• • •
Much to Carly’s surprise, Vivi stood waiting for her in the lobby of the lab when she arrived for their morning briefing—a briefing she hoped would be short given the plan she and Marcus had implemented.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Vivi said, rushing over to her as soon as she’d passed through security.
“Everything okay, Vivi? You look a bit harried.” Vivi didn’t get ruffled very often. Sure, Carly had been feeling unsettled since finding Marguerite, but she could see no reason why this case would affect Vivi any more than any of her other cases.
Her friend gave her a lopsided smile. “I’m fine. I just got off the phone with my cousin Naomi, and the family wants to throw Jeffery another birthday party. Apparently the small one with twenty guests wasn’t big enough for his first birthday.”
“Jeffery’s birthday was three weeks ago,” she said, speaking of Vivi and Ian’s son.
“My family would celebrate it all year if they could,” Vivi countered, speaking the truth. And though it seemed like overkill, Carly knew why. After having lost both her parents and her only brother on the same day over three years before, Vivi’s huge extended family took extra care of their orphaned girl. Her wedding to Ian had been tasteful but lavish, the baby showers had seemed never-ending, and Jeffery’s christening? Well, Carly’d had to bring on two part-timers to handle traffic control.
“So what’s the problem?” Carly asked as they stepped into the elevator to the fourth floor briefing room.
“He already has enough toys. I don’t mind the party so much, but the toys are going to be out of control.”
“Have your family donate to a charity instead.”
“I love that idea. And my family would too. But then they’d bring gifts anyway.”
Carly let out a small laugh. She could imagine that happening. “Why don’t you tell them you’ll accept toys but you’ll be donating them in both the Jefferys’ names to Toys for Tots in December?” Vivi and Ian’s little boy had been named after Vivi’s brother, a Special Forces soldier who’d been killed while on duty in Afghanistan.
Vivi paused then smiled. “You know,” she said as the elevator doors opened and they stepped out, “that might work. I think I’ll run it by Naomi. It’s a great idea, but Jeffery’s birthday isn’t actually why I came downstairs to meet you,” Vivi said, turning toward her and putting a hand on her arm to stop her. They stood in the hallway around the corner from the briefing room.
Carly looked questioningly at her friend.
“I’ve brought someone else into the investigation. An expert of sorts,” Vivi said.
She frowned. “That’s your call, Vivi.”
Vivi cleared her throat and her eyes darted away.
“Was it not your call?”
“No,” Vivi answered, drawing the word out. “It was. But I’m not sure you’re going to like it, so I wanted to give you a heads-up before we walk into the briefing room.”
Carly couldn’t see why she would care, but Vivi’s behavior had her curious. “Why wouldn’t I like it?”
Vivi took a deep breath and answered quickly, “Because it’s Drew Carmichael.”
Carly blinked, unable to process what Vivi had said. Then she reared back. “What!”
“He came to see me this morning and, believe it or not, he’s law enforcement,” Vivi said in a rush. “Well, of sorts,” she added with a small frown.
“No, he’s not. He’s a businessman from New York City. His family owns some ridiculous number of companies.”
She expected Vivi to argue with her, or support her, or say something. But silence answered her comment. Rather than tell her she was wrong, or tell her it was a joke, Vivi just stood there and held her gaze. Carly’s stomach sank.
“I, I have a hard . . . I don’t know what to say,” she managed. “What agency or department . . . or . . .” Her voice trailed off; she still didn’t quite believe it.
“I think he should tell you,” Vivi answered, her voice soft with concern.
Concern? Vivi shouldn’t be feeling concern for her. It shouldn’t matter to Carly whether or not he was in law enforcement. Well, other than the fact that he hadn’t said a word about it. And that he’d likely been critiquing her leadership skills the morning before—he had a few years on her, after all. Thinking about it, she realized that if he had been in law enforcement his entire career, he probably had more experience than any of the officers at that crime scene the day before—except for maybe Vivi, who had started at such a young age. In any event, he was certainly more experienced than she was.
