Autumn's Game Read online

  She probably would have been shocked if she knew that Justin could see right through her.

  She’d be easy to manipulate.

  Unfortunately, he was starting to think that she was useless. She wouldn’t be able to convince a jury that he was too insane to stay out of prison, or safe enough to release back into the general public. He’d initially hoped that she had the power to do at least one or the other. But now, he was starting to doubt whether she’d be any use at all.

  On the other hand, it was nice to have someone to play with.

  The guards didn’t give a shit. They didn’t want to make conversation or have anything to do with him. Justin planned to keep working on them but didn’t expect much. The other inmates were more or less the same as the guards. They were more of a danger and held less opportunity for escape, either directly or indirectly. Justin had decided they were useless.

  Which meant that the female psychologist, however essentially useless she was, was his best chance of being able to manipulate someone. Plus, if he could get her to declare him not competent to stand trial, he’d get moved to a cozy shrink hospital where he had no doubt he could escape.

  So…fine. He’d play along with her and wait for an opportunity. It didn’t cost him anything and would probably help relieve the boredom.

  It might even give him a chance to hurt her friend, his sister. Half-sister, he corrected himself.

  The worst half.

  Justin smiled, then turned toward the wall to hide his pleasure from the guards who were always watching.

  He’d play along for now. And wait.

  3

  Aiden Parrish flipped through the pages of a case file for a killing in Sawmill, Oregon that had happened four days ago, early on the morning of January first. Two people had been killed, a middle-aged married couple named Marcus and Olivia Webster, while one person had disappeared—their daughter, nineteen-year-old Gina Webster.

  Normally, a case such as that didn’t fall under the purview of the FBI. Aiden, Special Supervisory Agent of the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit in Richmond, Virginia, had no real reason to investigate it or even to offer his help.

  But this case had possible ties to three other cases in the same general area. All three cases involved couples and blue vinyl rope. That wasn’t the only thing that made this case interesting. There was no evidence of a break-in, and nothing had been stolen.

  There was one major difference, though. The Webster case was the only one that involved a missing child.

  The father, Marcus Webster, had been involved with drugs earlier in his life. He seemed to have overcome his addiction and gone on to help others via a local community outreach program, the Newby Memorial Community Center. But, in Aiden’s experience, someone who had once had an addiction was always at risk of succumbing to it again. Had he gotten in over his head?

  What had happened wasn’t clear.

  It was the perfect case to get a victim profile on, and Aiden knew who he wanted to send in: a young woman named Autumn Trent.

  A young woman he had always been attracted to, a young woman who had been able to shock him several times with her insights into his own past. A young woman whose talents he respected, and if he was being honest, he was headhunting. He was grooming her to step into a role within his unit.

  It was just a matter of time.

  There was a knock at the door. Autumn, whom he had messaged while he knew she was in an interview with serial killer Justin Black, had arrived.

  “I got your message.” Autumn was a beautiful young woman with red hair, hypnotic green eyes, and a bow-shaped mouth. Although she would have never admitted she was more than pretty, she was stunning—a Botticelli painting come to life. She was dressed demurely, but her clothes had wrinkled a little from her drive. “I was just on my way back to work and decided I’d stop by.”

  Just as he, Aiden, had intended. “I’d like you to review a case file.”

  She was immediately intrigued, just as he’d also intended. “What happened?”

  “A double homicide of a middle-aged couple in Oregon.”

  “Oh? What makes it interesting?”

  Aiden smiled. Of course she would catch on that there was something more to the case than met the eye, if he was mentioning it to her at all. “I’ve been asked to look into matters. An old friend contacted me about it.”

  Rich Brower was the late Olivia Webster’s brother, and also an old friend of Aiden’s. Rich had once been a fantastic detective, but a spinal injury had forced him into an early retirement. Injury or not, Aiden had no doubt that Rich still had all the instincts. He was also the current mayor of Sawmill and could use the weight of his position to pull in the bureau. He and Aiden had been roommates at the University of Maryland together but had lost touch until twenty-four hours ago.

  “What do we know?” Autumn asked.

  Aiden related to her what the file contained, clearly and succinctly. He described the killings, including the time of death and the types and numbers of wounds, the lack of needle marks on Marcus Webster’s body, the lack of evidence of any break-in, and the extensive use of bindings on both Marcus and Olivia Webster.

  He described Marcus Webster’s past history of drug abuse, the effects it had had on his home life and family, his wife’s nervous breakdown, and his daughter being sent into the foster care system. He also mentioned Marcus’s recovery and his activities before the killings.

  He moved on to the daughter, how she had disappeared, and his thoughts about her possibly participating in the murders. After being placed in the foster care system, Gina had become a somewhat difficult child. Her grades had fallen, and she’d had several disciplinary actions taken against her at school.

  Autumn raised an eyebrow at that last bit of information. “How did you find that out?”

  Aiden cleared his throat. He hadn’t exactly crossed the line to find it out—school records were supposed to be sealed without proper authorization—but he had come close. “From Rich Brower, her uncle. Although he swears that she couldn’t have been involved. Sawmill is a small town, about thirty thousand people. Word gets around.”

