Killing Hour - Lisa Gardner [66]
What that meant, she didn’t want to know.
They made good time getting to Richmond. Mac handed her a printed-out e-mail, and she navigated to the offices of the U.S. Geological Survey team, which were located in an office park north of the city. First glance wasn’t what Kimberly had expected. The office park, for one thing, was plunked down in the middle of suburban sprawl. They passed a community college, a housing development, and a local school. There were lovely sidewalks shaded by graceful trees, wide expanses of deep green yards, and brightly flowering pink and white crepe myrtle trees.
The USGS office building, too, was different from what she had pictured. One story of brick and glass. Newer. Lots of windows. Nicely landscaped with more crepe myrtle trees and God knows what kind of bushes. Definitely a far cry from the usual government décor of monochromatic malaise.
So a nice building in a nice place. Kimberly wondered if Mac knew that the FBI Richmond field office was literally right down the street.
She and Mac got out of the car, pushed their way through the heavy glass door and were immediately greeted by the waiting receptionist.
“Ray Lee Chee,” Mac said. The receptionist smiled at them brightly, then led the way.
“He’s a botanist?” Kimberly asked as she followed Mac down the wide, sunny hall.
“Geographer, actually.”
“What’s a geographer?”
“I think he works on maps.”
“You’re bringing our leaf to a mapmaker?”
“Genny knows him. He went to school with her brother or something like that. Apparently he has a background in botany and he said he could help.” Mac shrugged. “I have no jurisdiction; it’s not like I can order up any expert I want in the state.”
The receptionist had arrived at an interior office. She gestured to the partially opened door, then turned back down the hall, leaving Kimberly alone with Mac, already wondering if this wasn’t some kind of fool’s errand.
“Mr. Chee?” Mac asked, poking his head through the doorway. A short, well-built Asian man promptly fired back his desk chair and popped up to greet them.
“Oh God, don’t call me that. Ray, by all means, or I’ll keep looking around for my father.”
Ray pumped Mac’s hand vigorously, then greeted Kimberly with the same enthusiasm. The geographer was younger than Kimberly would’ve thought, and definitely not a dried-out academic. He sported khaki shorts and a short-sleeved shirt made out of one of those micro-fibers favored by hikers for wicking the sweat from their bodies.
Now, he gestured them into his paper-jammed office, then bounced back into his chair with about four times the necessary energy. His biceps bulged even when sitting and his hands were moving a mile a minute around his desk, looking for God knows what.
“So Genny said you needed my help,” Ray stated brightly.
“We’re trying to identify a leaf. I understand you have some experience in that sort of thing.”
“Spent my undergrad days studying botany,” Ray said, “before I moved into geography. For that matter, I also studied zoology and for a brief stint in time, auto mechanics. Seemed kind of funky at the time. On the other hand, when our truck gets stuck out in the field, everyone’s happy to have me along.” He turned toward Kimberly. “Do you talk?”
“Not before coffee.”
“You need some java? I brewed the world’s strongest batch in the kitchenette just half an hour ago. Stuff will knock the ZZZs right out of you, while putting some hair on your chest.” He held up both of his hands, which were trembling with caffeine jitters. “Want some?”
“Mmmm, I think I’ll wait.”
“Well, suit yourself, but after the first sixteen ounces or so, I’m telling you, it’s not so bad.” His dark gaze rebounded to Mac. “So where’s the leaf?”
“Actually, we brought you a picture.” Mac dug into his folder and pulled out the piece of paper.
“That’s all you