Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [362]
“It’s okay.” Racine finally appeared to rescue him. The knees of her carefully pressed trousers had leaves sticking to them and her short blond hair had been tangled by the wind. “I know the guy. He used to shoot crime scenes for us before he became a big-shot freelancer. Steinberg isn’t here yet. He’s across town at another scene. We’ve gotta get some shots before the rain starts. Hell, we lucked out. Garrison just happened to be in the neighborhood.”
The officers let go of Ben’s arms, giving him a shove just as a reminder that they could. He checked his camera settings to make sure they didn’t get all fucked up. Assholes. He was doing them a goddamn favor, and they still treated him like shit.
“Come on, boys. Show’s over,” Racine told the mobile-crime-lab guys who had stopped crawling around in the grass to watch the commotion. “We’ve got to hurry up before our evidence gets washed away. That goes for you, too, Garrison.”
He nodded but wasn’t paying much attention. He had only now noticed that no matter where he stood, the dead woman’s eyes seemed to follow him. It had to be one of those strange illusion things, right? Or was he getting paranoid?
“Hey, camera guy,” the FBI agent called to him. “Get a shot of this.”
The guy stood behind Ben, pointing to a spot on the ground about five feet away from the body.
“The name’s Garrison,” Ben said, waiting for the guy to meet his eyes, and when he did, Ben made it clear that he wouldn’t proceed until the guy acknowledged him with a little respect.
He tipped back his baseball cap and smiled. “And you just happened to be in the neighborhood, is that what Detective Racine said?”
“Yeah. What about it? I was getting some fucking stock shots of the monuments.”
“On a Sunday morning?”
“Best time to do it. No oddballs monkeying around, thinking it’s funny to screw up my shots. Hey, I’m helping you guys out here. Maybe you could quit busting my balls.” Ben kept his tone calm, confining the anger, when he really wanted to tell this guy to go fuck himself.
“Okay, Mr. Garrison, could you please take a shot of these indentations in the dirt?” He pointed to the ground again. He was tall, over six feet, and lanky but athletic-looking. The sarcasm and his eyes told Ben he’d better not push it. Fucking feebie. Ben glanced at the guy’s windbreaker and wondered where his gun was hidden. He bet the asshole wouldn’t be such a macho prick without his government-issued Glock.
“No problem,” Ben finally said. He checked out the area where the agent pointed. Immediately he saw two, maybe three small circular indentations in the ground. They were about five to six inches apart.
“What is it?” Racine joined them, looking over Ben’s shoulder just as he felt the first raindrops on the back of his neck.
“Not sure,” the agent told her. “Something was set down here. Or maybe it’s some sort of signature.”
“Jesus, Tully, you’re always thinking serial killers, aren’t you? Maybe the killer set down a suitcase or something.”
“With little circular feet?” Ben laughed and snapped a couple of more shots.
“Everyone’s a goddamn expert.” Racine was getting pissed.
Ben smiled, his bent back to her and his face to the ground. He liked when Racine got pissed, and he imagined her mouth making that sexy little pout.
“That should be enough photos, Garrison. Now, play nice and hand over the film.”
When he glanced up at her, she was holding out her hand.
“I didn’t get very many angles of the body,” he protested. “And I have a few more exposures left.”
“I’m sure we have enough. Besides, the medical examiner’s here.” She waved to the small, pudgy man in the houndstooth jacket and wool cap making his way up the overgrown incline. The guy took small, careful steps, watching his feet the entire time. He reminded Ben of some cartoon character with a little black bag.
“Come on, Garrison.” Her hands had moved to her hips while she waited. Maybe she thought it made her look authoritive. Racine had boyish, straight hips, probably even wore men’s trousers with those long legs. What