Don't Look Back (7 page)

Dakota ignored his initial reaction of wanting to get the rest of the story from her. That could come later. Instead, he got on the phone and asked for a crime scene team to sweep Jamie’s office. He called Jazz, the FBI information expert and part of the Behavioral Science Unit in Quantico, to pull up anybody who’d turned up dead with a number branded into her upper shoulder.

He seriously doubted they’d find anything, but even smart psychos made mistakes occasionally. If this was one of those times, he didn’t want to miss it.

While they did their job, they talked to Jamie’s boss, Bruno Girard, explaining the situation and the possible need for a little extra security around the building, especially in the area where Jamie worked.

Dakota rubbed his chin. “I also want to look at the security videos from last night through this morning.”

Bruno frowned, but agreed. “If there’s something weird going on, I want to know about it. No one should have free access to Jamie’s office.”

“I always lock the lab,” Jamie insisted. “No one else is usually in there unless I have students from the university doing an internship or a tour. Otherwise it’s just my domain. But I don’t always bother to lock up my office. There’s nothing in there that would really be considered confidential, and if I do have anything, I lock it in the file cabinet.”

Jake Hollister, lead CSI working the day shift, entered the room, and Dakota flashed him a grateful smile as he pulled him aside. “Look, we don’t want to alarm everyone in the building, but it looks like Jamie may have picked up a stalker. We believe he could have been in her office. Can you sweep it? See if you find anything that shouldn’t be there?”

“Sure, you pull the tapes?”

“Bruno’s getting them now.”

“I’ll get on this then.”

Dakota slapped the man on the back. “Thanks.”

Jake went to work and Dakota went back to Jamie who’d returned to the bones laid out on the examination table. He whistled a little tune as he approached and she stilled, then turned. “You’re a quick study.”

He shrugged. “I don’t like seeing you so afraid.”

She blew out a sigh and closed her eyes for a brief moment. “Trust me, I don’t like it either.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

“No.”

“But you said . . .”

“I know. But I’ve calmed down quite a bit and I’m going to stay right here and work.”

Admiration welled inside him. No one could accuse her of being a quitter. Strong-willed with a backbone made out of steel was more like it. “All right. It might help to keep your mind off of everything.”

Jake popped his head in. “I’m done, guys.”

“Anything stand out?”

The CSI shook his head. “Nothing. I’ll go run these prints, but if he wore gloves, then . . .” He shrugged and Dakota nodded.

Jamie asked him. “Did you dust the plant and the pen?”

“Sure did.”

“Thank you.”

He left and Dakota’s cell phone rang. Jazz.

“Hello?”

“Sorry, Dakota, nothing on any bodies being branded with numbers.”

Rats.
“All right, thanks, Jazz. Get back to me if anything turns up.”

She promised she would and Dakota turned his attention back to Jamie.

She picked up one of the larger bones. “Look at this.”

“What?”

“This is the radius.” She touched his arm lightly to show him which bone she was talking about.

Hope shivered through him. Even with all that was going on and the memories she was no doubt dealing with, she was willing to reach out to him, to touch him. He kept his cool and nodded. “Okay.”

“And see this flaw right here?” Her fingernail tapped the area on the bone.

“Yeah, I do. What does that mean?”

“That the bone was broken once upon a time.”

“Okay, so we might be able to find medical records on a missing female with a broken arm.” He was only half serious.

“Ha. I wish. That would be a needle in a haystack. Although, whoever set it knew what he was doing. She had a good doctor, it healed back almost perfectly.” Her voice was low, almost as though she were talking to herself.

“So . . . um . . . what did you mean, ‘he’s back’?”

She froze for a millisecond, then resumed her positioning of several more bones. Finally, she said, “Surely you know by now I have a rather . . . horrific past.”

Softly, he said, “Yeah, I’ve figured some of it out. Connor gave me the basics without,” he assured her, “betraying any confidences.” He reached out and placed a hand over hers. She stopped and looked at him. He pressed, “When are you going to trust me enough to tell me all of it?”

Her eyes studied his. “It’s . . . a horrid, horrid tale.”

“I’ll listen when you’re ready to tell me.” He gave her hand a squeeze and released it.

She rubbed her hands down the sides of her lab coat, then clasped them in front of her. “After I jumped out of Sam’s car, he . . . shot me with something and I passed out. When I woke up, I was . . . handcuffed,” her voice shuddered over the word, “to a bed.”

Did he really want to hear this? Could he deal with what she had to tell him? “You jumped out of Samantha’s car?”

She rolled her eyes in self-disgust. “Yes, it was one of those stupid sibling fights that usually blow over and all is well. Only we didn’t get a chance to make up until . . . anyway, he grabbed me and . . .”

“The scars on your wrists?”

“Hm. Yes.” She turned from him and he watched her shoulders rise and fall.

“It’s okay, Jamie, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I just . . .” Her phone rang, cutting her off. She shot him an apologetic look and fished in her lab coat pocket. He could see the relief on her face as she said, “Let me get this, it’s Maya.”

“Sure, I’m going to go study the tapes, then be back to take you to lunch.”

A soft smile crossed her lips, erasing some of the stress evident on her forehead and at the corners of her eyes. “That’d be great.”

He left her to her conversation.

Jamie nibbled a nail as she watched Dakota leave, then turned her attention to Maya. “Hi, Maya.”

“How are you doing, Jamie? Samantha called me and filled me in on things.”

“Are you asking as my friend or my therapist?”

Maya gave a small chuckle. “Maybe a little of both.”

Jamie sucked in a deep breath, then plunged into the conversation she didn’t want to have. “I think he’s back.”

Silence on the other end, then, “The man who assaulted you?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I swear it’s got to be him.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Jamie told Maya what had just happened in her office. “And he circled the number three on the calendar.”

