“Yours is the voice that leads to justice,” Matt declared.
Wong nodded slowly. “There’s something off about this. I can’t quite figure out what it is.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “When I have both bodies here, maybe I’ll see it.”
“Keep me posted.”
“You heading this one up?”
Matt glanced at Adam and Meg as they moved down the hall toward the exit. “So it seems. Jackson Crow officially, but definitely our unit.” Jackson Crow spent long hours in the office. He was in charge of supervising the Krewe and overseeing the unit in New York. He coordinated data searches that came to them, organized specialized work as needed and kept his expert eye on every case in motion.
Since Matt had been summoned to the morgue that morning, he assumed he was now responsible for this one.
“I’ll call you immediately with anything I have,” Wong promised him.
Matt thanked him and hurried after the other two.
While Jackson Crow did the real supervisory work, Harrison was the creator of their unit and the overall head; Harrison dealt with the Bureau chief, mayors and other law enforcement—paving the way for Krewe members when that was needed. Adam and Jackson made a good team; Adam Harrison left Jackson Crow free to concentrate on the work at hand.
Matt had thought Adam and Meg would leave, but they were waiting for him, speaking quietly.
When he reached them, they left the building.
“What made you think your friend might have been one of the victims?” Matt asked.
“I received a strange message from her, saying that she was going home,” Meg replied.
Matt couldn’t help it; he raised his eyebrows at Adam. He said, in what he hoped was an even tone, “Then, perhaps, she has gone home.”
Meg Murray stiffened. He almost smiled. His reaction might be a whimsical one, but he felt she had the look of a dark-haired pagan queen—not a fledgling agent—at that moment. She might become a force to be reckoned with, if she wasn’t one already.
“She didn’t go home. I called her cell phone, her landline and her home in Virginia. She always has her cell—and she’s not answering it. Her parents have both passed away, but I’ve spoken with her aunt, who hasn’t heard from her, either. And now, of course, she’s worried, too.”
“But she might have taken a longer route...”
“Home could mean two other places,” she broke in, “aside from her apartment, and she’s definitely not there. Harpers Ferry is where she spent half her time, or it could mean Richmond, where her aunt lives. There is no route to Richmond or Harpers Ferry long enough to take all day,” Meg said tightly.
At least her anger with him had stopped her shaking. There wasn’t a thing about her that seemed fragile now.
“Thank you for making these arrangements, Agent Bosworth. I won’t trouble you again.”
She turned and headed for her car. Adam Harrison watched her stalk off, a concerned frown on his face. “She has good reason to be worried,” he said.
“And that reason would be?”
“I don’t know the whole story yet. For starters, we need to have that phone message analyzed. Her friend Lara Mayhew worked for Congressman Walker. Lara called Meg very late—as in 2:30 a.m. Lara was upset. The kind of upset that worried Meg,” Adam explained. “And Lara used these words—I have to get out of here.”
“But this call only came in last night, or rather, early this morning,” Matt pointed out. “I’m not trying to be skeptical. I’m merely playing devil’s advocate.”
“I’ve heard the message. Well, messages,” he said.
“Messages?”
“Two of them,” Adam told him. “I’ll have her play them for you in the morning. The second one sounds like an accidental call—just background noise. Might have been wind. We’ll need to have it analyzed, as well.”
Matt mulled that over. “So, there could be trouble. It could mean someone took the phone away from her, for instance. But it could also mean that her friend’s gone into hiding, which is what the first message implied.”
Adam nodded. “She could have, but I know Meg. And Meg... Well, you should understand. Sometimes people just...know,” he said.
“Yes, I remember you had your eye on her when she was in the academy.”
“And now she’s out. Her graduation ceremony was yesterday. She’s been assigned to the criminal division. Anyway, I’ll make the appropriate arrangements and bring her in.”
“You think this is a real case? This business about Lara Mayhew? Adam, we do have two savaged bodies. And Meg’s friend wasn’t one of them.”
“But her friend has disappeared. There’s a killer out there. And I don’t like the idea that Lara was working for a congressman. I hate to say it, but...”
“Yes, scandal has erupted in those circumstances before.” Matt frowned. “But if there’s ever been any scandal around Congressman Walker, I’ve never heard it. His wife is gracious, a well-known hostess and fundraiser for assorted charities. And Walker’s been in office so long his kids go to school in DC. Does Meg Murray—do you—believe that Ian Walker has done her friend in over a sex scandal?” Matt was skeptical. Not that congressional scandals didn’t exist and not that appearances couldn’t deceive, but as he’d said, Walker’s reputation was that of an honest, upstanding family man.
“Meg hasn’t suggested that her friend was saying anything negative about Ian Walker. Then again, you never know.” Adam sighed. “She’s worried. And her friend and the two dead girls fit the same description. She might be this killer’s type.” Adam looked away for a minute. “I’m bringing her into the Krewe. She has...instincts. We’re going to help her find Lara.”
“But should we be chasing someone who might want to stay hidden? Whose disappearance might be entirely unconnected? Sir, we have the makings of a serial killing spree here. One more will make it three.”
“Yes, and her friend just might be the one to raise the body count to three,” Adam said. “I’m going to let Meg focus on this situation until it’s solved. And, Matthew, you’ll work with her. My office, first thing in the morning, if you will.”
* * *
Was she dead?
Lara Mayhew saw nothing but a world that was black. Maybe it was limbo, maybe it was purgatory.
If so, death came with all the pain of life. Her limbs hurt; her head pounded. Opening her eyes seemed to be a Herculean task.
Death. Did death come with thirst and hunger and cold, too?
No.
She wasn’t dead, but she was in hell. Hell on earth. She could smell the soil around her; she could feel a damp chill seeping into her.
Buried! she thought. Buried alive.
A sound escaped her lips and she knew that before death came the ability to feel fear. Terror. She tried to move and found that she could. She stretched out her arms and felt the hard dirt beneath her. Yes, buried alive.
She rose to her knees and felt around her.
Scream? Don’t scream? Was the killer nearby?
On her hands and knees, she crawled forward—until she struck hard rock. She felt the pain in her knuckles. Yes, that proved she was alive!
She