the pen, she blew gently on the wet ink for a few seconds until she was certain it was dry. Returning the volume to its slipcover, she handed it to Alexa and smiled uncertainly. “This is for you.”
“I can’t accept it,” Alexa protested, honestly. Taking a gift from a subject in these circumstances-which might have been misinterpreted as an agent taking a gratuity from a vulnerable woman-could easily come back to haunt her. And a one-thousand-dollar gift at that.
“It’s just a book,” Casey insisted. “Are you resisting because you’re an FBI agent? Is it against some federal law?”
“That’s not it. I just know how dear this book is-how few copies you have,” Alexa said. Of course she wanted the book. Who wouldn’t?
“Well, I’ve already inscribed it, so unless someone named Alexa Keen comes along, it won’t be of any use to anybody else. I do hope you’ll enjoy it.”
Grace stood near the couch, looking as though someone had just told her they’d run over her kitten.
Alexa said, “It’s far too generous.”
“So you will accept it?”
“I guess you’ve left me no choice. Thank you. Thank you very much.”
Deana was trying to climb onto the couch. With her eyes on the book in Alexa’s lap, Casey pulled Deana onto her lap. The child started pulling at the gold chain her mother was wearing. Casey allowed her to tug to her little heart’s content.
“Casey, Director Bender asked me to assist the police. I thought your uncle was responsible for talking to him, but I’m not sure he was.”
Grace looked away, her body language a blast of super-chilled air.
“Alexa, your director’s daughter, Alicia Bender, went to school with me. A portrait I did of her was in my first book. I don’t accept commercial assignments because what I do, I do because something I can’t explain about a subject attracts me. When people ask me to do their portraits, the pictures rarely ever work nearly as well, so usually they’re just technically pleasant likenesses. Alicia’s mother wants me to do her husband’s official FBI portrait. I’ve avoided doing it, and somehow I doubt he’d open himself up. I called Alicia early this morning, and I mentioned our desire that your expertise and assistance be made available to us, and I think I told her how much it would mean to me personally. She called her mother in Aspen.”
“I’m amazed,” Alexa said. She tried to imagine how the director’s wife felt about being called hours before the sun came up.
Casey seemed to read her thoughts.
“I didn’t wake Felicity. I awoke Alicia, who assured me her mother was wide-awake in Aspen. Perhaps after this is over,” Casey said, “you’ll allow me to photograph you.”
“Why me?”
“You have a remarkable presence and you are beautiful, have amazing eyes, exotic features, remarkable hands. Strength and depth.”
Alexa was embarrassed, not merely because she chewed her fingernails and was ashamed of that compulsive habit, but because she had never felt comfortable receiving praise unassociated with her job. She felt herself blushing and was powerless to stop it.
“I’m embarrassing you.” Casey smiled at Alexa and patted her hand. “We’ll talk about it later.”
“I came because I have some news,” Alexa said.
“My uncle told me you found my Volvo. What did you learn from it?”
“Your Volvo?” Alexa asked.
“The Volvo is technically my car. Gary took it yesterday because Deana’s car seat was in his Pontiac, since he brought her to the lake. It was easier than changing it out. I went there from the studio to meet them. We have one baby seat for each car, but I’d taken mine out the day before to make room for some framed prints Grace had to ship out.”
“What kind of Pontiac does he drive?” Alexa asked.
“A white 1965 GTO convertible with a red top that I bought for him as an anniversary present a few years ago. That’s what he was driving yesterday. He also has a Rover, which he sometimes drives to spare wear and tear on the GTO.”
“The GTO is his only toy,” Grace added.
“Gary always wanted one because it was something his father had when Gary was a child.”
“And you didn’t see the Volvo after you left the restaurant?”
“No.”
“I guess you didn’t head in the same direction,” Alexa said.
Casey shook her head slowly and wiped away a tear. “I wish we’d left together. I assumed he was long gone, so I didn’t even look for him.”
“We don’t have the results from the crime-scene technicians yet. Detective Manseur is handling that as we speak.”
“Shouldn’t your people be doing that?”
“The local crime techs are fine for the prelims. All we know so far, or what we think happened based on what we saw, is that it appears that an unsub ran into the Volvo, approached Gary’s door, opened it-or maybe Gary did- and the unsub-”
“Unsub?” Casey asked.
“It’s FBI jargon for unknown subject,” Grace chirped in.
“He struck Gary while he was still inside the Volvo.”
“A violent attack?” Grace asked.
“Yes, it was.”
“Could it have been fatal?” Grace asked.
Casey’s eyes widened. She clenched her daughter tightly to her chest.
“No, I don’t think so,” Alexa said.
“What did he use?”
“The object used was probably some short, cylindrical club.”
“A golf club?” Grace asked.
“We don’t know exactly what it was. May have been a weapon of convenience-something the unsub picked up at the scene. Or perhaps he had the weapon with him already.”
“Weren’t there any witnesses?” Grace asked.
“Not that we’ve located,” Alexa said.
“Then how do you know he was attacked?” Grace asked. “What evidence is there?”
“I’d rather not go into that.” Alexa had already told them much more than she normally would have, and she didn’t want to upset Casey any more than she had already.
“Please, Alexa,” Casey said. “I need to know.”
“Okay. There was low-velocity blood spatter inside the Volvo and a mark on the door that seems to have been made during the course of the event.”
“How do you know it was his blood in the car?” Grace asked.
“The blood was human and O negative, which is the same as Gary’s. He was driving the vehicle, so I think we can assume it’s his.”
“How did you know his blood type?” Casey asked. “I didn’t tell anybody that.”
“The identification card in his wallet listed his blood type,” Alexa told her.
“You found his wallet in the Volvo?” Casey asked.
Alexa nodded. “He was most likely struck while getting his license out because he’d been rear-ended and was expecting to exchange information. The wallet, containing cash and credit cards, was on the console, so I figure it was already in his hand when the event occurred.”
“Event?” Tears ran down Casey’s cheeks. Grace fetched her a tissue. Deana looked at her mother curiously and reached up to touch the tears.
Alexa felt a catch in her throat and fought the urge to show any emotion. FBI agents did not let anyone see their softer side. They were not supposed to become emotionally invested with victims, because emotion clouded objectivity.
