again.”
“Will do. But first tell me who is the hunk?”
Sunny frowned. “Hunk?” she hedged.
“Chamberlain,” Georgia clarified. “The man has a voice that could melt granite. That spells hunk in my fantasies, not short, fat and bald.”
“I’m gone,” Ned announced and quickly gathered up the notes and files he’d brought with him. “Maybe Milken has something for us.” He practically jogged for the door.
Sunny waited until she and Georgia were alone. “How’d you hear his voice?” she asked in a hushed tone.
She hadn’t dared replay the session herself, afraid of what she might hear—like her own heavy breathing. When she’d arrived at the office, she’d turned the tape over to word processing as a rush job. Not that she was eager to relive the fantasy she’d conjured during the interview, but she did need to thoroughly dissect Wilder’s statement for clues.
Georgia sat on the edge of the chair and leaned forward, resting her arms on Sunny’s desk. “My cubicle’s next to word processing,” she said, keeping her voice low. “When all the gasping and giggling started, I got curious.”
“Oh God.” Sunny closed her eyes and groaned. “They were playing the tape aloud?”
Georgia’s grin widened. “There wasn’t a headset in use. So? Is he as good-looking as he sounds?”
Sunny bit her bottom lip, then shook her head. “We’re federal agents, Georgia.”
“Statistics show that more and more couples are meeting on the job. We’re agents, Mac, and women. With the hours we put in, where else are we going to find a man?”
Georgia did have a point. Hadn’t Sunny just been bemoaning how long it’d been since she’d found a guy who could hold her interest? Duncan certainly had done that…and more.
“So?” Georgia prompted when Sunny remained silent. “Is he or isn’t he?”
Sunny looked toward the door to make certain they wouldn’t be overheard. “That voice,” she whispered, looking back at Georgia, “isn’t all that could melt granite.”
They giggled. Like women, not agents.
“He has these bluish-gray eyes, and they are so intense,” Sunny said once they stopped laughing. “When he looks at you, it’s like he really sees you.”
“Unlike cleavage crawlers,” Georgia said with distaste. “You know the type. They never look you in the eye because they’re too busy staring at your chest.”
Sunny wrinkled her nose. “How would they feel if we stared at their crotches?”
“Like we’re speaking their language. So, is he tall? Short, what?”
“A little over six foot.”
“Hair?”
“Wavy. Black.”
“Ass?”
Sunny grinned. “The nicest I’ve seen in a while.”
“Oh, it’s not fair.” Georgia let out a sigh. “Such luck. Beauty and brains, too.”
Sunny pushed out of her chair and walked to the filing cabinet. “How does a nice ass equal brains?” She pulled open the top drawer for the bottled water she kept on hand.
“Well, he’s not stupid. He made an interesting point when he said if we’re going to nail the UNSUB, we need—” The phone on Sunny’s rang and Georgia automatically reached for it. “It’s probably the clerk’s office.”
Sunny handed Georgia a bottle before she twisted the cap off her own and took a drink. “Need to know his habits,” she said quietly, recalling Duncan’s words during the interview. “His quirks.”
“Special Agent MacGregor’s office,” Georgia said into the receiver.
UNSUB. CID.
How many more terms did he use that she couldn’t immediately recall? And was Duncan’s use of Bureau slang nothing more than a coincidence? He could’ve picked up the terminology from hanging around law-enforcement personnel. Except when he spoke, it’d been…unconscious. Natural.
“Yes, she’s here.” Georgia shook her head, signaling the call wasn’t from the clerk’s office.
Sunny had one of the most powerful databases at her disposal. In a few keystrokes, she could easily satisfy her curiosity. Was it an invasion of privacy if the party wasn’t aware they’d been invaded? she wondered.
“One moment, Agent Caruso.”
Sunny frowned and took the handset from Georgia. “Mac, here.” The only reason any of the agents assigned surveillance of the Wilder estate would call is if something had happened at the scene. The UNSUB was no doubt long gone, so the call probably was nothing more urgent than an eager reporter caught trying to sneak onto the estate or claiming she’d given him permission.
“You gotta see what Quantico is teaching these new kids to do with a laptop and a cell phone. This Eggbert stuff ain’t half bad.”
“Is there a point to this call, Jack?”
“Not really, Mac. Just called to see how it’s hanging.” His gravelly voice was drenched in sarcasm. “You know, in between pissing in the bushes and sweating like a friggin’ pig out here on the hottest day of the year. Hell yes, I have a point. Weidman pulled up something on your boy and I thought you should know about it.”
She wasn’t sure she appreciated Agent Weidman’s checking up on her UNSUB or his aggressiveness. A lead was still a lead, and considering her current level of progress, she’d withhold judgment for the time being. “My apologies, Jack. What’d he find?”
“The kid ran a basic background check. Chamberlain has an impressive résumé with a ton of high-end experience as an investigator.”
“Chamberlain?” As in Duncan Chamberlain, the hottie capable of melting granite and a whole lot more. Not the UNSUB as she’d mistakenly assumed.
Dread crept up her spine and settled in her shoulders. A knot of tension formed at the base of her skull and began to throb in a slow, steady rhythm.
“You wanna take a shot at where he got his training?”
Sunny briefly closed her eyes. “Where?” she asked, even though she had a good idea of the answer.
“Quantico, Virginia, Mac.” Jack’s tone sobered. “The son of a bitch is FBI.”
4
SUNNY APPROACHED THE young, pretty brunette seated at the reception desk of Chamberlain Recovery and Investigations and flashed her ID. “Special Agent MacGregor,” she said, her tone brusque. “FBI. Is Mr. Chamberlain in?”
The receptionist’s wide-set