The deeper the truth sank into her brain, the more she realized that perhaps Vivi did have cause to be concerned. “What agency?” she asked again.
Vivi’s eyes darted around the hallway. They were still alone, but probably wouldn’t be for long; Dr. Buckley would be arriving soon. Vivi’s eyes met hers.
“He’s with the CIA,” Vivi said.
The small statement hit Carly so hard that she took a step back. “No,” she said automatically.
Again, Vivi said nothing. And just like that, small memories came sifting through her mind. How it had seemed odd to her how comfortable Drew had been inserting himself into the investigation of Kit’s attack, and how he’d been completely unruffled by the sight of the body on the trail. Grudgingly, she had to admit that she should have seen it earlier. She might not have guessed the CIA, but she should have figured out that he had some law enforcement knowledge or experience.
She sighed. None of this should matter to her. If he didn’t matter, then where he worked or whom he worked for shouldn’t matter either. But there was no doubt that the news of his profession had raised a strong emotion in her—an irrationally strong emotion if he truly meant nothing to her. And this revelation, more than the fact that he was CIA, sat uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach. She also didn’t like that Vivi had seen her discomfort.
“Thank you for telling me, Vivi. I appreciate it,” she said. And she did. She wished she’d had a better hold on her reaction to the news, but if she couldn’t prevent wearing her emotions on her sleeve, she preferred that it had happened in the hallway with only Vivi there to witness it, rather than in the briefing room with Drew.
Vivi still studied her, the concern now showing in her eyes. “Really, Vivi,” Carly said. “It was unexpected and,” she paused, looking for the right word but unable to find it. “It was just unexpected,” she repeated. “I’m glad you told me out here rather than letting me find out in there.”
Vivi’s expression changed to one of understanding, but she said nothing more about it. “Shall we then?” she asked with a gesture of her head in the general direction of the briefing room.
She nodded in reply and the two started down the hall.
“Hey,” came Dr. Sameer Buckley’s voice from behind them just as they reached the door to the briefing room. Carly turned to see Sam walking quickly in their direction. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I got caught up looking at budgets and all, are we ready?” he asked, not bothering to wait for a reply.
Sam had been one of Vivi’s first students, when she had been a PhD student herself. A bit of a savant like Vivi, he had started working with her on his own PhD three years before she finished the residency requirements of her joint PhD MD. When they’d finished in the same year, Vivi had been twenty-eight and Sameer twenty-three. They were two peas in the same brain-pod. Now, a little over seven years later, he officially held the title of the youngest director ever of the state lab of New York.
“Ready,” Vivi said, following him into the room. She cast a smile in Carly’s direction. Sam rarely, if ever, stopped moving.
When Carly stepped in herself, her gaze immediately landed on Drew. His eyes met hers, as they often did, and held. She thought she saw a flash of regret, or at least some emotion, on his face, but before she had a chance to recognize it, it disappeared. Of course it did. He’d be good at hiding things.
&nb
sp; She looked away, then smiled when she saw Daniel seated at the table, already ensconced in a report. He had been another one of Vivi’s students—smart enough to get into the program, but not in the same savant category as Vivi and Sameer. Still, the brilliant young man more than made up for that by being more committed to his profession than any young person ought to be. She almost laughed at that thought. Daniel wasn’t much younger than she, maybe only two years behind her in age, but he seemed a lot younger—not because of the quality of his work, but because of the eager, almost fanatical way he approached it.
But because Carly knew the reason behind his attitude, she had nothing but respect for him. He’d lost his twin sister when they’d both been quite young. She had been kidnapped, and search after search had turned up nothing. Years later, when he was a teenager, Daniel had come across an article on Vivi and her work. He’d reached out to her to see if she could help find his lost twin.
Vivi had found his sister, who had been killed not long after she’d been kidnapped. The story had been awful and tragic, but finding her had, at the very least, given Daniel and his parents answers. From that day, Daniel had dedicated his life to forensic science and planned to someday focus solely on cold cases like his sister’s.
