by Robin Mahle
“That’s right. Because you’ll be in Hotlanta tomorrow, so you can’t bring me back here. You got a job to do.”
She helped him into the car and closed the door without a reply—his regional reference to the city of Atlanta shrugged off. The engine started with ease and the air blew cold. It was still much too warm, even at ten o’clock at night.
“So you talk to that kid—um—what’s his name—Caison?” Nick asked.
“Not for the past few weeks. He’s been pretty busy in Louisville. I think he’s happy, though.”
“Good. Glad to hear it. He’s a good kid. Some might even call him good-looking.” Nick cast a suspicious eye her way.
“I suppose so.” She didn’t like where this was going. Kate and Will had remained friends but had seen each other only a couple of times since they graduated. And that was only because he had to come into town for something at Quantico. Some sort of counterterrorism training, he’d said. If Nick was looking to really get under her skin right now, reminding her that she’d slept with Will once was the way to do it. She didn’t care to be reminded of her faults.
Nick kept his attention on her as she drove out of the parking lot, but didn’t say anything further on the matter. Perhaps, even three sheets to the wind, he realized it best not to bring up what’d happened between the two of them.
The rest of the drive back to Nick’s place was quiet. Kate turned on the radio to fill the void. “You need help getting up to your apartment?” She pulled alongside the building’s front entrance.
“How drunk do you think I am?” Nick pushed open the passenger door. “No thank you. I don’t need any help, but I appreciate the ride.” When he closed the door again, Nick leaned into the open window. “Hey, maybe you can give me a call when you get back from Atlanta?”
She could see he regretted his earlier remarks and maybe even regretted having had so much to drink. A tender smile appeared on her lips. “Of course I will. Good night, Nick.”
“Good night, Kate.” On his way toward the entrance, a booming voice erupted from him. “Have a safe flight,” he said, and a flailing arm waved high in the air.
FOUR
The wheels touched down at Hartsfield-Jackson Airport in Atlanta right on time. Dark clouds hung low, saturated and ready to open at any moment. Kate remained seated, glancing through the small, oval-shaped window and wishing she’d remembered her umbrella. “How are we doing for time?”
Dwight checked his phone. “We’ll make it, assuming they let us out of here sometime in the next few minutes.” He leaned over the arm of his aisle seat, noting that the passengers were not moving.
Although Dwight, her good friend and now temporary mentor, was sitting right next to her, Kate felt alone. It was the first time she would work on an investigation without Nick. He’d been a part of her life since her old life. He wouldn’t be there to lean on. Dwight was senior to her, of course, but the dynamics they shared were completely different. Perhaps it was a good thing. He treated her like a partner, not someone who he felt he had to take under his wing. Things hadn’t started out that way with Nick, but since Marshall died, she knew he took it upon himself to guide her.
“Come on.” Dwight reached under the seat for his bag. “Looks like they’re moving now.”
They deplaned and made their way inside the airport. Kate noticed Agent Lyons in the distance as they continued to the terminal exit. She was fairly confident of his identity, considering the fact that when he raised his arm, she spotted his weapon. Any law enforcement officer was allowed to carry a sidearm into airports and even onto flights, assuming they’d been through the required training, so this was of no surprise to her. “I see him over there.”
Agent Lyons smiled a broad and welcoming grin. “Agents Jameson and Reid, very nice to meet you.” His hand gripped Kate’s with firm resolve.
“Pleasure,” Dwight replied. “So, where are we off to?”
Lyons led the way outside. “Let’s head over to my office first and I’ll show you what we’ve got so far.” He stopped and turned on his heel. “I have to tell you. I’ve got a bad feeling about this one.”
Dwight exchanged a brief glance with Kate. “We’ve seen our fair share of bad things, Agent Lyons.”
He immediately looked at Kate. “I’ll bet you have.”
It appeared as though he had already done his homework, as far as Kate was concerned. She’d seen that look plenty of times but had learned that her past couldn’t be changed. It made her who she was today and if someone had a problem with that, then to hell with them. “Are you working with the Jacksonville Field Office on this too?” A change of topic would solve this little issue.
“They were kind enough to defer the situation to us over here,” Lyons replied.
“And you called us?”
“Well, Agent Reid, if this is what I think it is, and from what I know of Agent Scarborough and his team, you all are far better suited to handle this than we are. By the way, I understand Scarborough is fighting his way through some red tape. Happens to the best of us and I hope he gets things sorted out.”
“So do we,” Dwight replied.
The weather made up its mind and decided to soak the city by the time they arrived at the Atlanta office.
“Sorry about the rain.” Lyons pushed his way through the front entrance. “This warm weather’s wreaked havoc on us. Had more rain this month than we did in July.” He shook the water off his arms and pushed his hand through his dampened hair to smooth it back into place. “Probably not much better where you’re at.”
“No, not much better at all.” Dwight hadn’t worn a jacket over his shirt and tie, due to the heat, so he now looked as though he’d entered a wet t-shirt contest.
