The 7th Victim - Alan Jacobson [80]
“Agent Vail,” Gifford said, forcing the smile from his lips. “I thought you were supposed to remain at home pending the investigation.”
“I have something to discuss with you, sir. Just came up.” She glanced over at Del Monaco, who was biting his lip . . . as if he was still thinking about the joke. Unless the joke was about her.
Gifford bent his head down and ruffled some papers, no doubt to keep himself from looking at Del Monaco and losing his composure. “Agent Del Monaco,” he said, “a moment please.”
“Yes, sir.” Del Monaco stood and turned to walk past Vail, a grin widening his face.
The door slipped shut behind her, and Vail stepped forward. “I was thinking—”
“How’s your son?”
She hesitated a second, changing gears in her brain from business to personal. “Not much change. Some slight improvement.”
“Good. That’s good. Slight improvement is better than no improvement.”
She twisted her lips, confounded by his awkward attempt to show concern. “Sir, I had a thought about victim number three. The one everyone doubts was done by Dead Eyes—”
He held up a hand. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re on suspension.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. She wanted to tell him that even though she draws her paycheck from the government, she really works for the victims—and they haven’t taken her off the job. Instead, Vail chose the less confrontational thought that flittered into her brain. “But being on suspension doesn’t mean my mind turns off. I’m still working the case in my head.”
“Just make sure it stays in your head. I don’t want any media hounds ramming mikes up my ass asking about your involvement. Bureau’s in for enough embarrassment once they find out you beat up your husband.”
“Ex-husband. And I’m certainly not going to talk to any reporters.”
“They have ways of finding these things out, you know that. That’s if your ex doesn’t make the call himself.”
Vail sighed. The last thing she needed was the newsies invading her privacy. “Sir, about vic three. I can explain why the scene’s different, why the Dead Eyes behaviors are absent.”
Gifford rubbed at his eyes, then swiveled his chair to face the large window and his second-story view. “We’ve been through this so many times—”
“I didn’t have proof before. Now I do.”
“Fine. Tell it to Del Monaco, he’ll present it to the unit.”
“Why Del Monaco?”
“He’s been assigned the file until further notice.”
Vail looked away. It was like a slap to the face, but in the instant it took her to process the comment, she realized it was a likely development. Someone had to take it over. “I’d like to be the one to present it. It’s my theory, it’s already . . . a volatile topic. I think I should be there to stand behind it, to give it the attention it deserves.”
Gifford leaned back in his chair a bit and rocked, as if mulling over her request. “I really think it’s in your best interest to distance yourself from the Dead Eyes case—”
“You mean from the Bureau.” She felt her blood pressure going up, the line of mercury rising in the narrow glass tube.
He spun his chair around to face her. “I mean from both. Look,” he said, lowering his voice, “you’ve got enough trouble without Linwood and the police chief on your back, too.”
“Linwood and the police chief?”
“There’s only so much I can do to protect you.”
“With all due respect, I don’t need your protection.”
“Yes, you do.” He looked away. “I’ve already gotten calls. Pressure from all levels. I’m standing behind you, Karen, because I think you’re a damn good profiler. One of the best I’ve got. Now I’m asking you, don’t blow your career over this. Focus your energies on beating this rap. Then we’ll worry about Dead Eyes. If he’s still at large, you’ll get the case back.”
“I guess I should thank you, for helping out. I appreciate it.” She sat down in