A Profiler's Case for Seduction(57)

Mark realized this wasn’t so much an ass-chewing or briefing as it was a motivational meeting. The feel in the room was tired, dispirited, and nothing had come to light in the past week to buoy the agents’ flagging spirits. Joseph had whispered earlier that he thought this perp had beaten them, that they were never going to solve these crimes. He’d given voice to what Mark suspected the others felt.

There had never been a real trail to follow and now with Troy Young out of the mix they didn’t have anyone on a short list of potential suspects.

Mark was still convinced of his theory of the crime, that Melinda Grayson had staged her kidnapping with a male partner and had somehow played a role in the murders, but nobody wanted to listen to him.

He’d been shut down by his teammates, who he could tell were frustrated with him because he hadn’t come up with any other viable theory of the murders. They didn’t want to hear any more of his feelings where Melinda Grayson was concerned. As far as they were concerned she was a separate victim of a different crime.

There had been moments in the past week when Mark thought maybe his teammates were right and he was not only losing his mind to an obsession about the professor, but also losing his touch as a profiler.

For the first time in his work, he felt like a failure. The only thing that had kept him from plunging into depression the past week had been Dora.

He’d spent a little bit of time with her each night, not talking about work but rather talking about music and movies and good books. She was a puzzle he put together with each bit of information he gleaned.

She loved reading romance novels, letting him know that there was someplace inside her that still clung to the idea of a happily-ever-after. She loved old rock-and-roll music, especially the ballads about angels and teens...the kind of music meant for slow dancing and holding tight.

“Mark!”

His attention was snapped back to the present as he blinked and looked at Richard. “Sorry, what was the question?”

“I asked you if you’ve come up with anything more on the note left on your car and the threat to your well-being?”

“Well, the good news is I’m still alive,” Mark replied. Everyone laughed and some of the tension slid out of the room. “Nobody has taken any shots at me, no mysterious cars have tried to run me over and I haven’t sensed anything out of the usual around me.”

“I don’t want you dropping your guard for a minute,” Richard replied.

“Don’t worry, I have no intention of being taken off guard,” Mark said. He’d been careful lately, constantly checking his surroundings, monitoring any people who might get too close. His gun only left his body at night when he slept, and even then it was within reach on the nightstand.

“And still no ideas who might have left it for you?” Richard asked.

Mark hesitated only a beat and then shook his head. The truth was he had some suspicions about who might have left the note, but he didn’t intend to share his instincts with the rest of the team because it went back to his theory of a guilty Melinda.

He’d given a lot of thought to the note left on his car. Whoever had written it had known that Troy Young wasn’t guilty, which implied the writer might know something about who was guilty. There were few people in the town who would write a note of warning to Mark rather than to Agent Flynn.

With startled surprise he realized the meeting had ended and everyone was leaving the room, apparently assigned by Richard to specific tasks.

Richard remained in the room and sank down next to Mark, his weariness showing on the lines that appeared deeper in his skin and the pallor that had taken over his complexion.

“The tail on Andrew Peterson has been pulled off,” Richard said. “According to the sheriff, he can’t justify one of his men tailing a person who has no known connection to the crimes, a man who for the past week has gone to work in the morning and then home every night.”

Mark frowned. He wasn’t convinced that Andrew Peterson wasn’t the man in the videos of Melinda, that the history teacher wasn’t Melinda’s partner in Mark’s nightmares.

“Give me something, Mark,” Richard said in a low voice. “Give me anything that we can work with.”

Mark looked at his friend and mentor in frustration. “I can’t give you what I don’t have. I can tell you what you don’t want to hear, what everyone refuses to believe, but I’m not pretending to toe the company line here.”