Rachel Lee - Undercover Hunter

“I hope they listen about the guns.”

“They’ll be reminded at the staging areas, I’m sure.”

Gage joined them just as they were being served large platters of bacon, eggs and toast. He pulled a chair from one of the tables, and Mavis promptly gave him a mug of coffee.

“You want a full breakfast or rolls?” she asked.

“Just rolls, Mavis. Thanks. My stomach’s so knotted these days I’m in danger of losing my love handles.” Mavis laughed, a deep, harsh sound, and wandered back to the kitchen.

“Thanks for calling me,” Gage said to Cade. “I’m starting to feel like I’m sitting on a powder keg.”

“You are,” DeeJay answered. “They’re looking for a way to burn off adrenaline.”

“Well, the cold and hiking today ought to help with that. I hope.”

Mavis delivered Gage’s rolls, refilled coffee cups all around the diner, then vanished into the back. Quiet conversation resumed among the old men in their little corner.

“So,” Gage said quietly, “I didn’t bring over the vic photos. Obviously. I’ll have Sarah Ironheart, one of my deputies, bring them over to the house later. I think you met her once, Gage.”

“A long time ago, I believe.”

“Well, you were never here very long. I doubt anyone remembers you.”

“I sure as hell hope not.”

“I was looking over them again this morning, along with the autopsy reports. Sarah will bring them, as well. But something struck me.”

He looked at DeeJay a long moment, then at Cade. “These vics not only resemble each other—I guess that’s not unusual for this kind of thing.”

“Not at all,” Cade agreed. “A lot of them seem to have a particular type they’re after.”

“In this case, dark-haired boys about five feet tall and lean. Small. But something struck me.” Again his gaze trailed to DeeJay.

“What?” she asked.

“If you were ten inches shorter and a boy, you’d fit the victim profile.” He pushed back from the table, carrying a roll with him and draining his mug as soon as he stood. “I’ve got to go ride herd at the staging areas. Talk to you later.” He paused and looked again at DeeJay. “You be really careful, hear?”

* * *

Five minutes passed before either of them spoke again. They continued eating as if everything were perfectly normal. But Cade knew it wasn’t, and since DeeJay had the same kind of training in these cases, he was sure she knew, as well.

But apparently she wasn’t going to let it ruin her appetite, and it wasn’t enough to make him lose his. They couldn’t discuss it here anyway. Mavis was moving around again, clearing up dishes, and as much as the place had quieted down she could probably tune in on any conversation she wanted to.

Cade called out to Mavis. “Is it possible to get up anywhere near the ski resort right now?”

She turned, frowned, then shook her head. “Might be a day or two. Work was called off during the storm and that’s a lot of road to clear. The construction office is in the phone book. Look for Masters General Contracting.”

“Thanks, Mavis.”

“God,” mumbled DeeJay as Mavis disappeared with another load of dishes, “a world where people still use the phone book.”

Cade had to laugh. “I know. How about I just plug it into my phone or tablet.”

He saw the smile flicker over her face. The woman was thawing a bit. Thank God.

“I wonder how long we’ll have to wait for this deputy.”

“Not long,” Cade judged. “Gage wants something out of us as soon as possible. He’s going to grease the skids as much as he can.”

She nodded and at last pushed her plate to one side. “I’m going to need to work out twice a day for a month if I keep eating here. But it’s good.”

“And filling,” he agreed. “We can hit the grocery later and find some healthier stuff. When we’re out making like travel writers.”

“Pretending to be travel writers still seems ridiculous. We have to ask the kinds of questions that have nothing to do with the case.”

“On the other hand, everyone seems more than willing to talk about it with us. Natural interest will give us the chance to ask questions.”

“I hope so.”

Mavis returned, and they paid their bill, then once again headed back toward the house. As they drove, Cade mentioned Gage’s warning. “Do you think that was over-the-top? I mean, you’re a heck of a lot taller than the victims, plus you’re female.”

“I’m not going to worry about it,” she said. “I’m not a victim. I can take care of myself. Can’t blame the guy for being hypercautious right now.”

“I guess not,” Cade answered, winding them along streets that in places looked like they ought to be on a Christmas card. She might brush it aside, but Cade couldn’t quite. The history of serial killers was filled with people who broke out of their supposed patterns at times. For example, the guy who killed only teenage girls until he killed his mother. But those things usually involved a long relationship fraught with emotional problems.

So, while it wasn’t likely the killer would even notice DeeJay, he resolved to keep a sharp eye out. “Just don’t get cocky,” he said.

He should have known she would bridle. “I don’t get cocky, Cade. I know what I’m capable of.”

Maybe she did. He still knew next to nothing about her. But then, he wasn’t exactly sharing himself, either.

It bothered him, too, that they were stuck in this partnership, because despite all her thorns and prickliness, she attracted him sexually, almost mercilessly. He kept finding himself wondering if she reciprocated. Then he’d yank his thoughts back into line and remind himself: job first. Besides, if they ever broke those barriers, he was certain it would be a flaming mess.

“You know,” she said as they neared their house, “this kind of work is ever so much easier when we can just step in and help the team. We’re at a fits and starts position because we can’t cozy up to the local law too much. That’s slowing everything down.”

“I know.” He couldn’t argue with that. “But like I said, I think Gage is greasing skids as much as he can. Probably putting it around that we check out okay so folks won’t be worried about us, but it remains...”

“I know,” she agreed. “We don’t want to scare the guy off.”

He pulled the car to a stop in front of the house and cocked an eye at her. “Are you of the rush-in-and-bash-heads school?”

“Only when necessary.”

Which probably said a whole lot about her, he decided. She could operate in multiple modes. Now that was useful.

She looked at him. “You?”

“Only when necessary.”

She gave a brisk nod and climbed out. Damn, he thought, this woman didn’t give an inch. A spine of steel and a ramrod with it. Of course, just that little bit she’d said about her CO ruining her career was enough, and he somehow figured that was just the tip of the iceberg. Something had made this woman tough, and even a bit difficult to deal with.

He hoped he’d find out eventually what her story was. He also hoped that wouldn’t involve sharing his own.

* * *

They’d barely had time to start another pot of coffee—Cade was in favor of bottomless coffee, and DeeJay seemed to share his liking—when someone knocked at the door.

This time, aware of her apparent sensitivities to dominating men, he let DeeJay get it.

She came back inside with a woman in civvies. Long inky hair dashed by a few streaks of silver and pulled back in a ponytail. Sarah Ironheart, the deputy Gage had promised. Native American was stamped even more clearly on her face than DeeJay’s. A striking woman.

“Brought the photos and autopsy reports,” she said, tossing a thick envelope on the table. “All the gruesome glory.” She took a seat at the table as easily as if she’d been there before and nodded affirmatively in answer to Cade’s question about coffee. “It fuels the world, and any excuse I can get not to drink Velma’s, I’ll take.”