Carla Cassidy

Scene of the Crime: Black Creek


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she wanted to voice. No, they hadn’t worked well together. Mick had driven her crazy with his laid-back ways, outrageous flirting and disregard for schedules.

      Still, she had to admit that when it came to the actual work process their two different styles had melded together well for success.

      “In both of these cases,” Forbes continued, “the victims appear to be a specific physical type. The men were dark-haired, in good shape, and the women were small in stature and blonde.”

      Cassie felt a sinking sensation in the middle of her stomach. Surely she was misunderstanding what Forbes had in mind.

      “Exactly what is our assignment?” she asked.

      “Bait,” Forbes replied.

      “Bait?” Cassie parroted and slowly turned to look at Mick.

      The corners of his sensual lips turned upward as he gazed at her. “Looks like we’re going to be newlyweds.”

      * * *

      MICK WATCHED THE COLOR BLANCH from Cassie’s cheeks, although her pale face remained completely emotionless. She wouldn’t show her displeasure at the idea in front of Daniel Forbes. She was too much a professional for that.

      Having grown up with three older sisters, Mick had always believed he had a pretty good handle on women, but Cassie Miller had been a mystery from the moment he’d met her seven months before.

      She’d come to the Kansas City field office straight from Quantico a year ago and had quickly built a reputation for being intelligent, hard working and a loner.

      In the month that Mick had worked with her, he’d found her to be irritatingly obsessive-compulsive, rigid and for some strange reason hotter than hell.

      She mystified him like no other woman ever had, and on that night when he’d encouraged her to share a bottle of champagne and they’d wound up in bed, she’d released a passionate wildness that had made him unable to completely forget that night no matter how hard he’d tried.

      He refocused his attention on his boss, listening to the plans for the next day. “You will be checking into the Sweetheart Suites tomorrow night as newlyweds Cassie and Mick Crawford. Your new identification and background information is also in the folders. But before that, you are to meet Sheriff Lambert at the Dew Drop Café in Cobb’s Corner at two. He’ll tell you the rest of the arrangements that have been made for the two of you. This isn’t about how well you can investigate the murder. Leave that to the local law enforcement and the other agents I’m sending in. Your job is to strictly play to the victimology of the killer and nothing more. Be a couple of happy honeymooners and let the killer come to you.”

      Mick hazarded a glance at Cassie, who still looked slightly shell-shocked. He had worked undercover many times, but he was relatively certain that Cassie never had before. There were hazards and tricks she would have to learn, and he wasn’t sure she would be a willing student or a quick study. Time would tell.

      He once again focused his attention on Forbes, who was finishing up the details of the assignment. “By the time you check in tomorrow afternoon we’ll have a surveillance team in place in the cabin next to yours. We’re not about to throw the two of you in the path of a killer without a little backup.”

      “And that’s what I like about you,” Mick said with his usual humor. Cassie didn’t crack a smile. Mick sighed inwardly. He had a feeling this was going to be a brief but difficult marriage.

      Once the meeting was finished, he and Cassie stepped out of the office. “This should be interesting,” he said.

      “I just want you to know that I’m not happy to be working with you again,” she said, her bright blue eyes flashing a cold ire. “Working the Samuel case with you was an unpleasant experience I’d rather forget.”

      “There were moments of it that I’ll never forget.” He knew they were the wrong words to say the instant they left his mouth.

      Her cheeks flushed a bright pink and her blue eyes narrowed slightly. “A momentary lapse of judgment on my part that will never happen again. I’m going home to pack and get ready for this charade. I’ll meet you here at seven in the morning.”

      She didn’t give him an opportunity to reply, but rather spun on her heels and hurried down the hallway away from him. He watched her go, his head filled with myriad thoughts. At least she hadn’t pretended she didn’t remember that night with him.

      Of course, it would have been hard to forget the morning after, when she’d shoved him from the bed to the floor and told him to get out of her apartment. “Forget this happened,” she’d said. “Forget my address. In fact, forget my name.” She’d chased him from the bedroom to the door in a state of barely contained rage.

      “Don’t forget to pack your bathing suit,” he now called after her. Her only response was a visible stiffening of her slender shoulders as she continued on her way.

      When she disappeared from the hallway, Mick shook his head ruefully. It was definitely the first time he’d had a reaction like that from a woman he’d had sex with, a woman he’d spent the night with.

      Minutes later as he left the field office and drove north toward the house he’d bought a year ago with the intention of renovating, he turned his thoughts to everything that would need to be done before taking off in the morning.

      It was already after four. He’d go home, throw some clothing in a duffel bag and then spend the rest of the evening studying the files he’d been given.

      There was nothing Mick liked better than hunting killers, and he was good at what he did. Unfortunately, this time he wouldn’t be the hunter, and if all things went the way they were supposed to, he and Cassie would be the hunted.

      The whole operation was risky. It was possible the killer wouldn’t take them as bait, possible that another couple would wind up dead in their place.

      The drive to his home took twenty minutes, and by the time he pulled into his driveway he couldn’t wait to study the particulars of the crime.

      He stifled a mental groan as he pulled up in his driveway alongside his eldest sister’s car. At forty-two years old, Lynnette had lost her husband a year ago in a tragic car accident. The two had never had children, and once the initial grieving stage had passed she’d taken to nurturing Mick like she had when they’d been kids.

      “Something smells good,” he said as he walked through the front door. He headed directly to the kitchen, where he knew he’d find Lynnette.

      “Some of my baked ziti and garlic bread.” Lynnette turned from the oven and smiled at him. “I fixed too much yesterday and thought I’d bring some of the leftover to you.”

      He set the folder on the table and sat as she motioned him down in the chair. “Let’s see, two days ago you made too much meat loaf. Before that I seem to remember some beef stew magically appearing in my refrigerator.”

      “What can I say? I like to cook and I always cook too much.” She placed a plate in front of him, the scent of her homemade tangy tomato sauce creating a rumble in the pit of his stomach.

      “You do realize I’m thirty-four and pretty well grown. You don’t have to cook for me,” he said, picking up his fork and digging into the tasty pasta dish.

      She flashed him her beautiful smile as she sat across from him at the table. “To me you’ll always be that five-year-old little charmer that Patsy, Eileen and I worked so hard on to curl your hair and paint your fingernails in an effort to make you our fourth sister.”

      Mick shot her a mock scathing look and reached for a piece of garlic bread. “You know that experience scarred me for life and was the reason I decided to get one of the most macho jobs on the planet.”

      Lynnette laughed. “But you did make a really pretty sister.” She sobered slightly. “Of course what we’d really like is for you to get married and give us a lovely sister-in-law.”