Crush - Alan Jacobson [49]
Vail mused at the luck of their having taken the one solitary room, tucked away in its own building. If the aim of the arsonist had been to harm her, and she and Robby had been booked into the Cabernet Truffle Room, some of the other guests might not have survived.
Vail shook off the thought, then started coughing again. Too much residual smoke still riding on the air. She headed back to the Crown Vic, hacking away, with Dixon behind her.
They drove a mile down the road, before Dixon pulled over beside a large rolling vineyard. Vail got out and coughed long and hard, bent over at the waist and holding onto the wire fence that separated the vines from the roadway. A moment later, the spell subsided. She stood up, cautiously took a deep breath of the fresh air, then blew it through her lips.
She got back into the car, her forehead pimpled with perspiration. “Well. That was great fun.”
Dixon eyed her. “You okay?”
“Couldn’t be better.” Vail nodded at the road ahead. “Let’s go.”
THEY WALKED INTO the conference room and took their seats. Absent were their guests from yesterday, save for Timothy Nance. Sitting off to the side, his face was tight, etched with concern. His tie was pulled to the side, and he looked like he hadn’t slept much. Vail knew how he felt.
Brix walked in and strode to the front of the room, dropped his thickening binder on the desk and put his hands on his hips. He, too, looked frazzled. His hair was hastily combed, his uniform was not as crisp as it had been and he had dark, loose skin beneath his eyes.
He put his teeth together and whistled loudly. Everyone came to order. “Okay, I’m really pissed off at the night’s events. Someone’s targeted us, people, and I intend to find out who. It’s no secret I’ve had a problem with Special Agent Vail and her . . . attitude and methods . . . but she’s one of our team, and we don’t gotta like everyone, we just have to work effectively with them. If someone takes a swipe at her, they take a swipe at all of us. So I want to catch this fucker. And I want to catch this goddamn serial killer. And I want to do both sooner, rather than later. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”
He looked around, making eye contact with Lugo, Dixon, Fuller, Vail—holding her gaze a few seconds longer for acknowledgment—which she gave him with a slight smile—before coming to rest on Tim Nance.
Brix looked down at his hand, which held an envelope and a FedEx overnight pack. “Karen, these are for you. Front desk clerk gave them to me.” He passed them to Nance, who handed them off down the line toward Vail. “I’ve been in contact with Karen’s boss and we’ve got an Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms agent on his way to pay us a visit. Karen, you want to fill us in?”
Vail laid the envelope on the table in front of her and glanced at the airbill on the FedEx package. “The BAU has two ATF agents in an Arson and Bombing Investigative Services subunit that we started twenty years ago. They were trained as profilers and primarily work ATF cases but they consult on all serial murder cases because, well, because they’re really good profilers.” She grabbed the tab, ripped open the package, and slid out her new badge. “Special Agent Supervisor Art Rooney is the guy who’ll be here sometime today. His input will help us, I’m sure.”
“He’s actually here,” Brix said. “He and Detective Gordon are at the site right now, taking a quick look around.”
Brix lifted the wall phone and punched in an extension. “Yeah, it’s Brix. Send in Matt.” He replaced the handset, then said, “Before Gordon and Rooney arrive, I’ve got a few updates for you. First, we’ve got an ID on the body we excavated from the collapsed wine cave.”
The door opened and in walked a lanky, balding man in a lab coat. Matthew Aaron stepped in and Brix introduced him to the attendees.
“Well,” Aaron said, clapping his hands together. “This was a very challenging case because of the state of decomp of the body.