Wounded at Work Page 4

  The phone in Carrie’s hand rang. “About time.”

  “I’ve been a little busy.”

  “I can see that.” She leaned against the counter, took a sip of coffee. “What’s with the two women you asked about?”

  “Curious, aren’t you?”

  “More than.”

  “First, tell me why you were at a bar in the wrong part of town dressed like a hooker?”

  Carrie let out a long-suffering sigh. The guys gloried in teasing her about her undercover fashions. “I wasn’t dressed like a hooker, Matt. More like a biker babe. I wanted the guys to pay attention and let loose a little information about the missing persons case I’m on.”

  “Wait a minute. Is your missing person female?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Is she young and pretty? Does she have red hair and green eyes?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Don’t be cute, Carrie. My two women were viciously murdered. Both were young, pretty, and both had red hair and green eyes. Another in Dallas is the same. We just might have a serial killer on our hands.”

  “Jeez!”

  “Yeah. So talk to me.”

  “Blonde, blue-eyed, and attractive, pretty much describes my missing person.”

  Were all women with red hair and green eyes potential victims? The thought crossed her mind and quickly went away. Proficient with a gun, and pretty darned good in various martial arts, she could take care of herself. “My hope is my missing person is shacked up somewhere and having such a good time she’s forgotten everything else.”

  Matt chuckled. Carrie liked the sound of it. Always had.

  “One more thing, the victims in my case had dyed hair.”

  “You’re kidding! That could be important.” Carrie put her cup of coffee down. She doubted there was a connection to her case.

  “I think so, too.”

  It was time to change the subject. “I’m sorry about your problem with Reed.” She wouldn’t tell him her plan. He would go ballistic. “Do you know why he’s claiming part of the Trust?”

  “The Trust lawyer will know that soon.”

  “I’ll help in any way I can.”

  “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

  “Matt?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m serious. If you think of any way I can help, let me know.”

  “I will. It might be smart if you stayed out of bars dressed like you were today.”

  “Why? If I’m lucky, I’ll find out something that will help my case. Maybe even yours.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t stick your nose in mine. We’re dealing with a killer.”

  “I can take care of myself. Don’t worry.”

  There was a deep sigh on the phone. Teasing Matt was one of her favorite pastimes.

  “This is serious. Be careful.”

  “Consider me warned.”

  “I know you, Carrie. You’re going to go back to Magee’s and ask questions again, aren’t you?”

  “Bull’s-eye.”

  “You take stubborn to a new level. Take my warning to heart. Coop and Dirk would be upset if anything happened to their favorite chameleon.”

  Carrie chuckled. “Their only one. Thanks for the warning. I’ll find a way to keep my gun on me.”

  “Impossible if you wear an outfit like you had on today.”

  “Don’t you know by now that nothing is impossible?” She hung up before he came back with a retort.

  She went to bed smiling. Matt could always do that to her. She liked the man. He was handsome. Smart. Loved his family. And he was rich. Not just rich, but billionaire-rich.

  What more could a girl ask for?

  Carrie was surprised he wasn’t married or at least dating. Maybe the rich part made him leery. Maybe he didn’t trust that money wasn’t the reason a woman would want him. It was easy to see where being as wealthy as Matthew Montgomery could be a deterrent to one’s love life.

  For a brief moment, she wondered what it would be like to be Matt’s lover. It was too bad she wasn’t in his league. If she were, she just might go after him.

  And it wouldn’t be for his money.

  ****

  Matt had a hard time getting to sleep. His sheets were a tangled mess. There was no way to get comfortable. He wasn’t sure whether it was because he was afraid the nightmare would return, or that he couldn’t get the picture of Carrie in that sexy outfit out of his head. As she’d reminded him, she could take care of herself. That wasn’t it. Maybe it was that get-up. But why would that bother him? He’d seen her dressed more provocatively.