“What else is going on that day, Jamie?”

“What do you mean?”

“That day has special meaning. What is it?”

Dumbfounded, Jamie paused, thinking. Wait a minute, the calendar had been flipped. It wasn’t June third circled, it was July third. She gasped. “July third, that’s Samantha’s birthday! I’d forgotten what month we were in. I was so focused on the fact that the number was circled that I . . .”

“Do you think it’s possible that you did that? Could you have marked it to remind yourself it was Sam’s birthday?”

“I . . . I . . .” Had she?

“I’m not trying to discount anything you’re saying, Jamie, I’m just pointing out it’s possible you had Samantha’s birthday on your mind, you were distracted, talking on the phone or whatever, and reached over to doodle on your calendar and circled the day.”

“I . . . don’t think . . . maybe . . . but the pen was . . .” She stopped her stuttering, closed her eyes, and pushed her brain to remember if she’d been the one to circle the number. After all, she’d lost track of time last night – something she never did. Maybe . . . “I suppose it’s possible.”

Had she put all these people out, looking for something that may not exist? Was she letting her fears overwhelm her again? Causing her to see things that weren’t there, interpret things erroneously?

“Just think about it, Jamie,” Maya was saying.

Doubt surged. “All right.”

She hung up, troubled by the conversation. If Maya was right and Jamie was imagining all of these things, then that meant she wasn’t doing nearly as well as she thought she was. The very idea depressed her. With a heavy heart, she went back to the bones and reached for the clavicle, and her breath caught in her throat as she pulled it for closer examination.

Broken. And healed. Very nicely.

Oh Lord, could this mean what I think it does?

7

That question still haunted her when Dakota popped his head back in the lab an hour later. “Hey, are you ready to grab a bite to eat? Samantha can’t come because of the field trip, but Connor said he’d meet us at our usual spot.”

Flannigan’s Fine Food. Ever since Jamie had gotten the job in the lab, the foursome ate at Flannigan’s two or three times a week. At least when cases and criminals allowed. Sometimes it was just a partial group – like today.

“Okay. Just let me finish making a few notes and I’ll be ready.” Bending back over the file she’d spread out over a workspace across from the bones, she put her thoughts on the paper, then clicked the pen. And stopped.

Staring at the simple ink pen, she clicked it again, then again, pulling the ballpoint up into the cylinder, then pushing it back out.

She had
not
left the pen on her desk clicked out.

“Jamie?”

Blinking, she looked up, then shook her head. “I’m coming.” Dropping the pen on top of the folder, she grabbed her purse and followed Dakota into the hall.

Dakota said, “I asked George if he’d go to lunch with us.”

“What?” she frowned at him. “Why?”

“I want to get his perspective on the things going on with you. Use his profiling and psychological expertise.”

“What if I’m wrong?”

“What makes you say that?”

She blurted, “The third is Sam’s birthday. What if I absently circled the three on the calendar? What if I . . .” She stopped, swallowed hard, and averted her eyes. George strolled toward them.

“Jamie . . .” Dakota laid a hand on her arm and she didn’t pull away.

Forcing a smile for the approaching newcomer, she said, “Never mind.”

Leaning over, he whispered in her ear, “You’re not crazy.”

Appreciation for this man flooded her and she felt herself relax. A little.

“Hey, guys, I’m ready. Thanks for asking me to tag along. Being the new person in the house makes for some lonely lunches some days.”

Guilt hit Jamie. “I’m so sorry, we should have asked you to join us long before now.”

George flashed a grin. “No worries. I’ve actually been buried under all the paperwork and the act of figuring out what I’m doing that comes with a new job, meeting clients, et cetera. So it’s not a big deal.”

“All right then, let’s get going.”

Dakota led the way and the trio headed out of the building and stepped onto the sidewalk. Jamie gave a small gasp as heat and humidity pressed her lungs flat. “Whew! I’m ready for fall.”

Two minutes later, they entered the cool interior of the restaurant and Jamie pointed. “Look, Connor’s already got us a table.”

“Great, I’m starving.”

After Connor and George exchanged greetings and handshakes, they seated themselves. The waitress took their order, and Jamie looked around the table. She didn’t know whether to laugh or get up and run. She, Jamie Cash, avowed man-hater, sat at a table with three men.

Okay, God, this is just a little further out of my comfort zone than I
think is necessary.
She examined herself and realized . . . she was fine. No signs of a panic attack, and only the faintest desire to flee the premises and escape to her bed – or the lab. Gladness lifted her and she took a sip of water.
Thank you, God.

“. . . haven’t you, Jamie?”

The question threw her. “What?”

Connor’s eyes crinkled around the corners. “Are you with us?”

Flushing, she took a sip of water. “Yes, sorry. I was thinking.” “About what?”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. What were we talking about?”

George leaned in. “They were telling me a little about what’s going on with you. You’ve got a stalker?” Concern wrinkled his brow and he looked eager to help.

Grimacing, Jamie shrugged. “It’s possible. It’s also possible that I . . . jumped to conclusions.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the things that have happened have been things I could have overlooked, forgotten about.” She sighed. “Things I could have done myself.”

“But you don’t think so?” George asked.

Jamie looked away. “I don’t know what to think. Everything that’s happened has been something that I could have done. Nothing was found by Jake, so . . .” She shook her head. “I just don’t know.”

“Have you had episodes of forgetfulness? Leaving the stove on when you thought you turned it off? Thinking you put something on the coffee table, then finding it in your bedroom. Little things like that?”

She thought about the picture in her Bible and looked him in the eye. “No.”

He blinked and looked over at the other two men. “Then I would say it’s a distinct possibility that you have a stalker.”