Killing Hour - Lisa Gardner [37]
Kimberly parked her car outside the nondescript five-story building. She took a deep breath. She wondered if her father had ever felt this nervous before a case. Then again, had he ever gone off the beaten path? Risked everything to learn the truth for yet another dead girl in a world of so many murdered blondes?
Her cool remote father. She couldn’t picture it. Somehow that bolstered her spirits. She squared her shoulders and got on with it.
Inside, the odor hit her at once. Too antiseptic, too sterile. The smell of a place that definitely had things to hide. She went to the glass-enclosed receptionist area, made her request, and was grateful when the woman buzzed her straight through.
Kimberly followed a long corridor with stark walls and linoleum floors all the way to the back. Here and there metal gurneys were shoved up against bone-colored walls. Steel-gray doors led off other places, security boxes demanding access codes she didn’t have. The air was colder in here. Her footsteps rang out with a startling echo, while the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.
Her hands were trembling at her sides. She could feel the first trickle of sweat slide stickily down her back. Being inside this cool place should’ve been a welcome relief from the stifling outdoor heat. It wasn’t.
At the end of the hallway, she pushed through a wooden door into a new lobby area. This is where the ME’s offices were housed. She pressed a buzzer, and wasn’t horribly surprised when a door cracked open, and Special Agent Kaplan poked out his head.
“You lookin’ for the ME? He’s busy.”
“Actually, I’m looking for you.”
Special Agent Kaplan straightened in the doorway. This close Kimberly could see the faint sheen of silver mixed into his dark, buzz-cut hair. He had a weathered face, stern eyes, and thin lips that reserved judgment before smiling. Not a cruel man, but a hard one. He was the guy, after all, who kept all of the Navy plus the Marines in line.
This was not going to be easy.
“New Agent Kimberly Quincy,” Kimberly said, and stuck out her hand.
He accepted the handshake. His grip was firm, his expression wary. “You had quite a ride.”
“I understand you have questions for me. Given my schedule, I thought it might be easier if I found you. At the Marine base, they said you were here. So I decided to make the drive.”
“Your supervisor know you left the Academy?”
“I didn’t mention it to him directly. When I spoke with him this morning, however, he underscored the importance of cooperating fully with NCIS’s investigation. Naturally I assured him I would do whatever I could to help.”
“Uh huh,” Kaplan said. And that was it. He stood, he stared, and he let the silence drag on and on and on. If this man had kids, they never snuck out at night.
Kimberly’s fingers desperately wanted to fidget. She stuck them into her pockets and wished once more she were carrying her Glock. It was tough to project confidence when you were armed with a red-painted toy.
“I understand you visited my crime scene,” Kaplan said abruptly.
“I stopped by.”
“Gave the boys quite a scare.”
“With all due respect, sir, your boys scare easily.”
Kaplan’s lips finally cracked into a ghostly semblance of a smile. “I told them the same,” he said, and for a moment they were coconspirators. Then the moment passed. “Why are you crowding my case, New Agent Quincy? Hasn’t your father taught you better than that?”
Kimberly’s shoulders immediately went rigid. She caught the motion, then forced herself to breathe easy. “I didn’t apply to the Academy because my interests ran to sewing.”
“So this is an academic study to you?”
“No.”
That made him frown. “I’ll ask one more time: why are you here, New Agent Quincy?”
“Because I found her, sir.”
“Because you found her?”
“Yes, sir. And what I start, I like to finish. My father taught me that.”
“It’s not your case to finish.”
“No, sir. It’s your case to finish. Absolutely. I’m just a student.