The Perfect Husband - Lisa Gardner [127]
“I . . . I want to speak with you about my role in this case.”
“Your role? You’re not even officially on this case, Agent. So far your involvement is due to circumstance, not assignment.”
“I understand. I would like to change that if it’s possible. I’ve been interested in this kind of work for a long time.”
“I pulled your file.”
Marion waited patiently.
“You have a good record. Seems that you can be rigid at times, but you keep a cool head and have above-average analytics.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“But from what I could tell, your experience is in white-collar crimes, mostly bank frauds—”
“There have been some homicides,” she interjected. “Deals gone bad, informants who were found out, that kind of thing.”
“But always in conjunction with a fraud case.”
“Dead is dead, sir. They were connected with our work, crime scene came under our jurisdiction, and we got to figure out who killed them.”
“The Investigative Support Unit is different, Agent. It’s all we do. A typical cop may see a gruesome murder two or three times a year. They might see a serial killer once in their career.” Quincy gestured to the pictures spread out on the table. “This is all I see. One hundred and fifty cases of killing, rape, child molestation, and kidnapping. I deal only with the extremes, day in, day out. On the road, in the office, this is it.”
“I understand.”
“I would be lying if I said it didn’t get to you.”
Her chin came up. “I think I can handle it, sir.”
“I don’t think you know what ‘it’ is.”
“Is it because I’m a woman?”
“Don’t insult me, Agent.” His voice held clear warning. She persisted anyway.
“You talk statistics, sir. Well, the Bureau statistics show that female agents are disproportionately assigned to white-collar cases and not homicides.”
“That’s the Bureau. We have female profilers in the Investigative Support Unit—and they’re damn good. And you’re not them, Agent. They paid their dues. They served as cops, forensics pathologists, or criminologists. They all joined with extensive homicide experience. If you’re serious about the ISU, talk to your director about getting on some different cases. Prove yourself in the kiddie pool before you jump into the ocean.”
“I have this opportunity now.” Her voice was steady but her eyes burned. She was being put in her place and she hated it. Sometimes it seemed her whole life had been spent being put in her place by men who should’ve known better. Who should’ve trusted her more.
“I have some ideas,” she persisted.
“Agent—”
“Just hear me out. I looked at Jim Beckett’s file. I’ve spoken to Tess Williams at length. I think it’s clear, I think it’s obvious, Jim Beckett must have an accomplice. You said he can’t go long without female companionship. Tess also stated that he charms and seduces women as a hobby. I think there is someone helping him with everything, someone who helped him two and a half years ago, when he disappeared for the first time. And I think I may know how to find that person.”
Quincy appeared skeptical but he didn’t interrupt.
She kept talking before she lost her courage. “Let’s assume for a moment that the woman isn’t a random stranger but someone he’s known for a while. That means he would need to maintain the relationship even while in prison.”
“Shelly Zane was his only visitor ever logged.”
“Yes, but what about called? I checked with Walpole. Beckett was a model prisoner. He didn’t have any disciplinary tickets written up, and as a ‘ticket free’ maximum security inmate, he was entitled to four phone calls a month, up to thirty minutes apiece.”
“I know, Agent. And as you must have found out from Walpole, those calls are monitored. Prisoners must file all numbers with security to be approved. They don’t even get to dial. The guard brings the phone down to the cell, plugs it in, places the phone call, and then passes the phone through the window for the inmate to pick up. A four-digit security code has to be entered for any number to go through, so