Good Morning, Killer - April Smith [35]
“We got lucky,” Jason, the voice of experience, replied.
I sat back on my haunches and rewrapped the scrunchie that held my ponytail, grimacing at the time. “Gotta go.”
“Where to?”
“Rick’s office,” scrambling up and wiping the fine cardboard dust off on my jeans.
“I’ll walk with you,” offered Kelsey.
I was aching to stop at Barbara Sullivan’s, my old pal from the bank robbery squad. They still had real offices on the south side of the floor and Barbara’s was still a sanctuary. I just needed to sit in there with the door closed for fifteen minutes, talking carpet installations and flu shots, easy muffin recipes and haircuts of the stars. But now I was late and saddled with Kelsey.
“What’s the meeting about?”
“A couple of distinctive things in the Santa Monica kidnapping match the cases that came up on VICAP.”
“Why didn’t they come up before?”
“Nobody put it together. Nobody alerted Quantico to go back to the local police in Austin, South Beach and DC with what we now know.”
“But you did. I can see why Rick has a lot of faith in you.”
Fawning makes my teeth ache. Too much sugar in the Christmas punch.
“SOP,” I said dismissively.
“So how was it for you?” she asked, not going away.
“How was what for me?”
“The investigation. To confront what you were most afraid of?”
“I was afraid she’d be dead.”
I turned into the office of the kidnap squad.
Kelsey followed.
“Rick inside?” I asked the duo of wavy-haired clerks in miniskirts and high heels.
I took a chocolate kiss from a plate on the counter and smiled vacantly at Kelsey, wondering if she were going to explain to me what I was really afraid of. Kelsey Owen never would have guessed it was she. Or, I should say, Special Agent in Charge Galloway’s keen interest in her. Why would he allow a rookie to tag along unless he wanted a report? Standing quietly with soft round hands crossed, holding a file, her patience seemed feigned. The move from NSD to crimes against children could not be accomplished in one leap. Besides, she was not that savvy—worn, thin-soled boots and a long flowery skirt with the big soft sweater to pick up the teal? A gold charm bracelet that peeked below the sleeve, shyly asking to be queried over and admired? Galloway, with his herbal supplements and out-of-control daughter, was just paranoid enough these days to recruit a susceptible wannabe to be his eyes and ears on a high-profile case. I really wanted to know to whom Kelsey Owen returned at night.
She trailed me into the supervisor’s office.
“Grab the hot seat,” offered Rick.
It was so cramped in there you got about two inches of legroom from the desk. Rick was looking expectantly over my head at Kelsey.
“I thought I would sit in. The SAC said it would be a good idea,” she announced.
“Really?”
“To learn from you. And Ana.”
Rick tipped back in his chair with a questioning look. If this was Galloway’s deal, Rick wasn’t in on it.
“Karen?”
“Kelsey.”
“Aren’t you on—?”
“The national security squad.” She nodded vigorously as if to affirm the waste of her talents. “But I have a degree in psychology and I want to move over to kidnapping.”
My boss rocked his chin at me. “If Ana doesn’t have any objection.”
How could I have an objection? Balling up the foil from the kiss, I fired it into the wastebasket.
“Nope.”
Kelsey settled into the other chair, positioned against the wall where I could not see her, like the goody-goody who always sat behind you, breathing cherry drops and ambition down your neck.
“This is what we’ve got from Quantico,” I told Rick. “At my request they sat with the locals and evaluated the evidence in those rape cases again. First of all, the victimology is similar. White teenage girls with long brown hair disappear from a mall. Nice girls, never in trouble, not your liberated types. Two of them are still missing. The victim in South Beach was reinterviewed. The assault took place in a vehicle. A truck. He was into asphyxiation. When he stopped at a gas station she escaped.”
“She wasn’t drugged?”
“No, but this was several