  Carrie was an experienced undercover operative and had been military trained while in the Army. She had gone on dozens of ops and always came out with flying colors. But this one bothered him, and he didn’t know why.

  He’d run his murder case by his brothers in the morning and tell them his concerns. They were better at dealing with Carrie than he was. He didn’t want to tangle with the fiery redhead. Or did he? The thought made him smile.

  He sent a text to his brothers, asking if they could drop by his house before they started training. He wanted their input.

  With no nightmare to interfere with his sleep, Matt hit the floor at five the next morning and started the coffee. By the time his brothers came in, he’d put in a hard thirty minutes exercising.

  “What’s this about? Do you have more info on your cousin? We didn’t find a thing yesterday, but then we only had time to go through part of one trunk.”

  “Nothing on Reed. Flannery will answer the summons, and we’ll know more. The Trust will be frozen immediately at that point, so we have less than four weeks to find the truth. Flannery is trusting the three of us to come up with something to counter Reed’s allegations before then, or the charities on our list will not get funded.”

  “You should fire that guy and get someone younger in there to look after your interests.”

  Matt shook his head. “Can’t. He reminded me last night how my great-grandfather left the trust in his dad’s hands and how it had been passed down to him. No way can I fire him. He’ll handle it until his dying breath. There are several younger attorneys in his office. I’m sure they’ll get on this as well.”

  “So what’s this meet about?”

  Matt took a swallow of coffee before he answered. “It’s the case I’m on. Hear me out. HPD found the bodies of two women—both with red hair—both with green eyes. Their hair had been dyed—pubic hair as well. Another with the same description was found in Dallas. The FBI thinks the killer is targeting women with no visible family who fit that description.”

  The looks on his brothers’ faces were filled with interest. “My partner and I went to Magee’s bar yesterday to check out a lead, and guess who was sitting there? Carrie shouldn’t be allowed in public dressed the way she was. She told me last night she was on a missing person case.”

  “What happened? Did you acknowledge each other?”

  “We’re both professionals, Coop. Carrie played her part to perfection.” He thought about how she’d flirted. “She left on that damned Harley of hers and my partner and I got on with our job.”

  “That sounds like Carrie.”

  “Has she made any progress on her case?”

  “Too early. Have you?”

  Matt shook his head. “Yesterday was our first day. Time is our enemy. We have to find the killer before more women die.”

  Coop looked at his watch.

  “Even though all of my victims had dyed hair, it wouldn’t hurt to put a little fear into Carrie. She reminded me yesterday that she wasn’t worried, as she carried a gun and could take care of herself, but she could be more careful.”

  Coop and Dirk stood to go. “What is the killer’s MO?”

  “Knife to the heart. Not once but multiple times.”

  Coop stopped in his tracks. “Shit.”

  “Right.”

  “We’ll talk to Carrie, but no promise it will do any good.” Coop,
followed by Dirk, headed to the training field.

  Matt watched them leave. He was proud of them. Their military dog training school was doing so well they had a waiting list, and their PI firm stayed busy. They took on all kinds of cases, from divorce to missing persons, and others he couldn’t name. Their success rate was in the high nineties. Added to that, they had found their soul mates in Lanie and Sky. They were not only successful, but blessed.

  He should be so fortunate. Yes, he had money, a job he liked, a family he loved who loved him in return. But he didn’t have that special someone. He envied his brothers.

  Carrie’s smiling face came to mind.

  After taking a shower and getting dressed, he left. He had to find out why certain women were pinpointed for murder.

  One step at a time.

  At his office, he e-mailed his boss a summary of yesterday’s interviews, leaving out Carrie and her undercover job. Then he reviewed the data they had so far and started planning. When his partner walked in and wanted to know the day’s agenda, Matt gave him an assignment. “See if you can find more murders in other cities and states, besides Dallas, to match ours. Then search for missing persons with the names of Mona and Nancy.”

  “On it.” And the door shut.

