Evidence of Passion by Cynthia Eden Page A

criminal profiles.
    Mercer had originally used Noelle in an attempt to catch a rogue agent at the EOD. Noelle had created a profile to lead them all to the killer.
    But that case is over, so why is Noelle still here?
    Rachel was seated between Thomas and Dylan. Mercer and Noelle settled in the chairs across from them. Rachel noticed that Noelle’s hazel gaze darted toward Thomas.
    A quick glance showed Rachel that Thomas’s stare was locked right on the profiler.
    Interesting. Thomas didn’t make a habit of showing obvious interest in anyone or anything.
    “Our security team finished their sweeps.” Mercer’s voice filled the room. He had that kind of voice. Strong. A little too loud. He was obviously used to barking orders. It was only too easy for Rachel to imagine Mercer as a drill sergeant. She’d bet a hundred bucks he had been at one time.
    “The guy knows his B and E,” Mercer continued. “No prints, no trace evidence at your place, Rachel.”
    She’d expected that.
    Mercer’s focus shifted to Dylan. “But it looks as if things got a little more personal for him at your place.”
    Wait, what was that supposed to mean?
    Then Mercer reached into a small briefcase and pulled out an evidence bag. He pushed a frame across the table at them. “Unless you’re the one who smashed this picture, Agent Foxx?”
    Rachel leaned forward to get a better view of the framed image. It was a photo of her and Dylan. It had been taken after their mission in Panama last year. They’d been so happy to get the hostages out of that place alive.
    “No.” Dylan’s voice was clipped. “I didn’t smash it.”
    “I figured you hadn’t, but I needed to be sure.” Mercer left the frame on the table. A few shards of broken glass remained on top of the photo. “We found it inside your nightstand drawer.”
    “That’s where it usually is,” Dylan said. Again, his words were clipped.
    Rachel’s gaze jumped to him. He kept a photo of them in his bedroom?
    Dylan didn’t look her way, so Rachel glanced toward Mercer and Noelle once more.
    Noelle’s gaze was studying her. Rachel didn’t like that particular look from the profiler. It made her feel a little too much like a bug under a microscope.
    “I hoped Jack had cut himself on the glass, but...” Mercer exhaled on a long sigh. “No such luck. No doubt he was wearing gloves. The gloves would explain why there were no prints and no blood.”
    “We were just minutes behind him,” Thomas said. He gave a disgusted shake of his head. “But he still just disappeared.”
    “He’s good at that,” Mercer replied. “Too good.” Then he glanced over at Noelle. “And that’s why we have to make him come out into the open.”
    Rachel had known this would be coming. Mercer’s bait plan, no doubt. He’d want to use her—
    “Agent Foxx, you’re going to draw Jack out for us.”
    “What?” Rachel’s voice rose with her surprise. Dylan wasn’t supposed to be bait. He couldn’t be bait.
    But Dylan just nodded and said, “Bring it.”
    No, no, this was not happening.
    Her hand slammed down on the table. “You all don’t understand—”
    “Actually,” Mercer said, cutting through her angry words, “I think I do. And Noelle, here, she’s very good at predicting what killers will do. She understands them particularly well.”
    Noelle gave a firm nod. The light reflected off the lenses of her glasses. “He isn’t going to kill you, Rachel. You don’t have to worry about that.”
    A laugh escaped her. A broken, twisted laugh. “Really? He’s not? Because when he drugged me, tied me up and shot me before, I certainly got the impression that Jack wanted me dead.”
    Noelle held her stare. There was sympathy in the profiler’s gaze. “I’m very sorry for what happened to you, but—and this isn’t to make light of the situation in any way—”
    Was the woman serious? Rachel’s hands balled into fists in her lap.
    “But if Jack had truly wanted to kill you, then