Free Dead Even by Mariah Stewart Page B

on a crisp late November morning. Layers of leaves crackling as they moved, single file, through the early mist, following the trail of a killer on Miranda’s second day in the field. They’d met in the parking lot at dawn, after they’d been called in to help search the woods for a man believed to have shot and killed several customers in a convenience-store robbery, and had taken a live hostage. The hostage was a woman who happened to work for the Bureau, and the team had been gathered in record time. Later Miranda admitted to herself—though she’d have died before she’d have admitted it to him—that she’d been a bit starstruck at working on a case with Will. He was well known around the Bureau for being intuitive, smart, and capable, and was respected by his fellow agents for his easygoing manner and keen humor. The men counted themselves lucky if they called him friend. Most of the women wanted to call him something else.
    Miranda had been impressed with his handling of the case, with the respect he showed the body they found tossed behind some rocks and covered with leaves and brush. She’d been almost flustered—almost—when, hours later, after their work was completed, the evidence gathered, the body removed, he’d asked her to join him for a bite to eat.
    He’d taken her to a Middle Eastern restaurant downtown, where they’d eaten and talked and laughed until midnight. They’d connected, right from the start, on several levels. Certainly the chemistry had been dynamic. Even now, her cheeks burned as she recalled that she’d taken him home, and he’d stayed the night. Something she’d never, ever done in her life—before or since. Mostly she hadn’t even kissed on the first date. But there’d been something about him that had turned her inside out and had banished rational thought along with most of her inhibitions.
    Of course, it had made for an awkward next morning, an awkward day in the office. She’d been spared having an awkward week or two, however, since Will had been sent to Florida to assist in a drug bust. By the time he returned, she was in North Carolina, investigating the kidnapping and assault of several young girls on the Outer Banks.
    It had been several months before she’d seen him again.
    Will appeared as if out of the air and plunked a file down on an empty chair. “I’ll just grab a cup from the buffet, and I’ll be right back.”
    Miranda moved the window curtain aside and watched the neighborhood kids gather at the bus stop on the opposite side of the street.
    “So what’s your plan, Agent Fletcher?” she asked when Will returned.
    He sipped slowly at his coffee, then set the cup back into the saucer. “We’ve already agreed that we need to identify people from Channing’s past who may have irritated him sufficiently that he might have wanted a little revenge. Other than Albert Unger, of course.”
    “Right. And I suppose you’ve come up with a means of identifying them?”
    “I’ve come up with a starting point.”
    “Which would be . . . ?”
    “I think we need to start at the beginning, with Claire Channing.”
    “Curtis’s foster mother.” Miranda nodded. “Good choice. She might know of someone from his past who had done something that Channing might have wanted revenge for.”
    “And from there, we move on to Albert Unger. We can stop and see him while we’re in Ohio. Maybe he’ll know of someone Channing had a problem with.”
    “Unger, yes. I guess that’s as good a place as any. I don’t recall there being too many other people from his past mentioned in the file.”
    “There wasn’t anyone else mentioned. Just these two.”
    “So when would you like to go?”
    “You tell me. You’re in charge of the case.” He drained his cup and, without waiting for her reply, pushed his chair back and returned to the buffet for a refill.
    “Is that bothering you?” she asked when he sat down again. “That John made me the lead on this