Kate grinned at him as she removed the sweater she’d carried with her on the plane. It helped a little, but she was still pretty damp. “May I use the ladies’ room?” she asked Lyons.
“Right over there.” He pointed toward his left. “Around the corner from the elevators.”
“Thanks.” Kate walked away as the men waited, presumably discussing the investigation. She’d seen something in Lyons’ face that set her off and taking a moment to clear her thoughts was the only way she could figure out how to handle it.
Maybe it was what he’d said about Nick, or the way he looked at her earlier. He was rubbing her the wrong way and she had no idea why. She grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and dabbed her face to absorb the drops without smudging her makeup. Looking into the mirror, she tried to search her memory for anything that might make sense as to why the disconcerting feeling about this guy, but nothing came to mind.
She couldn’t stay in the restroom forever and so whatever it was would come to surface sooner or later. Right now, she was working a case and that had to take priority. Kate tossed the crumpled paper towel into the trashcan and walked out, making her way back to the waiting agents. “Sorry about that. All better now.”
“Great. Let’s head up to my office.” Lyons took the lead once again.
“You all right?” Dwight asked.
She nodded.
Arriving on the second floor, Lyons pointed them in the direction of his office. “Come on in and have a seat.” He made his way to his desk and began typing on his computer.
Kate and Dwight settled in for only a moment when another agent arrived.
“Forgive the interruption,” he began. “I’m Agent Faulkner.” A brief greeting was exchanged. “I work with Lyons and he asked me to sit in on this with you.”
“Nice to meet you,” Dwight said. “Agent Lyons, you mentioned you believed this investigation was more suited to BAU. Would you care to elaborate?”
“A few weeks ago, two boys found the body of a young woman in the Saint Marys River.”
“I saw a little bit about that on the news,” Kate added.
“Right. Well, the other day, another body was found further upstream and it was a woman of similar age.”
“And you believe these are connected in what way?” Dwight continued.
A file folder containing images of both bodies and the crime scenes where they were discovered appeared in the agent’s hands. Lyons opened it up and began, “According to the autopsy reports, the latter we received just the other morning and prompted my call to you, they indicate both bodies were dumped in or around the Okefenokee Swamp and traveled downstream along the river.”
“Do we have an ID on either of the victims?” Dwight asked.
“Not yet. The first victim was in the water for some time. An alligator got a hold of her first, but then fish, floating debris—they all left their mark. We do know that she was already gone before her body hit the water.”
“That’s why it traveled so far downstream. If the victim had still been alive, the body would have remained at the bottom of the swamp for some time, having ingested water into the lungs,” Dwight began. “While I’m confident water did eventually enter the lungs, the reason the body traveled the distance it did was because of the gasses in the abdomen that formed almost immediately upon her death. Probably kept her afloat before water found its way in. She went down for a while further along the line until the bacteria in her gut continued to grow and so did the gasses.”
“That’s right, Agent Jameson,” Lyons said. “Buoyancy is inevitable unless one was tied down with bricks and, even then, sometimes that’s not enough.”
“Okay, so the first victim was discovered quite a ways from the suspected initial disposal site. What about the second victim? I think you mentioned she was found sooner and not as far downstream,” Kate said.
“We’re waiting on confirmation from the coroner, but the victims matched too closely to be a coincidence. Similar features, hair color, very slender. Aged, we believe, to be between twenty and twenty-five.” This time, it was Faulkner who spoke.
“The cause of death in both victims wasn’t drowning by your own admission. If that wasn’t the cause of death,” Kate said. “Then what was?”
» » »
Jim Lasseter was the field coordinator of NCAVC (National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime). He was Nick’s boss’ boss. BAU field agents ultimately fell under his direction, and while Nick admired the man, he’d grown impatient by his lack of decision-making with regards to the matter at hand.
The problem, as far as Nick was concerned, was Agent Hughes. He’d testified before the review group that Nick had no cause to shoot the suspect, that the man hadn’t raised his weapon.
It was a crock of shit from Nick’s perspective. Hughes arrived after the girl had fallen and both he and the suspect believed she was dead. Nick knew what he saw and he saw the suspect raise his gun, ready to fire. Nick put him down just as Hughes would’ve done. Hell, any of them would have done the same. However, if Nick was being honest with himself, he’d admit that he couldn’t be sure the man was about to fire on him. No matter how many times he told himself, he only remembered looking at the girl, believing she was gone and that the suspect had been the one to kill her. So he shot his weapon—it was a split second decision. Agent Hughes just happened to approach at that very same moment.
Lasseter arrived at the restaurant where Nick waited. He had been twenty minutes late and spotted Nick at one of the tables next to the window. The view of the fountain in DuPont Circle was just outside and Nick watched as a couple embraced for a kiss while the girl was trying to take a selfie. Nick turned away, vexed by the act. Maybe it was because he was on the downhill side of forty and just didn’t get it, but it seemed people were living their lives through a lens. He doubted that if people knew what he faced almost daily they’d be so casual about life and making sure they looked good on Facebook.
“Agent Scarborough.” Lasseter pulled out the chair opposite Nick’s. “How are you? You’re looking well rested.”
