Crush - Alan Jacobson [54]
“They can get me up to speed.” Mann extended his right hand and Rooney took it. “I’ll keep you posted once you get back.”
Vail slipped the new FBI badge onto her belt, grabbed the envelope from the table and left the room with Rooney. As they cleared the front door to the building, Rooney reached into his inside suit coat pocket and handed her a new BlackBerry. “It’s activated and ready to go. Same number.”
She turned it on and waited as it booted up. “Thanks.”
“Watch that kid in there. Fuller,” Rooney said. “I’ve seen his type, knows it all, young buck who’s gotten where he’s at because of favors or nepotism or both. Book smart, street dumb.”
Vail marveled at Rooney’s ability to read people. She knew he was good, but that was impressive.
“He bugs me,” Rooney said. “Could be trouble.”
“Noted. What do you know about Austin Mann?”
“Hell of an agent. Loyal to the job like guys aren’t loyal anymore.” He nodded at the Bureau car down the street, headed toward them. His ride to SFO, Vail surmised.
Rooney said, “You noticed the prosthesis, I’m sure. Got it OTJ, defusing a bomb. Lucky that’s all he lost. I worked with him years ago in North Carolina. I was there when . . . when it happened. I hope you never have to see something like that. It was awful. A guy like that, tough as they come, squealing like a pig.” He shook his head. “Anyway, he took this assignment in Frisco and he’s been good. He’s been happy.”
The dark blue Crown Victoria pulled up to the curb.
“Is it a prosthetic hand, or his whole arm?”
“What?”
“Agent Mann’s prosthesis. How extensive is it?”
Rooney’s eyes narrowed. “Hand and forearm. Why?”
Vail stood there thinking a second too long.
“Karen, what is it?”
She laughed and waved a hand. “Nothing. Just tired.”
Rooney placed a hand on Vail’s arm and gave it a squeeze. “I want you to get back to Quantico in one piece, you hear? No more fires or other shit you seem to get yourself into.”
“Are you implying something, Art?”
“Implying? Hell, no. I think your record speaks for itself.” He stepped off the curb and opened the door. “See you back home soon.”
TWENTY-TWO
Vail watched the BuCar swing a wide arc in the street and head off down the road. She liked Rooney, and because she was about a dozen years younger than he, she sometimes thought of him like an older brother. She never felt that way about anyone in the unit—or anywhere else, for that matter.
But Austin Mann’s prosthesis began to bother her. When crushing a trachea, the “bar arm” move would be vastly more efficient if the offender had a hard prosthetic forearm. She would have to look into that. Carefully. One of her mentors had just vouched for the ATF agent. One thing she did not want to do was investigate a fellow LEO—a man with a distinguished service record—and have it get back to Rooney.
She turned to head back into the building, realized she was still holding the envelope Brix had given her, and turned it over. Agent Karen Vail was printed in black laser ink. She tore it open, and, while starting up the two flights of stairs, began to read:
Hey there, Agent Vail. You don’t know me, but I’m betting you wish you did. I know you’re a profiler who’s been brought in to catch the guy who killed that woman in the wine cave. And I know you’ve found the one in Vallejo and the one in that old Black Knoll Vineyards cave. That was a nice touch, actually, don’t you think? They’ve talked for years about getting at that vintage wine that was supposedly buried there, so I figured they’d eventually find my handiwork. It just happened sooner than I figured. I wanted it to be a total surprise, like, out of the blue, a holy shit moment, where everyone freaks out and says, “Oh, my god, another woman’s been killed by the same guy!” Ah, so the first question might be, am I a guy, or am I a woman? I’m not going to tell you. I’ll let you figure it out. I’m sure by now you’ve already got your theories. I’m sure you’re all thinking about me, talking about me. You, and Lieutenant Brix and Detective Fuller, Investigator Dixon, and Sergeant