. I understand Solomon believes this is a direct threat against you.”
“Well, actually, I think we need to focus on a potential serial killer who is about to hunt down people in St. Louis. I think that’s the most important thing, don’t you?”
Instead of answering her, he pointed at the files on the table. “What are you looking for?”
“Going through past cases. Seeing who might have something against me.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid the list is rather long, but as you probably know, behavioral analysts only help narrow down the field of possible UNSUBs. People associated with our victims or our perpetrators wouldn’t usually know anything about me.”
“What about the articles written by that reporter? Acosta?”
“That certainly could be the link. Acosta made it sound as if I single-handedly brought down every serial killer, arsonist, rapist, and terrorist over the past few years. It’s ridiculous.”
“So that opens it up to lots of possibilities,” Noah mused.
“We have a lot of work to do,” Kaely said simply. “And you would rather do anything else, right?”
He frowned at her. “No, of course not. If this is a serious threat . . .”
She slapped the file shut, cutting him off. “A partnership won’t work if you lie to me, Agent Hunter.”
Her response angered him. What did this woman want? He was doing the best he could under the circumstances. “I don’t see how you can possibly know how I feel, Agent Quinn.”
She leaned back in her chair. “I can tell by your body language. First of all, look at your feet.”
Surprised, he stared down at his shoes. What was she talking about?
“They’re pointed toward the door. You want nothing more than to get out of here. Also, you picked a chair as far away from me as you could. You’ve adjusted your collar twice since you sat down. That’s a pacifying gesture. You’re trying to soothe yourself. You’ve pursed your lips three times, and you’re pressing so hard on the arms of your chair, the tips of your fingers are white.”
“Are you profiling me?”
“No. That’s not profiling. That’s just reading people. Being observant.” She nodded toward the files in front of her. “Behavioral analysis allows us to identify some of the most evil people on this planet. That’s why I joined the Bureau. What about you? I’m pretty sure it isn’t because you get to wear those nice dark suits and those ties you hate so much.”
For a split second he thought about asking her how she knew he hated ties, but he didn’t. Most men felt the same way. Didn’t take any special insight to come to that conclusion.
“So, if watching physical reactions isn’t profiling, how is it used?” Although his intent was to get her off of reading him and on to something else, he found he really was interested in her answer.
“When law enforcement interviews witnesses or suspects, watching how they react can indicate if they’re telling us the truth. We all have certain behaviors that show what we’re really thinking. It doesn’t work all the time. It’s not an exact science. The way someone holds their mouth isn’t something we can take to court. We still need evidence, but the ability to know what someone is thinking can still be very valuable. I once determined that the suspect we had in a series of bombings in DC wasn’t our guy by reading his reactions to our questions. Although he came across as mostly truthful, I could tell he knew something. Sure enough, he led us to our bomber, even though he had nothing to do with actually setting off the explosions. Seems he helped make the bombs our terrorist wanted to use to kill thousands of American citizens.”
She folded her hands and fixed her gaze on him. “I believe it’s our job to use all the weapons in our arsenal to catch the monsters, Agent Hunter. And that’s what I do. I chase monsters. While we’re working together, I’d be happy to teach you a few things you might not know. But you’re in charge. However we work together is up to you.” She scooted forward in her chair and sought his eyes. “One thing I want to make clear: I don’t need a babysitter.”
Noah blinked several times and immediately wondered if he’d just sent another signal. This was going to be harder than he’d thought. “So you know Solomon is worried about your safety?”
She made a noise that was close to an actual laugh. “Reading people, remember?” She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Solomon Slattery is an incredible SAC. I’m honored to work under him. But he has two daughters, and he’s identifying me with them. He started not long after I arrived here. I’ve talked to him about it, and he denies it, but I know I’m right.” She waved her hand toward Noah. “I can’t change him. That’s just who he is.” She frowned. “Look, I really want to work with you on this case, but if you can’t do a good job because you’re distracted by me, I’ll ask Solomon to assign someone else. He might listen.”
Relief flooded through him. She’d just offered him a way out. He opened his mouth to accept her offer, but it was like someone else took over his words. “I . . . I guess I’d like to know more.”
“About?”
“About you. About what you do.”
It was the truth, but he hadn’t realized it until that moment. What would she say? He was surprised to see the corners of her mouth twitch.
“Okay, I’ll give you the same deal I gave Alex. You can ask me three questions. Anything you want. No limits. But after I answer them, you decide to commit to this, or I’ll ask Solomon to pick someone else to work with you. Do you agree?”
“I do.”
“Don’t hold back. You won’t get another chance.”
“I understand.” He hesitated. “What did Agent Cartwright ask?”
“Is that your first question?”
“No.”
“Then let’s move on.” She tapped her fingers on the table. “Before you start, I’d like to ask you something. Do you mind?”
“No, I guess not.”
Kaely riffled through the pile of folders and pulled one out. She opened it and took out a stack of pictures. She laid each one on the table in front of her, one right next to the other. Then she spun her chair toward the wall. “Please pick one picture. Keep it in your mind.”
“Is this some kind of trick?”
“No. You said you want to understand what I do. It’s an example of how to interpret physical actions and reactions. Our job is to find the truth. We need all the tools we can get to catch the bad guys.”
“Okay,” he said slowly, drawing out the word. He picked a picture. “I’ve chosen one.”
“When I turn around, please don’t be staring at the pictures. Look away.”
“Sure.” He swung his eyes toward a photo of the director of the FBI hanging on the wall.
Kaely’s chair swiveled in an arc until she faced him again. She gathered the pictures together and put them to her side. “I’ll come back to this later. Now you can ask your first question.”
Noah stared at her for a few moments, trying to decide what he really wanted to know. At the last second, he decided to be bold. After all, what did he have to lose?