CHAPTER FIVE

When Chloe and Moulton arrived at Garcia’s office, Director Johnson was already there, waiting for them. It appeared that he and Garcia had been looking through case files; Garcia had a few pulled up on his desktop screen while Johnson had a small pile of printouts in front of him.

“Thanks for coming so quickly,” Johnson said. “We’ve got a case out in Virginia—a small town on the other side of Fredericksburg, in an upscale neighborhood. And I should probably start with saying that the victim’s family has some very powerful political friends. That’s why we’ve been called in. Well, that and the gruesome nature of the death.”

As Chloe took a seat at the small table in the back of Garcia’s office, she did her best not to seem too obvious that she was trying to create some distance between herself and Moulton. She knew that she was probably glowing, beaming from the way the night and the morning had gone. She wasn’t sure how Johnson might react to any kind of relationship between them and she honestly didn’t want to test it.

“What are we looking at?” Chloe asked.

“Four days ago, a husband came home from work to find his wife dead,” Garcia said. “But it was more than that. She had not only been murdered, but brutally so. There were multiple stab wounds—sixteen by the coroner’s count. The crime scene was a mess…blood everywhere. It’s unlike anything the local PD has ever seen.”

He slid a folder over to Chloe with a look of warning on his face. Chloe took it and opened it slowly. She peered inside, saw just a flash of the crime scene photo, and then closed it just as quickly. Based on her one glimpse alone, it looked more like a slaughterhouse than a murder scene.

“Who is the victim’s family friends with?” Moulton asked. “You said someone in politics, right?”

“I’d really rather not give out that information,” Johnson said. “We don’t want it to seem as if the bureau plays favorites when it comes to bipartisan matters.”

“What’s the level of local police involvement?” Chloe asked.

“They’ve kicked off a county-wide manhunt and have the State PD involved,” Garcia said. “But they’re being asked to keep it quiet. The local PD is understandably upset because they feel like we’re hindering a case that is already a bit outside of their comfort zone. So I need you to get down there as soon as you possibly can. Also…and please listen closely: I thought of you two for this case because of how well you’ve worked together in the past. And Agent Fine, you seem to have a knack for this small-town, isolated community sort of crime. However, if the case itself and those crime scene photos make you feel uneasy—like it might be a little too much for you to handle at this stage of your career—let me know now. I won’t judge and it won’t count as any sort of mark against you.”

Chloe and Moulton exchanged a look and she could see that he was just as eager as she was to take the case. Still, unable to help himself, Moulton took a look at what was inside the folder. He grimaced a bit as he flipped past the few crime scene photos and scanned the very brief report in the back. He then looked back over to Chloe and gave a nod.

“We’re good as far as I’m concerned,” Chloe said.

“Same here,” Moulton said. “And I appreciate the opportunity.”

“Glad to hear it,” Johnson said, getting to his feet. “I’m excited to see what you two can do. Now…get moving. You’ve got some driving to do.”

***

Moulton was behind the wheel of the bureau car, heading off of the beltway and heading toward Virginia. Barnes Point was only an hour and twenty minutes away, but the Beltway made just about anywhere feel like it was on the other side of the planet.

“You sure about this?” he asked.

“About which part?”

“Working together on a case like this. I mean…we were making out like two horny teenagers about ten hours ago. Will you be able to keep your hands off of me while we’re working?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Chloe said, “but after what I saw in that folder, doing that with you again is the farthest thing from my mind.”

Moulton nodded his understanding. He veered off onto the next ramp, hit a straight stretch, and stepped on the gas. “All jokes aside, though…I enjoyed last night. Even before the part back at your place. And I’d like to do it again. But with work…”

“We should remain strictly professional,” she finished for him.

“Exactly. And, to that end,” he said, sliding his iPad out of the hollowed center of the console, “I downloaded the case files while you were packing.”

“Did you not pack?”

“You saw my bag. Yes, I packed. But I’m quick about it.” He shot her a cute little sly grin as he said this, indicating that she had perhaps taken a bit longer than he had expected. “I didn’t get a chance to look it over, though.”

“Ah, some light reading material,” Chloe said.

They both chuckled and when Moulton rested his hand on her knee while she started to read the file, Chloe wasn’t sure they would be able to keep it professional.

She perused the case files, reading the important parts out loud for Moulton. They found that Garcia and Johnson had done a fine job of summing it up. The police report was quite detailed, as well as the pictures. They were still no easier to look at and Chloe didn’t blame the local PD. She figured any small-town police force might be out of their element on something this violent and bloody.

They shared thoughts and theories and by the time they passed a sign telling them that Barnes Point was fifteen miles away, Chloe had changed her mind. She thought they would be capable of working professionally together. She had spent the last few weeks so wrapped up in her physical attraction to him that she had nearly forgotten how sharp and intuitive he could be when it came to casework.

