Denton got him settled in and returned to Nick and Duncan. “You two want to stay down here and wait or you want to head back up? This will take at least an hour. We can grab lunch if you’re hungry.”
“I can wait,” Nick began. “I want to make sure he doesn’t renege on the deal.”
“Suit yourself.” Denton sat down at another desk and waited.
Ramirez took a seat while eyeing the BAU agents. He’d leveraged himself and appeared to understand that if he didn’t come up with something good, the deal would be taken off the table.
“Okay, Mr. Ramirez, I’d like for you to tell me about the man you witnessed,” the artist began. “We’ll start off with the shape of his face. Was it round?”
“No, it was more pointy. He had small, squinty-eyes, too.” Ramirez gestured using his face as an example. “Black hair.”
“Okay. Good.” The artist began to draft the sketch.
Nick leaned closer to Duncan. “Do we know where Ramirez was when he spotted who we think was Bishop?”
“According to Denton, he said Ramirez was serving food to the rescue workers when he noticed several people being brought to a nearby triage tent for burns and smoke inhalation. He swears he remembers the victim and the man who brought him in.”
Nick grunted. “I guess we’ll see soon enough.”
Agent Denton walked toward Ramirez and the sketch artist and peered at the computer before looking at Nick. “Where’s your photo of the man in question? The guy you think is the same one who volunteered?”
“I emailed it to you before we flew out,” Duncan replied.
“That’s right.” Denton pulled out his phone and scrolled through his emails. “Here it is.” He opened the image and held it next to the monitor. “It’s a little too early to tell, but I am seeing some similarities.”
“We’re a long way from finalizing this,” the artist began. “I’m going to need you to step back a minute and let me do my job.”
Denton raised his hands. “Sorry, man. Do your thing.”
Agent Mitch Palmero walked into the lobby to meet his witness. “Dr. Valente, thanks for coming down. Please, follow me.” He started back to his office. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your cooperation on this.”
“You believe someone was impersonating a doctor during the hurricane rescue efforts?” Valente asked.
“Something along those lines, which is why we need your help.” He held open his office door. “Right through here. Please take a seat.” Palmero followed him inside and sat at his desk. He straightened his bolo tie and smoothed back his short dark hair. “What can you tell me about the man you spotted wheeling in the elderly gentleman who had passed?”
Valente crossed his stumpy legs and folded his arms in his lap. “Well, I can tell you that he seemed perfectly normal. Legitimate. Not like he was there for any other purpose than to help.”
“What made you believe otherwise?” Palmero asked.
“It wasn’t until I received a call from the Oakview Police Detective. He asked if I recalled seeing this man and I said I had. The wife had been rescued, as had her granddaughter. But what struck me was the look on his face. I can’t put words to it exactly.” Valente turned away to gather his thoughts. “We were all very solemn. Many people had died, and our hopes had dwindled that we would find anyone else alive. When the woman was brought in, the rest of us, myself included, were filled with hope. But what I saw on that man’s face was, well, sinister.”
“Sinister?” Palmero asked. “In what way?”
“Like he was happy the man was dead. Triumphant, I would dare to say.”
The agent nodded. “And you recall his face?”
“Oh yes. I do indeed.”
It was easy to lead a witness one way or another and Palmero had to be very careful he didn’t mention Bishop by name or show him the picture Walsh had gotten from Bishop’s former employer. He needed Valente to recall his version of this man all on his own. It was the only way to be sure. “Then we should get started,” Palmero replied.
13
The reluctance of some of Bishop’s previous employers to disclose his history was a red flag for Agent Levi Walsh. While this task was outside his wheelhouse, as he generally coordinated with local authorities on crisis protocols, the team was stretched thin and his experience prior to joining the BAU lent to his credibility.
Walsh served as an Army Intelligence Officer in the mid-1990s before joining the Bureau in 2003. After 9/11, everything in the intelligence arena had changed and Walsh’s tradecraft had been honed to the point that he had been courted by the CIA. But protecting his homeland was critical to Walsh, so he opted to pursue a career at the Bureau.
Knowing when someone was evading and deflecting came with his background. That was exactly what at least two of Bishop’s previous employers had done. The Baltimore EMS station and the EMT contracting service Bishop had signed onto about a year prior. Before that, he’d been a medical resident at Our Lady of Mercy Hospital in Providence. Walsh got nowhere with them due to privacy laws. This was where he hoped Kate had made progress.
He stood outside her office and looked in on her. Kate hadn’t noticed him as her eyes appeared glued to her computer screen. “Hey.”
She glanced at him. “Levi, you startled me. Come in.”
He walked inside. “You looked pretty intense. I obviously interrupted something.”
“I was just reading an email.” Kate waited until he sat down. “How’s it going? Are you making progress?”
“As a matter of fact, things are moving along at a decent clip. I thought we should compare notes and see what we need to do to keep our momentum.” He set down a file on her