  At day’s end, they compared notes. “The victim in Dallas is the only other matching victim and I found nothing significant with just a first name to go on.”

  “Did you talk with the investigating officer in Dallas?”

  Carl slid a thin file across the desk. “Nothing Nelson didn’t already hand us.”

  “What do we know?”

  Sweeney ticked off on his fingers. “Besides the dyed hair, all were thin, petite, average or taller-than-average height. One was five-five, another five-seven, and the last five-eight. Also, none were raped or sexually abused.” He shuffled through the slim file. “Another thing, the victims’ skin-tone varied from light to dark.”

  “What does that tell us?”

  “I don’t know, boss. You tell me.”

  “Don’t call me boss.”

  “On this case you are. Live with it.”

  Matt glared at the agent who had been his friend since their days at the academy. “Don’t women born with red hair mostly have light complexions? Sometimes freckles? Usually of Anglo Saxon or Celtic descent?”

  “That’s what I always thought.”

  “Research that. Our serial killer may be fixated on hair color and a pretty face. Nothing else.”

  Except for the dyed hair, Carrie fit the picture, down to the few freckles across her nose she tried to cover up.

  He put on his jacket and headed for the door, his cell phone to his ear.

  Chapter Five

  Carrie dropped her bag on the table in her small apartment and walked the few feet to the bathroom, stripping as she went. By the time she got there, she was down to her leggings and boots. Before taking them off, she massaged her arm and turned on the tub faucet. Her scars had begun to hurt a few months back. The doctor told her it was scar tissue and she would need another surgery. Not going to happen. The pain wasn’t that bad.

  With a contented sigh, she sank into the almost-too-hot bubbling water. Reaching over, she grabbed a bottle and poured in a shot of bath salts. The combination of hot water and lavender had her muscles singing alleluia. She sank deeper.

  When her cell phone rang, she was tempted not to answer. She needed this time to herself. After eight rings, she picked it up. “This better be good.”

  “What happened to a simple hello?”

  Matt. What did he want? She sat up to turn off the jets. “I just got home. I’m exhausted, and I’m taking a bubble bath. So tell me why you called before my water gets cold.”

  His chuckle made her stomach dance.

  “I wanted to ask about your day and see if you’ve made any headway on your case.”

  “Liar. You want to make sure I didn’t get my throat slit by some psycho targeting red-heads.”

  “He doesn’t slit throats; he goes for the heart.”

  She hissed in a breath. “Any leads?”

  “No. And I’m not happy about it. How about you?”

  “Let’s just say I’m not happy either.” She sat up straighter. “You must have something.” Silence. “Look, you don’t have to tell me FBI secrets. A simple yes or no will do.”

  “I’m still doing research. Nothing concrete. Stay safe now, okay?”

  Before she could answer, he hung up.

  Matt was the smartest man she knew. She wouldn’t tell Coop or Dirk that, but Matt was different from his brothers. Of course he is, you idiot.

  They weren’t blood brothers. But while Dirk and Coop operated in lockstep with each other, Matt walked to a different drummer.

  He was always spit shined from head to toe while his brothers mucked around after work in tattered jeans and old T-shirts without a second thought. Matt was the calm one in a crisis. He never, but never, went off half-cocked on anything. Though Coop and Dirk were thorough and diligent, they were prone to go off on tangents and have to rein themselves in.

  She admired Matt for all he did for others with his Trust and for just being Matt.

  Getting out of the tub, she walked into the shower and rinsed off. After putting on a worn T-shirt, she went to the kitchen and propped herself on a stool at the bar where she grabbed a pen and paper and went to work. There was little headway on her case. The folks at the restaurants the two friends frequented, knew nothing more than their menu favorites. The missing woman’s workplace didn’t give Carrie any new info either, but she was going to try again later.

  The bars weren’t much different.

  Except—she remembered the look in Benjie the bartender’s eyes while she was in Magee’s. Did he know something? Had Matt’s unexpected visit prevented him from telling her something she could use?

