No, dammit, that hadn’t been what he meant when he’d asked if she was good. “Agnes…”
“I’ll stay awake. Promise. And it’s not like I fell asleep. I was…just resting my eyes.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m good,” she repeated, stubbornness entering her voice.
He turned back to the front. Gripped the handlebars. A moment later, they were hurtling through the night.
Gray didn’t always go into the field. Okay, fine, the truth was that his bosses didn’t want him in the field. They kept promoting his ass through the ranks, and at this rate, all they wanted him to do was sit in the office, make profiles, and be a pompous dick who ordered other agents around.
He did have the pompous dick part down to an art, but…
Every now and then, he definitely liked walking back into the field.
Night had fallen. He’d hopped on a quick flight, then rented a car to get to his current destination. A crime scene at a no-tell motel. The local sheriff had been stunned that the Feds had any interest in the random motel shooting in the middle of nowhere, Mississippi.
But Gray knew it wasn’t random. And he had to clean up after people some days. Such was life. And death.
He paused a moment outside room four at the Grove Motel. Gray surveyed the scene, then he cut through the crime scene tape on the broken door.
“I think someone died in there.” A quiet voice to his left.
He turned. Saw the kid. Maybe seven or eight years old.
Hell. He had a soft spot for kids. Especially kids with big, scared eyes. Kids who were huddled in rundown motels.
Because I was one of those kids a long time ago.
“Nah, no one died in there,” he assured the kid. Not like he wanted to give her nightmares.
Her breath expelled in a relieved rush.
Someone died in the exact spot I’m standing in. Right here. Not in the room. He could see the blood drops. Automatically, though, he directed his flashlight away from those blood drops. Not like he wanted the kid getting terrified.
“Naomi!” A woman’s sharp cry.
Ah, that would be the mother.
She rushed out of a room about five doors down. She saw her kid talking to a strange man and immediately freaked the hell out.
Good for her.
“Naomi!” The mom broke into a run. She grabbed Naomi by the shoulders and yanked her back. “What have I told you about never talking to strangers?”
“He has a gun, Mom,” Naomi said.
“Oh, God.” Naomi’s mom shoved her daughter behind her back.
“I’m an FBI agent, ma’am.” Gray flashed his ID. Even illuminated it with his flashlight. All while still making sure that he did not shine that light on the bloodstains beneath him. He was a master multitasker that way.
Despite seeing the badge, the mom still scuttled back with her daughter.
“Your daughter is safe with me,” Gray assured her. His head angled to the side. “Your mom is right, Naomi. Don’t talk to strangers. Especially not at night. In front of strange motel rooms.”
The mom bolted with the kid.
Her door slammed seconds later. Gray was fairly certain furniture would be pulled in front of that door for extra security. Good choice.
