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They’d stayed quiet for a while. But since the kidnapping of that little girl…
He dropped to the floor, forehead pressed to the carpet, breathing heavily. Memories cut deep. Even for a former Navy SEAL. Especially for a former Navy SEAL. Everyone thought they were impervious to emotional scars. They weren’t. What he’d seen during those years might have made him a better FBI agent, and now a valuable member of Forensic Instincts, but they’d taken away something that could never be restored.
And left something dark and destructive in its place.
Marc’s head came up abruptly as he heard the front doorbell ring. It couldn’t be one of the team. They all had keys and knew the alarm code for the Hirsch pad. Instinctively, Marc reached for the pistol he’d placed on the table beside him. Rising, he walked over and eyed the small window on the computer screen displaying a view of the front door from the video surveillance camera.
A woman stood on the doorstep.
Marc pressed the intercom button. “Yes?”
A brief silence.
“Is this the office of Forensic Instincts?” the woman’s voice asked.
“Yes.” Marc could have pointed out the ridiculous hour. But he’d worked for the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit for five years. He could read people and tones of voice. And this voice sounded dazed and shaken. Panicky. He wasn’t about to ignore it.
“I…I didn’t think anyone would be in. I just prayed you were.” Her words confirmed Marc’s assessment. “I was afraid if I called you wouldn’t answer. Please…may I come in? It’s urgent. More than urgent. It’s life or death.”
Marc had made his decision long before the end of her dire plea. He put away his pistol. “I’m on my way down.”
He draped a towel around his neck and headed for the stairs. Professional dress decorum wasn’t high on his list right now.
He reached the entranceway, punched in the alarm code and unlocked the door.
The woman standing there with a file folder under her arm was brunette and in her mid-thirties, although the strain on her face made her look older, as did the dark circles under her eyes. She was wearing a winter coat that enveloped her body, so it was hard to make out her build. Not to mention that she was clutching the coat around her as if it were a protective shield.
She stared at Marc, taking in his imposing build, the high cheekbones, dark coloring and aristocratic nose he’d inherited from his extensive French lineage, and the brooding, slightly slanted eyes that reflected his maternal grandparents’ Asian background.
His formidable appearance made the woman nervous, and she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “You’re not Casey Woods,” she said, stating the obvious. She was not only uneasy, she was in a visible state of shock.
“I’m Marc Devereaux, Casey’s associate,” Marc replied in a voice that was intentionally calming. “And you are…?”
“Amanda Gleason.” She summoned up her composure. “I’m sorry to come by so late. But I couldn’t leave the hospital until now. I don’t have much time. Please, can we talk? I want to hire you.”
“Hospital? Are you ill?”
“No. Yes. Please…I need to explain.”
Marc pulled the door open and gestured for her to come in. “Sorry for the casual attire. I wasn’t expecting a client.” As he spoke, a series of deep, warning barks sounded from above. The echo of padded paws announced the arrival of a sleek red bloodhound as he lumbered to the front door. He stood beside Marc and woofed at the stranger.
“It’s okay, Hero,” Marc said. “Quiet down.”
Instantly, the dog obeyed.
“Hero is a human scent evidence dog and part of our team,” Marc explained. “But if you’re afraid of dogs, I can put him upstairs.”
Amanda shook her head. “That’s not necessary. I like dogs.”
“Then we’ll head to a meeting room.” He indicated the second door to the left and escorted her inside.
“Hello, Marc,” an invisible voice greeted him, along with a series of wall lights that blinked in conjunction with the voice tones. “You have a guest. The interview room temperature is sixty-five degrees. Shall I raise it?”
“Yeah, Yoda,” Marc replied. “Raise it to seventy.”
“Temperature will reach seventy degrees in approximately seven minutes.”
“Great. Thanks.” Marc gave a faint smile at the startled look on Amanda’s face. She was peering around, trying to determine the source of the voice.
