Freezing

‘No. He just made a typical Gene statement, sounding supercilious and sure of his facts as he questioned the likelihood that the Agency could make a difference. He was basically saying that our efforts to link up mispers with unidentifieds was just a drop in the bucket.’

Steelie cut in, leaning towards her. ‘You never told me this.’

Jayne gave her a quelling look. ‘There was no point getting you riled up as well.’

Steelie’s protest was cut off by Scott’s follow-up question for Jayne. ‘Why did that bother you so much that you stopped walking?’

‘Because it’s the sort of armchair quarterback statement you might expect from a disinterested person, not a forensic scientist – or any kind of scientist.’

‘Right.’ Scott almost smiled again. ‘So you set him straight. How did he respond?’

‘He kind of backed off and we went into the restaurant.’

‘Which you don’t know the name of.’

‘Look, I can describe it.’

‘Later.’ Scott consulted his notes. ‘During dinner, did you learn anything about where he lived or his activities, if he had a rental car or some form of transportation?’

‘No. We were reminiscing.’

‘And how long did you stay there?’

‘About an hour and a half. Something like that.’

‘King paid for dinner?’

Jayne had a ray of hope that Scott could be jealous, wanting to know if this had actually been a date. ‘Yes, he paid.’ She tried to see his expression but his whole face was tilted down to his pad.

‘Credit card?’

She deflated. He was just trying to find out if there was a financial paper trail the FBI could follow to investigate Gene. ‘Cash.’

‘Then you went to your place?’

‘No, first we went to the Agency.’

Both Steelie and Scott’s heads snapped toward Jayne. Scott held up his hand to stop Steelie from interrupting again. ‘Was that his suggestion?’

Jayne nodded, beginning to see how strange it appeared. She wondered what Gene had actually been doing, if indeed he was the person responsible for the freeway body parts. She sat still and tried to think of anything he might have seen or could have discerned about the case while in her office.

‘Jayne?’ Scott sounded impatient.

‘Yes. Yes, OK? He asked to see it.’

‘And that seemed normal to you, at, what, eight at night?’

She couldn’t help but sound defensive. ‘We’d been talking about some similarities between our work in Rwanda and what the Agency does now. It was a relatively natural request in the context of the evening.’

‘Fine. You went to the Agency. What did you do there?’

Jayne rubbed her forehead. ‘I showed him around. We weren’t there very long.’

‘Did you show him anything in particular? Any case files, photographs, notes—’

She glared at him. ‘No. I think you know me better than that. And I didn’t say anything about consulting on an FBI case, if that’s what you’re thinking. I didn’t mention the freeway body parts and he sure as hell didn’t ask.’

‘Did he show an interest in anything in particular?’

She thought for a moment. ‘He seemed interested in the All Coroners Bulletin.’

Steelie’s sharp intake of breath was audible. ‘You turned on my computer in the lab?’

Jayne rolled her eyes. ‘Of course not.’ Then she took on an assertive tone, aiming to clarify these issues for the last time. ‘Look, I didn’t open anything, use any passwords in front of him, didn’t let him see the alarm keycode—’ She stopped abruptly. Oh, shit.

‘What?’ Scott leaned forward. ‘You’ve remembered something. The alarm system?’

She shook her head. ‘No, I just thought of something, a connection. I mean, Gene’s the one anomalous person who’s been at the Agency as well as my apartment.’ Her assertive tone had been replaced with something higher pitched.

‘So what?’

‘The bugging. The taps on the phones, dammit!’ Her voice was rising. ‘He said he was in ‘electronics’, maybe that’s what he meant. He’s been in both locations and I let him in myself! For Christ’s sake, I let him in.’

She tried to stand up but the legs of her chair tangled with the strap of her bag, pulling it upside down to the floor. She bent over to untangle the mess, gave up and stepped over it, only to be confronted by Gene’s face on the projection screen when she looked up. No! She made an about-face, directly into Scott, who’d come around the table.

He stopped her short by gripping her by the shoulders. She looked everywhere but into his eyes as she felt despair come over her. Gene had manipulated her with ease, she’d possibly compromised Scott’s case and maybe even Agency 32/1 itself. What have I done?

She was aware that Scott was telling Steelie to turn off the tape recorder. She watched Steelie follow the instructions. Oh, God, Steelie; I’m sorry.

Scott dipped and weaved, trying to get into her line of sight. ‘The wiretaps were outside both buildings, not inside. I don’t want you thinking about what could have happened or making connections right now. Just tell me what happened that night. We’ll deal with whatever comes up.’

Gradually, she realized that if she’d screwed anything for the Agency, then she was going to have to fix it for herself, for Steelie, for their clients.

TWENTY-FIVE

Eric and Angie waited in a small office that was clearly a later addition to the rambling two-story house used by the second battered women’s shelter on their list, Percy Gale. The first shelter, Horizons, hadn’t yielded results but they hadn’t crossed it off the list because the manager there had simply refused to discuss any of her clients. She had agreed to look at the photograph of Eleanor Patterson, at Eric’s insistence, but had said she didn’t recognize the woman. Eric hadn’t been convinced.

He liked Steelie’s theory that Patterson had come to Georgia to get away from her husband for good and it made sense that she would have started with a shelter. He wanted to follow every sniff of a lead and it was Angie who cut off the interview at Horizons by giving Eric a look he recognized from when they’d first worked together in Atlanta a year earlier: she was telling him to back off. He only complied because he knew she wasn’t going to let anything drop; that wasn’t Angie’s style.

On the drive to Percy Gale, she had suggested a new approach to the same theory: get the shelter to explain their methods so they’d get leads on how Patterson might have come into Georgia, even if they couldn’t find the shelter she used. They had agreed that Angie would lead the next interview, so when the Percy Gale site manager walked into her office, it was Angie who moved forward first.

The woman who introduced herself as ‘just Dora’ looked about 60. She wasn’t exactly overweight but looked as though she had been, then lost some and there was still enough skin to contain the old bulk. As she passed them to reach her desk, she left a fresh floral scent behind her.

She picked up a paper fan decorated with flowers and leaned back in the chair to cool herself with practiced flicks of the wrist. ‘Please sit down, both of you. It’s much too hot to stand.’

Angie began. ‘Dora, we’re looking for information on a woman who went missing while she may have been seeking assistance from a battered women’s shelter.’

‘Is there a missing person report out on her?’ Dora’s eyes were shrewd.

‘Yes.’

‘Put in by the woman’s husband?’

‘Yes.’