Leslie Parrish - Pitch Black

An agent had died. Alec was to blame. That was all they needed to know.

“There’s something Dean’s been dying to ask you,” Mulrooney said, his jowly face pulled into a frown. “Uh, who’s your tailor?”

“Bite me, buddy,” Dean said.

Stokes snorted, and Alec felt the tension leave his body. His coworkers were going out of their way to welcome him today, while they hadn’t the previous few. It was as if they’d waited for him to prove himself and, somehow, yesterday he’d done so.

Now they were intentionally bringing him into their world, letting him know that, even though he hadn’t been a Black CAT for long, he was one of them. And whatever they’d heard about him before he’d arrived, they were giving him a chance, as their boss had.

At least, that was how he interpreted it.

“Ignore them. We’re glad to have you,” Lily said, confirming he was right.

He couldn’t name a moment in his career when he’d been more appreciative. “Thanks,” he murmured, saying more than just that simple word.

Lily got the message. “There’s no outside garbage here; we drop it at the door.”

“Yeah, ’cause everybody treats us like garbage, anyway,” Kyle said with a wide grin, as if not bothered by the idea whatsoever.

Alec thought he understood. There was a certain freedom in being ignored due to Wyatt’s infamy. The ability to operate under the radar, investigating an unsub who appeared to be a serial killer the BAU had been hunting for years, for instance.

Kyle continued. “I guess you might be good enough to become a gen-u-ine Black CAT.”

Smiling as he realized the team didn’t seem to mind the nickname, which he’d already gotten used to himself, Alec said, “Thanks. I’ll do my best.”

Lily stepped out of the break room, closer to the group, though still maintaining a few feet of distance. Not fully joining in, but trying. “And I hope you’re not second-guessing yourself about yesterday. Trying to engage the unsub through Mrs. Dalton’s Web site was an excellent idea, and we all wanted it to succeed.”

Stokes jumped in. “There’s still a chance. I checked the site this morning; comments are still coming in. Not from Darwin, but he could be watching.”

“If Darwin is the Professor, he’s definitely watching,” Alec murmured, feeling sure of it.

He didn’t mention that he had also checked the Web site every hour throughout the night. And every time he checked, he found himself wishing he could have kept Sam out of this nightmare.

“He’s the Professor,” Jackie said, sounding certain. The other three agents nodded, the conclusion a unanimous one among the team. “We all know it.”

“I agree,” Alec said, wondering if they heard his lack of happiness about that.

He hated to admit it, knowing they needed the lead, but he wouldn’t be completely disappointed if the man who had reached out to Sam was not who they were after. She’d been through so much already. Hearing what her bastard ex had put her through had broken his heart a little. That she had been drawn out only because a psychopath had zoned in on her as some kind of ally seemed not only unfortunate but damned unfair.

She could already be out of it .

If only he could believe that. Though as of an hour ago their unsub had not returned to Sam’s Web site, Alec knew it could still happen. The Professor was out there, an angry, murderous bull, and Sam was holding the red cape that could enrage him.

He would worry about any civilian in this situation; it was his job. But last night, Alec had realized he no longer had the impartiality of his job to hide behind when it came to Sam. Already, this was deeper. This was personal.

He let himself repeat it, if only in his head: His feelings toward Sam Dalton were personal. It had taken a lot to say good night and leave her in the doorway last night, when neither of them wanted him to go. He’d been tempted by a lot more than the friendly poker game she’d suggested. Losing himself in the softness of her mouth, which he suspected hadn’t been offered to any man since her prick of a husband had tossed her away, it had taken serious willpower to walk away after just one kiss. But a second helping would have led to only one place: bed.

Maybe when this is over…

Yeah. Maybe then. What might happen, he couldn’t say. Maybe it was only attraction, as he’d told himself at first, and his liking and admiration for her wouldn’t come into play.

But he doubted it.

“You think he’s just waiting it out, wanting to get more of her blog visitors riled up, screaming for his blood, before he comes back and ‘instructs’ everyone?” Lily asked, making the very point Alec had been considering.

“Yes, I do. I think he’s intentionally letting the debate rage on, liking the attention and the drama he started. When it dies down…”

“He’ll stir the pot again,” Kyle said. “Like a sous chef straight outta hell’s kitchen.”

Right. And when and if Darwin stirred the pot, they’d be watching. Alec had only one fear-that Sam would stir it first.

He couldn’t think about that. He needed to focus on the case, stop the Professor before he hurt anybody else. Before he dragged Sam deeper into his nightmare. That included finding some other way to talk to Jimmy Flynt.

“There is one other possibility about why Darwin didn’t come back last night.” Lily’s shoulders were slumped, looking as though they carried the weight of the world. She didn’t have to continue. They all knew what the other possibility was.

The Professor might have been out killing someone.

“What’s going on? Did I miss a staff meeting?” Brandon Cole entered the office. Pink shirt today, loud tie. Alec felt pretty sure he’d seen the look on a billboard or on the cover of GQ .

“Perfect timing; we’re about to go in,” said Jackie.

Alec glanced at his watch. Seven twenty-five. Tossing his briefcase onto his desk, he joined the others in the conference room. Wyatt was waiting for them, poring over some paperwork strewn out on the table. Glancing at one file, Alec realized these were copies of the evidence report from Ryan’s and Jason’s murders.

“Anything of use?” he asked.

“The forensics came back as expected. Not a single usable fingerprint on the car, other than those belonging to the boys or Jason’s family members. The same can be said for the duct tape, the most popular brand on the market. There was a black fiber trapped in the weave of it, however. It might have come from a knit glove.”

And how many of those could there be in the northern hemisphere?

“The metal folding chair was a brand distributed through a couple of big-box retailers all over the country.”

The hits just kept coming.

“So what’s the deal with the phone?” Taggert asked.

Wyatt pushed the forensic report back into the folder. “Someone used it for more than three minutes last night. Ryan Smith’s father has been checking his son’s account every night, and he noticed a call took place around nine p.m. The phone company has the account flagged, and they would have noticed it this morning… Thanks to Mr. Smith, we knew twelve hours in advance.”

Smart man. Or simply a grieving father who felt powerless and wanted to do something to help solve his son’s murder.

“The cell phone provider should be calling at any time with the information on the tower, and the approximate location of the caller.”

Meaning, if the Professor had used the phone himself, they would know where he had been less than half a day ago. Where he had really been, not just what Internet sites he had cruised. Alec forced himself not to even think of that issue, not wanting his head clouded today by his concern for Sam.