  Autumn nodded. “I know. I grew up in a small town.”

  “That’s one of the reasons I want you to review this for me.”

  “Are you sure it’s not because you’re trying to get me used to working with the FBI?” she asked, her lips tipped up at the corners.

  The woman was too damn smart for her own good.

  “One thing anyone in the psychology field should understand is that motivations can be complex.” He winked at her.

  She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, do you think Gina is a suspect?”

  “She is a person of interest,” Aiden admitted. “Along with her boyfriend, Kyle Murphy, who has also disappeared.”

  “That’s a red flag.” Autumn tapped her fingernails on the desk. “Okay, Aiden, out with it. Why do you actually want me involved? This seems like a fairly straightforward case. Find the daughter and the boyfriend, interview them, and go from there. Why involve the FBI at all? I’m sure you don’t say yes to every ‘old friend’ who contacts you out of the blue.”

  Aiden lifted a shoulder. “Rich Brower, who is the mother’s brother, is an old friend. He was an excellent detective and was injured in the line of duty, hence the early retirement. From what I understand, he still gets called in by the current sheriff to help with certain cases. He’s a good man, and from what I’ve heard, he’s a fine mayor and said he’s thinking about running for governor in a couple years.”

  Autumn lifted both eyebrows. “And…?”

  Damn, the woman read him much too easily. “And there’s something about this case that’s getting under my skin. It’s the bindings. The victims weren’t just tied up to keep them under control while the killer did his or her or their work. The wounds on the victims indicated severe antemortem bruising on their wrists and ankles. The killer let them struggle for a while before he killed them.” H
e paused, waiting until she leaned forward a little, eager for more. “And…in the last two months, there have been three other similar murders of couples within a hundred-mile radius of Sawmill.”

  Autumn considered the idea. “I see what you mean. Were any of the victims sexually assaulted? The home robbed?”

  “No and no.”

  Aiden watched her puzzle through a number of options, her bottom lip clamped firmly between her teeth. “Did the victims know one another?”

  “Not that they’ve determined, but they’re just starting to piece everything together.”

  Autumn chewed on her bottom lip some more. “The killer might have used the time to talk to them, or to force one of them to watch while he killed the other. It’s not just a robbery or a sexual killing. The motive was more complex.”

  Aiden nodded. He wasn’t surprised that Autumn had picked up on the implications so quickly. “I’m recommending that Shadley and Latham be hired to provide a consultation and have suggested that you would be the best person on their team to handle the case.”

  Autumn tilted her head, questioning him. “I realize why you think that…but what about my bosses? It’s one thing to send your newest employee to interview a serial killer at a nearby detention center. Nobody’s in danger. It’s another situation entirely to send your newest employee across the country to try to help catch a murderer. Or murderers.”

  “They’re on board. I reminded them that, because you spent time in several foster homes when you were younger, you would have the most insight into what Gina would be thinking. You may be their newest employee, but don’t undervalue your skillset.”

  Autumn sighed. “That’s assuming that Gina is a suspect and not a victim herself.”

  Aiden nodded. “True.”

  “I have to admit that I’m interested, particularly because Gina was in the foster care system.”

  “You have empathy for her.”

  “I do.” She took the folder off his desk and flipped through to Gina Webster’s history. “I’ve got a question.”

  Aiden leaned forward. “Shoot.”

  “If Rich Brower is Gina Webster’s uncle and he cares enough about her now to bring in the feds, why did she end up in the foster system when her family fell apart? Why didn’t he take her in?”

  Aiden grimaced. He’d asked his old friend the same thing. “I told you he was injured on the job. It was a spinal cord injury that took nearly two years to recover from. He was in a rehab hospital for much of that. Man’s a walking miracle and can now walk and live a normal life, but not as a law enforcement officer.”

  “So, he was in the hospital during the time Gina was put into the system?”

  He nodded. “And from what I can tell, he still carries a great deal of guilt about that.”

  “Which is why he called in the big dogs,” Autumn concluded. “That’s sad, but I have to warn you, though, that it makes me question whether she could have been involved in the murders. Her dad had caused her to be sent into the foster care system, that’s true. But he had also rescued her from it. She might resent him, but I can’t see anyone wanting revenge. Particularly on her mother. And why wait years to do it?”

  “She did wait until she was nineteen,” Aiden pointed out. “If she had killed them before she was eighteen, she might have been sent back in. Maybe she waited on purpose.”

  Autumn snorted. “Seriously? If she had killed someone when she was younger than eighteen, she wouldn’t have been sent back into the foster system. She would have been tried as an adult for murder.”

  Aiden chuckled. “All right, I was pushing your buttons a little there. But the real question is whether you can keep your sense of perspective because of your ability to empathize.”

  Autumn tapped her nails on the folder. “I’m not saying I’m so empathetic that I can’t make reasonable assessments of whether she is a suspect or not. I’m just saying that I won’t walk into the situation with the same biases as other people.”

  “That’s a good thing,” Aiden said. “Also, you won’t be alone. Adam Latham has agreed to go with you, to provide training and perspective.”