Hungover might have been a better word for it, but Nick didn’t correct his boss. “All things considered, I guess I’m doing all right.”
“Of course. I understand.” He raised a finger to get the waitress’ attention. “Have you ordered yet?”
Nick just shook his head.
“What can I get for you two gentlemen today?” The woman was older than one might expect for holding a job such as this, at least around here. This was Washington, a place where people were either on the rise—aspiring politicians, lawyers, federal agents—or people who were already at the top. Middle class didn’t seem to exist in D.C. proper. Not to mention that it was far too expensive a place to live on a server’s salary.
“I’ll take the club and an iced tea,” Lasseter replied.
Nick thought a great big juicy burger would help the hangover, but in the presence of the man who could make or break his career, he opted to be a sheep. “I’ll take the same, thank you.”
“Right away.” The woman smiled.
Nick could see her genuine and warm nature in that smile and suddenly felt guilty for passing some sort of socioeconomic judgment against her. What the hell did he know about her life? “So, you wanted to meet outside the office. Should I take that as a bad sign?”
Lasseter folded his hands on top of the small table covered in white linen. “Nick, I’m here because the Incident Review Group finished evaluating the narrative.”
Nick’s heart pumped a little faster as he waited for the results. After more than ten years as a federal agent, he feared his time was up.
“They’re recommending a letter of censure be added to your file.”
While Lasseter appeared grave in his delivery of this news, Nick felt a wave of relief. A letter of censure was scarcely more than a written reprimand. Okay, so it would be a part of his record, but it was the least severe punishment he could have hoped for. Well, that wasn’t entirely true; they could’ve dismissed it altogether, but this was his second-best scenario.
“That means you’ll be able to come back to work, Nick.”
“Thank you. You know, I still don’t believe I was in the wrong, sir.”
“I know. Your exemplary record over these last several years carried a lot of weight. However, the group simply could not discount Agent Hughes’ testimony. I realize he was only witness to a portion of what happened that night, but frankly, it was enough to raise eyebrows.”
“He was going to take me down, sir.” Nick was still pleading his innocence.
“They’ve already written their recommendations, Nick. It’s over. I understand this is a black mark for you, but know that we are all very well aware of your dedication and high ethical standards. It might mean a slight delay in your rise in the ranks, but it is not the end of your career. I hope you understand that.”
“I do. Thank you, sir.” He paused for a moment. “Can I ask why you wanted to meet me here and not give me the news at WFO?”
“Because I was hungry.” Lasseter chuckled and sipped on his water.
Somehow, Nick didn’t think that was the reason and suspected it had something to do with ASAC Campbell. Maybe he’d wanted to make himself look good in the process of trying to make Nick look bad. He knew the man was gunning for Executive Assistant Director and a show of disciplinary action might make him appear more as a leader. Nick also believed it had something to do with the fact that he’d gone around the ASAC to get Kate assigned to the WFO. In fact, Nick had gone straight to the Academy’s Assistant Director himself to make that happen.
» » »
The new home improvement store in Fayetteville was where Arlen Tucker worked as an associate in the lumber department. Hired on about six months ago when it opened, Arlen had been the poster-child for attendance and customer service. They loved him over there. He knew how to run the saws, knew his wood-varieties like the back of his hand, and his long and lean physique paired with his country-boy face scored well with the ladies looking to put up fences around their gardens. Arlen never had much trouble in that department. The girls always liked to look at him. He liked looking back too, but for very different reas
ons.
Arlen knew how to fly under the radar too. He’d gotten himself a new identity after getting out of the System a few years ago. New name—he’d always liked the name Arlen—new social security number, and even his place of residence was a P.O. Box. But what he liked best about it here was how easily he could pick them off. Of course, he’d had time to master his technique since his first few projects. The hard part came when he had to follow them. Sometimes, it would only take a day or two before he figured out the best place to take them. Sometimes, it would take a week. It all depended on how predictable their schedules were. His only requirements were that they had to have the look—one that bore a resemblance to her.
Arlen pulled the goggles over his face as he flipped the switch to turn on the saw. Five pieces of six-foot-long cypress. Apparently, the customer was building some sort of a deck, which made sense. Cypress didn’t rot when exposed to extremely wet conditions. Perfect for this part of the country.
He placed the two by fours on a flatbed cart and wheeled it out to the waiting customer. Next to the would-be buyer was a young woman. Arlen figured eighteen and probably living at home because the man appeared to be her father. He glanced at the girl, noticing her cut-off shorts with the white fabric pockets hanging out the bottom. Normally, that would be mid-summer attire, but it was October, although it seemed Mother Nature hadn’t realized that yet.
“Here you go, sir,” Arlen said. “You putting together a deck?”
“Trying to, I guess. Was hoping to have it done before the weather turned cold, but at this rate, I’m not sure winter’s ever going to come.” The older man chuckled.
Arlen cast another brief glance to the pretty young girl before turning his gaze down at his feet. “All right, then. Well, you two have a good day and good luck.” His face upturned and a wink of his eye was directed at her.