The idea then occurred to her that if they could truly make this work, she might have what just about every woman on the planet desired: a man who respected her as an equal in career and intellect but also in the bedroom.

You’re not even a day into this, a voice said in her head. Danielle’s voice again. Are you really getting all dreamy and ga-ga about it already? Jesus, you made out with him for a few hours and didn’t even sleep together. You barely know him and—

But Chloe chose to shut those thoughts away.

She then turned her attention to the coroner’s report. It told the same story Johnson had told them, but in more detail. And it was these details that she focused on. The blood, the violence, the potential political motive. She read them over, studying with intense focus.

“I’m thinking this isn’t politically motivated,” she said. “I don’t think the killer was too concerned with the powerful political friends that the Hilyards might have had.”

“I heard confidence in that statement,” Moulton said. “Please explain.”

“Lauren Hilyard was stabbed sixteen times. And every single wound was centered in the abdomen area, with only a single stray one slicing into her left breast. The coroner reports that the wounds were ragged and almost on top of one another, indicating someone made stabbing motions one right behind the other. The note here in the reports says: as if in a blind rage or frenzy. If this was the act of someone with political motivation, there would likely be some sort of message or other indicator.”

“Okay, then,” Moulton said. “I’m on board. It’s not politically motivated.”

“That was easy.”

He shrugged and said, “I’m coming to understand that people in DC think everything has political motivations. So what if the Hilyards maybe sort of kind of know someone higher up in a political office. Not everyone is going to care.”

“I like the way you think,” she said. “But I don’t know that we rule it out one hundred percent just yet.”

They were closing in on Barnes Point, and the fact that they had been entrusted to round up a case with potential political ties was not lost on her. It was an amazing opportunity for both of them and she had to make sure that was where her focus was for the time being. For now, nothing was more important than that—not suddenly reappearing estranged fathers, not the voice of her stubborn and joy-dead sister…not even a potentially perfect romance with the man sitting next to her.

For now, there was the case and only the case. And that was more than enough for her.

CHAPTER SIX

Barnes Point was a quiet yet cute city, with a population right at nine thousand. The Hilyard residence sat just outside the city limits, in a little subdivision called Farmington Acres. The victim’s husband, Jerry Hilyard, had not yet been able to bring himself to return to his home since discovering his wife’s body; with no immediate family living nearby, he had been invited to say elsewhere in the neighborhood, with close friends.

“I think I might have needed to get farther away than just a few houses down,” Moulton said. “I mean, can you imagine what this poor guy is going through?”

“But he might also need to be close to his home,” Chloe suggested. “To the place where he and his wife had shared a life together.”

Moulton seemed to consider this as he drove their rental car further into the subdivision, toward the address the State Police had forwarded them while they’d been en route. It was yet another example of how Chloe was beginning to both understand and respect the fluidity of the way the bureau worked. It was hard to imagine that just about any information she needed—addresses, phone numbers, work histories, criminal records—was readily available, just a call or email away. She assumed agents eventually got used to this, but for now, she still felt quite privileged to be part of such a system.

They arrived at the address and walked to the door. The mailbox read Lovingston and the house itself was a carbon copy of just about all of the other homes in the neighborhood. It was the sort of neighborhood where the houses were right on top of one another but the environment was quiet—a good place for kids to learn to ride their bikes and probably a lot of fun during Halloween and Christmas.

Chloe knocked on the door and it was answered right away by a woman with a baby in her arms.

“Are you Mrs. Lovingston?” Chloe asked.

“I am. And you must be the FBI agents. We got a call from the police a while ago saying you’d be on your way.”

“Is Jerry Hilyard still staying here?” Moulton asked.

A man appeared behind the woman, coming from the open room to the left. “Yeah, I’m still here,” he said. He joined Mrs. Lovingston at the door and leaned against the door frame. He looked absolutely exhausted, apparently not having slept well ever since he had lost his wife in such a brutal fashion.

Mrs. Lovingston turned to him and gave him a glare that made Chloe think the baby in her arms might be in for some nasty looks in the future. “You sure you’re up to this?” the woman asked him.

“I’m fine, Claire,” he said. “Thanks.”

She nodded, held her baby tighter to her chest, and headed back elsewhere in the house.

“Come on in, I guess,” Jerry said.

He led them into the same room he had come in from. It looked to be a small den of sorts, mostly decorated with books and two elegant-looking chairs. Jerry fell into one of the chairs as if his bones were starting to give out on him.

“I know Claire might seem a little hesitant about you being here,” Jerry said. “But…she and Lauren were good friends. She thinks I need to be grieving…which I am. It’s just…”

He stopped here and Chloe could see him wrestling with a flood of emotion, trying to make it through this conversation without crumbling in front of them.

“Mr. Hilyard, I’m Agent Fine and this is my partner, Agent Moulton. I was wondering if you might be able to tell us about any political ties your family might have.”