But in order to do that, he needed as much experience as possible. After having worked with Sam during the serial killer case involving Vivi, the two men had become friends. When Daniel graduated the previous spring, Sam had offered him a job. So here he sat.
“You must be Drew,” Carly heard Sam say. Not one to wait for introductions, Sam had kicked off the meeting. She watched as the two men shook hands. Drew’s eyes met the director’s but then flicked back to her.
“Vivi told me you’d be joining. A bit unusual, I think, but,” Sam ended his statement with a shrug. “So what do you have, Daniel?” he asked, turning to the young man.
Daniel held up a paper from the file he’d been looking at. “She was likely killed in an industrial space. Her clothes had traces of machine grease and several different kinds of cotton fibers and the soles of her feet also had bits of glass, concrete, and some kind of chemical we are still running a trace on,” he answered.
“Any indication of what kind of industrial space?” Vivi asked.
Carly had given Drew a curt nod of acknowledgment and then taken a seat beside him. She knew she wouldn’t be able to completely suppress her reactions, she just wasn’t that good at that sort of thing, so she figured it was the safest place to sit. If she’d sat across from him, he would have been able to read every expression that crossed her face. Now, listening to Daniel, she didn’t doubt that she’d done the right thing. The imagery his words conjured made her heart crawl into her throat. Imagery that would not be easily forgotten.
“Nothing conclusive. If I had to guess, I would say maybe an abandoned fabric or clothing mill, but we’ll know more once the next set of tests come back,” Daniel said, answering Vivi’s question.
“And location?” Drew asked.
Daniel shook his head. “No. There were some spores on the soles of her feet and on her hands, but we haven’t identified them yet. When we do, which should be later today, it might help us narrow it down.”
“Any more insight in to the pattern of the cuts?” Sam asked. “I know you were going to look into it yesterday, Vivi.”
Vivi cast a quick look at Carly before replying. “Yes, I’ve traced the pattern and Agent Carmichael is here to tell us more about what they mean. But I’d also like his opinion on the other injuries we found on her body, as they seem incongruent with the detailed cuts.”
“Do you have photos of the body?” Drew asked, sitting forward. Like Vivi, he too glanced at Carly as the photos made their way from Daniel’s hands to his.
She looked down at the table as he started going through the images. Thankfully, as he finished, he slid them to his right, away from her line of sight.
“The pattern is the calling card of the Pen Royal Group,” he said. “They formed in the late eighties from five different organized crime factions. Each on their own was a fairly sizable operation, but they created this co-op, for lack of a better word, because each faction had started warring with the others. That’s not uncommon, of course, but they had the foresight to realize the more they fought with each other, the more they opened the market to other groups.”
“So they banded together?” Daniel asked.
“They did. They operated out of DC for a long while but recently moved to Texas. Each cut,” Drew said, singling out a picture, “represents one of the groups.”
Carly forced herself to look at the image. It had been taken with a strong zoom lens, or perhaps just magnified, and showed nothing other than a skin-toned background with five cuts on it. If she tried hard she could pretend it wasn’t a body she was looking at, let alone that of Marguerite.
“The center stab, and it’s always a stab, is for the Botham family. Their specialty is bribery and corruption of public officials. They’re kind of the administration of the PRG. One cut stands for the Rioto family and their specialty is drugs, another is for the Al Almidean family, their specialty is trafficking in anything that isn’t drugs. The third cut is for the Mettinger family—they do financial crimes, cyberterrorism that sort of thing.” Drew paused and pulled out another picture. He studied it, but didn’t hold it up for the others to see.
“And the last cut?” Carly brought herself to ask.
He looked up at her. “That’s for the Smith family,” he said. “Believe it or not, that’s their real name. They’re the enforcers.”
“Enforcers?” Vivi asked.