  Autumn visibly winced for a fraction of a second before forcing her face to relax.

  He didn’t miss the movement. “What is it?”

  Adam Latham was one of the partners at Shadley and Latham. Aiden had worked with the man in the past, and had found him manageable and intelligent, if not as intuitively gifted as Autumn or as relentlessly logical and methodical as Latham’s partner, Michael Shadley.

  Autumn frowned as if struggling to find a way to put her reaction into tactful words. She and Aiden weren’t exactly close, although they did share an attraction, and more importantly, a rapport. It was interesting to see her hesitate to come clean about her opinion of her boss.

  After a moment, Autumn started rubbing the back of one hand, as if her wrist was sore. Was she transferring discomfort from the social realm to the physical?

  “It’s just that Adam Latham seems to think he can mansplain his way into my pants.”

  Aiden barked out a laugh, trying to conceal the fact that his fists had clenched at the thought of Latham getting close to her at all. “I haven’t seen that side of him.”

  Autumn’s frown deepened. “Maybe it’s because you’re missing a vagina.”

  Aiden raised a hand. “I believe you. It’s just that I’ve never seen the man in a context where attraction had any relevance whatsoever. Has he made any moves on you? Do I need to take any steps?”

  She visibly bristled, her nostrils flaring as she took in a deep breath. “I can handle him. He will try to be patronizing and take credit for everything I do, then explain to me that ‘our deep, mutual attraction’ is due to the fact that he’s such a good mentor.”

  Aiden’s jaw was hurting from where he was gritting his teeth. “You have his every move planned out, but what if he surprises you?”

  “He won’t.” Autumn pressed her palms down on the desk, as if trying to push the thought of Adam Latham away. She was done discussing him, it was obvious. “I won’t say he’s predictable, but—”

  “But he’s predictable.” Aiden cursed himself for putting her in this situation, but he knew he couldn’t back away from it now. “All right. I’ll sign off on the paperwork recommending you. I have no doubt that you can handle Adam Latham on your own, but if the situation with the investigation becomes complicated and he tries to railroad you or invalidate your opinion to the point where you can’t be effective at your job, then contact me and I’ll step in. Latham himself may not be that much of a challenge, but it’s not clear what the situation in Sawmill will be like. Your boss may be one petty distraction too many. Let me know if that’s the case.”

  “I will. Thank you.” She lifted her hands, shaking the tension out. “When am I leaving?”

  Aiden didn’t think she knew just how tense she’d become for those few minutes, not because she was about to investigate her first murder case mostly on her own, but at the thought of dealing with one of her bosses.

  “Tomorrow morning.” Aiden slid the case notes across the desk to her. “These are for you. I’ll email your itinerary and any updates later this evening.”

  “Thank you.”

  The two of them stood, and Aiden held out a hand, which, after a moment of hesitation, she shook.

  Aiden thought about the day—in the not too distant future, he hoped—when Autumn might change her mind about working with the FBI. Not that he wouldn’t have offered her his support regardless. The world needed more people like Autumn, doing good work.

  “Good luck. Keep your normal intelligence, insight, and clarity about you, and you’ll do just fine. I look forward to hearing your report.”

  She smiled, seeming genuinely pleased. “Thank you for your confidence.”

  It wasn’t until after she’d left that he allowed his nerves, which he had been suppressing, to kick in. He was sending her out to a murder investigation. Who kne
w what might happen to her?

  The suspect showed several unusual, possibly unpredictable elements, ones that not even Aiden himself could analyze without putting his boots on the ground in Oregon.

  He reminded himself that she would be perfectly safe: she would be with Adam Latham. But that thought just made matters worse.

  The murderer—and Adam Latham—had better keep their hands off her, that was all.

  4

  Adam Latham glared at the airplane seat in front of him. The fussy old woman sitting there had slammed the seat back into his knees three times since takeoff, and he was almost ready to start taking retaliatory action. But the non-stop flight from Richmond to Portland would take forever, and he didn’t want to let the woman reduce him into childish behavior less than three minutes into their actual trip.

  Other than that, he was enjoying himself. Rather than dreading the trip the way he normally would, Adam had been looking forward to it. For hours, he would be in close contact with his favorite protégée, Autumn Trent, who sat in the window seat next to him. Even better, they would remain in close contact for days.

  Autumn was a young woman with a lot of promise. She was currently focused on threat-assessment work, which was interesting and challenging, but not the sort of work that would necessarily advance her career.

  Good threat-assessment work was invisible. It meant that newsworthy events didn’t occur.

  It was only when there were errors in one’s assessment that threat-assessment work became memorable. And newsworthy. Worse, a mistake could ruin a bright future before it even began.

  In the short time he’d worked with her, Adam knew that the woman beside him was ambitious. She hadn’t spoken to him directly about her career plans, but she was the sort of person who was driven by an inner passion for her work and a desire for recognition. They had a lot in common.

  The one thing that concerned him about Autumn was that her focus wasn’t always as sharp as her drive. He could understand the allure of interviewing a known serial killer. The opportunity to interview Winter Black’s younger brother must have been too much to pass up.