Scene of the Crime: Baton Rouge

“I have some contacts in the agency,” Michelle said, “and they pointed me to Sam Connelly, Amberly Caldwell and Jackson Revannaugh as three of the best profilers who had all recently solved fairly high-profile cases. I decided to showcase them in the book as some of the best of the best when it comes to catching killers.”

“And exactly how did you do your research?” Georgina asked.

“She sure as hell didn’t kidnap the agents,” Jax exclaimed in obvious irritation.

Michelle ignored his outburst. “Unfortunately none of the agents would grant me interviews, so I did my research the hard way—by getting files on the cases they’d worked, by reading every article and news item I could find. I traveled to Mystic Lake and here to Baton Rouge to talk to some of the people who were involved with the crimes. I talked to the people in the towns, friends of the missing people. I also tried to talk to friends of the FBI agents. Unfortunately they all refused to talk to me.”

Her chin rose defensively. “I worked hard to write the stories of heroes and the criminals that they caught. I saw in the paper this morning that a task force had been formed to deal with the case of the missing FBI agents. I knew you’d be coming to question me, but I can’t help you. I don’t know what happened to them. I can’t help you in any way in your investigation.”

Jax stood and placed an arm around Michelle’s shoulder. “Are we through here?”

“One more question...where were the two of you four nights ago?” Alex asked.

“At my home in New Orleans,” Michelle answered without hesitation. She exchanged a glance with Jax.

“Do the two of you live together?” Georgina asked.

Michelle hesitated a beat before replying. “No, but Jax spends most nights at my place. I’m sure he was with me four nights ago.”

Jax squeezed her shoulder. “And now I think we’re through here.” Michelle rose as if his hand on her shoulder was a magical wand that lifted her off the stool.

“Where can we reach you if we need to ask you more questions?” Alex asked.

“I’m leaving tomorrow on a book tour. If you’ll give me your email or fax number I’ll have my agent send you my itinerary,” Michelle said.

Alex pulled a card from his pocket. “My cell phone and email is there. If I don’t get that itinerary from your agent by noon tomorrow, then we’re going to have problems.”

Michelle nodded and the two of them left the coffee shop.

“Want another coffee?” Alex asked.

“No thanks. I think I’m ready to call it a day.” She knew they’d talk about this little interview in the car, but once the author and her boyfriend had disappeared from sight, the phone call Georgina had received filled her head once again.

Minutes later they were in Alex’s car and headed toward her house. “I feel inclined to do a little background check on Mr. Jax White,” Alex said.

“Probably wouldn’t hurt,” she agreed. “There was just a moment when Michelle said that Jax was with her on the night that Jackson and Marjorie disappeared that I didn’t quite believe her.”

“Maybe he decided to help his lover get a little extra publicity with her book,” Alex said. “He’s big enough to carry bodies over his shoulders and he looks like a man who might have a record.”

“And he knew I was an FBI agent and had time before they met us here to make that phone call.” Her stomach ached as she thought of the call.

They spoke no more until he pulled into her driveway. He cut the engine, turned out the car lights and then looked at her, his features visible in the streetlight next to her driveway.

“You want me to take your cell phone?” he asked.

She frowned at him in surprise. “Why would I want you to do that?”

“In case he calls again...so you don’t have to deal with it.”

“If he calls again it’s because for some reason he wants to talk to me. You can’t protect me, Alex. I can handle this. I’m fine.”

She saw the frown that shot across his brow. “You’re always so damn strong, Georgina. You never need anyone.”

She drew in a breath. “Are we talking about a phone call or are we discussing personal history?”

Leaning his head back, he raked a hand through his thick dark hair. “I don’t know, maybe a little of both,” he admitted.