Looking away from Carly and letting his gaze land again on the image in his hand, Drew answered. “Yes, the enforcers. Anytime anyone in the group needs help making a point, the Smiths are the family to see.”
Sam let out an annoyed sigh. “Interesting,” he said. “But it doesn’t help us identify her, does it? Perhaps she was involved in the PRG, but if she was, that will make it all that much harder to identify her.”
Carly opened her mouth to protest any PRG involvement; thankfully, Drew responded first, cutting her off and preventing her from giving away the secret she held.
“But I don’t think she was involved with them,” he said. “And honestly, I don’t think they had anything to do with it.”
Carly snapped her mouth shut.
“Can I see the report of her injuries?” Drew asked.
Daniel handed him a file and he sat for a moment, quietly flipping through the information. Carly watched his efficient review of the details and wondered just what he was seeing, what he was thinking. He had a wealth of experience she knew nothing about. Had he seen a killing like this before? Assuming he had some ties to DC, had he known any of Marguerite’s colleagues? As the questions flooded her mind, his lie of omission grew heavier, and more sour, in her stomach.
She looked away, hoping to also turn away from a truth she’d just acknowledged: Drew Carmichael affected her in ways she couldn’t control. The attraction was there, and the curiosity, to be sure. But there was something deeper she couldn’t escape from. Staring down at the fabricated grains of the laminated tabletop, she reminded herself that when the plan she and Marcus and Lorraine had put into place started to unfold, Marguerite would be identified, the investigation would be taken over by another agency, and Sam, Vivi, and Daniel would move on to their next case. Then she and Marcus would be left alone to figure out what the hell they were going to do, and Drew would no longer need to stay. He’d leave Windsor and go back to New York, or DC, or wherever he lived.
Drew cleared his throat, which brought Carly’s eyes back to him. “I think whoever did this,” he said, pointing to the picture of the five cuts, “was copying the PRG. And the reason I say that is because this looks to be a case of straight, old fashion torture. They tried one thing, and when that didn’t work, they tried another, and then another. It looks like there were at least four distinct types of tor
ture methods employed here. That’s not something the PRG does. It would undermine their impact if it appeared, in any way, that they weren’t able to get what they wanted from whomever they were torturing on the first try.”
“One and done kind of scenario?” Vivi asked.
“Exactly,” he responded. “If whomever the PRG is questioning doesn’t give them what they want with their one method of extracting information, they are simply killed.”
“They might miss the opportunity to get information from people who are able to hold out longer,” Sam said.
“But if word on the street is that the PRG only asks once, that alone is a pretty effective form of coercion,” Daniel countered.
“So, if not the PRG, then who?” Vivi asked as her phone vibrated on the table. Picking it up, she looked at the number. “Just a second, guys,” she said before answering the call.
Carly watched as Vivi spoke to the person at the other end of the line in short, single-word answers. Beside her, she felt, more than saw, Drew’s desire to pull her aside and say something to her. Stubbornly, she kept her eyes on Vivi.
When she finished the call, Vivi set her cell down and seemed to contemplate it.
“Vivi?” Sam asked. “Is everything okay?”
Vivi looked up and landed her gaze on Carly. “I don’t know, Sam. But we have visitors.”
• • •
US Supervisory Deputy Marshal Mikaela Marsh entered the briefing room trailed by two more deputy marshals. Deputy Marsh reminded Carly a bit of Alfre Woodard, only about three inches shorter and seemingly nowhere near as nice. Pausing at the head of the table, she scanned the room. Her eyes lingered on Carly, then returned to Sam and stayed there.
“Dr. Buckley?”
“Yes?” Sam said but made no move from where he stood, unusually still, at the other end of the table.
“I believe you have one of my deputies in your morgue,” she announced.
Vivi shot Carly a questioning look, then rose from her seat. “I’m Dr. Vivienne DeMarco. If you’re referring to the woman who came in yesterday—late-forties, good physical shape, with long brown hair—then I’m the ME who performed the autopsy.”
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