but Jeffery’s excitement could be contagious and Nadira had it bad. Though you’d never be able to tell. The man looked perpetually bored. His mouth remained a thin line. His knobby shaved head stayed put while his half-lidded eyes darted along from one computer monitor to the next in line, three rows of them, five screens in each row.
In fact, neither man noticed her presence despite her pacing behind their captain chairs. Their attention was focused on the computer images.
“By the way,” Jeffery said without looking at her, “good job on keeping the film. Even I didn’t see that coming.”
“I learn from the best.” Actually her mother would say that the Diablo was rubbing his evil off on her. “Ever since Afghanistan I keep a spare.”
Two years ago, when Jeffery managed to get them embedded with some U.S. troops, Sam shot some amazing footage of a tribal court carrying out justice on two of the village’s women, a mother and daughter. Their Afghan sponsors were not pleased. A huge argument started, and in the middle of the drama Sam sensed what was coming. Without anyone noticing, she inconspicuously switched out the footage in her camera with film she already had in her pocket. When one of the Afghan soldiers demanded the film, Sam opened the camera and grudgingly handed it over. She watched as he destroyed it, smashing it to bits with his rifle butt, right in front of them.
That footage ended up winning a feature for her and Jeffery, sweeping award after award but also winning the assurance that they could never return to Afghanistan.
“So what footage did Dudley Do-Right end up with?” Jeffery asked.
“I had extras made of that zoo feature we did last year.”
He swiveled back to grin up at her. “Lions and tigers and bears? Oh my. And what will you tell him when he comes knocking?”
“It was an honest mistake.” She shrugged, palms out, mimicking a gesture Jeffery recognized as one of his, and he nodded with a bigger grin. “You’re always telling me it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission. I told you, I learn from the best.”
“Now you’re giving me a hard-on.” It was Jeffery’s highest compliment.
But he was already spinning back to the computer monitors.
“Why don’t you go on home for a few hours, Sam?”
“You sure?”
“Yes, you deserve it. You did good. We don’t have anything until the documentary interview later.”
When she still didn’t make a move he waved his hand over his shoulder. “Go. Get a shower. You don’t want to smell worse than the prison inmates. Take a nap for all I care.”
“Okay, I will.”
She could use the break. Jeffery had woken her shortly after midnight. She had gotten only an hour of sleep. She was starting to feel it, but Jeffery hadn’t gotten any more sleep than she had and the man looked energized.
Sam could see his latest obsession unfolding on the monitors. Like a dog with a bone, it was too late to tell him to let go of this one. But something told her
Sam started for the door before Jeffery could change his mind. She shook her head, glancing one last time as monitor after monitor began filling with different images of Agent Margaret O’Dell.
CHAPTER 19
“I’m fine,” Maggie told her boss, repeating the mantra as her breakfast did an unpleasant flip. “Just a few stitches.”
Tully caught her eyes and frowned. Racine stepped away. Okay, so she wasn’t that convincing.
“I heard you made a trip to the ER. Are you okay?”
But had he seen the news yet? He actually sounded concerned, so no, he probably hadn’t heard about the news clip.
“If this assignment is too …” He paused as if looking for the correct wording. “If it’s too difficult considering the circumstances—” And he let the rest hang.
This was not typical Kunze. For more than a year he had berated, dogged, and insulted her. Several times Maggie had considered transferring to the Department of Homeland Security at the suggestion of Deputy Director Charlie Wurth. He and Maggie had worked together on several cases. She liked Wurth, respected and trusted him, which were three things she could not say about Kunze.
But in many ways DHS would be starting over for her. She had worked long and hard, fought battles beyond those with killers, to get where she was. She had not run from anything or anyone in a very long time, and she had decided she wouldn’t start now. She wouldn’t let Kunze push her out.
Ever since the case last fall, the case in Nebraska, Kunze’s crash tactics appeared watered down. He pulled punches and held back his ordinary slew of criticism. If Maggie didn’t know better, she’d swear he’d gone a bit soft, even to the point of sounding conciliatory.
Now, as she let too much dead air float between them, her eyes met Tully’s. In his eyes she saw the same distrust, the suspicion. And she realized, of course, it couldn’t be that simple or easy with Kunze. Trust was something earned. Kunze hadn’t gotten close to being there. Immediately she felt her guard come back up into place, just as it had earlier with Racine.
“I’m fine with the case, Director Kunze.” She gave the lie her best shot but still couldn’t bring herself to call him “sir.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear that. Part of my job is to make sure you’re fine.”
Maggie winced and tightened her grip on the phone, preparing herself for the punch. He had spun it just the way she expected. Same ol’ Kunze.
“So, in order to make certain you are fine, I’ve made an appointment for you,” he said. “To start the psychological evaluation we talked about. Your first session is tomorrow afternoon at four o’clock. I’ll leave it to Dr. Kernan to decide how often and how long he thinks you’ll need.”
“Dr. Kernan? Dr. James Kernan?”
“That’s right. If you have any questions, call my office.”
More dead air. Only this time Kunze was gone.
He was good, Maggie had to admit. She didn’t see that coming. And James Kernan. Who knew the old geezer was still alive? This would be worse than she’d even imagined.
CHAPTER 20
She was back. He was surprised. Even more surprised by the flush of sexual excitement he felt. That hadn’t happened in a long time.
He had spent the morning watching the investigators parade in and out of the alley. A rare treat. Something he didn’t get to do very often. And the risk he’d taken to dump the body was reaping greater rewards than he’d expected.
He wished he could see what they were bringing out in the brown paper bags. How could there possibly be so much? But of course they would be collecting evidence for the fire. They were even checking the Dumpster, going through the garbage piece by piece. He wanted to venture closer. He wanted to see everything.
He had an insatiable curiosity. That was partly what had gotten him to start his little habit. More like a hobby, really. Though it wasn’t until recently that he’d begun keeping track of some details after discovering what a sense of accomplishment it gave him to go over the kills weeks later.
In his logbook, he tried to record as many interesting tidbits as he could. Changing things up was so much easier when you could look back on the details and think about them. Sometimes remembering was almost as exciting as doing.
Well, not really as satisfying. But it placated him during those days or weeks—sometimes months—when he