  To satisfy her curiosity, she had made a quick trip back there earlier, only to spend a couple of hours fending off bozos who had more on their mind than dancing. And Benjie didn’t have anything to say.

  Where was Amy Strong?

  Was she dead or alive?

  She could have simply left the city and not told her friend. Unlikely. Or she could be shacked up, like Carrie told Matt. Again, not likely for this length of time without coming up for air. Amy could be dead. If so, where was the body?

  Standing, Carrie paced the living area. She glanced at the clock. Midnight. If she didn’t stop thinking about the case, she’d never sleep.

  After rubbing a soothing moisturizer on her extensive scars, she crawled into bed. She’d come to terms with the scars. Which didn’t mean she didn’t miss the smooth skin she once had.

  Stretching, she focused on counting her blessings. As she did every night, she said a prayer for Ms. Jackson—the neighbor who had kept Carrie fed and clothed all of her growing-up years. Though she had passed away years ago, the woman was in Carrie’s prayers every night. There was no prayer for her dead alcoholic parents.

  While in the Army, Carrie had been notified that they had wrapped their car around a tree and been killed. Their alcohol level had been .207 when it should have been no more than .023. Carrie wasn’t surprised. And when the army offered to send her home for the funeral, she declined. As far as Carrie was concerned, she’d never had parents. What she did have was the memory of Ms. Jackson and she had the Brownings who treated her like family. It was enough.

  Up early the next morning, Carrie took special pains with her wardrobe. She didn’t know how she would outdo the skintight leather outfit, but she would try. First, though, she tucked a snub-nose Smith & Wesson M&P .357 Magnum in an underarm holster. She turned one way, and then the other, in front of the mirror to satisfy herself that it wasn’t noticeable. Then she tucked another in her boot.

  Carrie left the apartment dressed in white. Perfect for mid-summer. She had a white-fringed vest over a low-cut red T-shirt. Skintight white jeans were tucked into white cowboy boots with red ta
ssels that swayed with every step. Topping off her ensemble was a jaunty red cowboy hat. She was going to knock them off their feet. First, she had to make an appearance at the office and fill the guys in on her progress, or lack thereof.

  Every morning they gathered to share updates on their various cases. When Carrie walked in, everyone else was there already.

  “If you don’t get information today, Carrie, it’s because the guys don’t have anything to tell you. After one look, I guarantee, not a single man I know would have control over what he said or did.”

  Carrie put a hand over her heart. “Marshall, you are an absolute darling.”

  Marshall and Buster were the firm’s computer geniuses. The group was in the break room as usual, with donuts and coffee.

  “You’ve got to be kidding!”

  All eyes turned to the doorway. Coop was the first to speak. “Hey, Matt. I didn’t expect you today.”

  “Short visit. Now that I’m here, I’m more inclined to wonder what your in-house chameleon is up to.”

  Carrie grinned. Feeling naughty, she winked.

  He sat across the table from her and glared back before he turned to the guys. “You shouldn’t let her out of here looking like that.”

  “I believe that’s how she gets her information, Matt.”

  “She fits the description the serial killer is zeroing in on, Coop. Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “He won’t get within spitting distance,” Carrie predicted, as she stood to get a coffee refill.

  Matt rounded on his brothers. “Tell her to put her hair up and wear a hat so no one can see it.”

  Carrie put her hands on her hips. “Try to take me.” She was tired of Matt’s ragging. She’d show him. Maybe then, he would believe her.

  “What?”

  “Pretend you’re the killer and I’m your target.” She wiggled her fingers on both hands to egg him on.

  “You asked for it.”

  Carrie turned around and walked away. Matt came up behind her. When she felt him two steps away, she pulled the gun from its resting place under her arm, spun around, kicked up her right leg to pull out the gun from her boot and yelled, “Not a step closer or I blow your brains out.”