Robin Burcell - Face of a Killer

She called Carillo the moment she was at the airport, gave him a quick rundown, and he said, “Well, that explains why the shit’s hitting the fan here. And I thought it was bad yesterday, after Scotty told them about the you-know-what on you that I’m not supposed to know about.”

“So he did tell Dixon?”

“I’m guessing so, since Dixon’s been holed up with him in the ASAC’s office all morning.”

“Any word on what they plan on doing?”

“Like find you a nice safe room where you can’t get into trouble? No idea. But they called me in, and asked if I knew where you took off to the other night.”

“What’d you tell them?”

“What do you think? To ask Scotty. He’s the one who took you home, maybe he knew.”

“And Scotty said what?”

“What could he say? The big nothing, since he’s the one who lost you.”

“And Dixon didn’t mention my flight to Texas?”

“He was too busy popping Tums. Lettie mentioned that you’d, uh, called in sick this morning. I’m sure he probably thought something’s up by now, but frankly, I’ve been keeping myself scarce and busy. Easy enough to do since Operation Barfly’s starting up tonight.”

“Barfly?”

“Doc Schermer came up with the name. Our multijurisdictional stakeout of the area bars, looking for Jane Doe’s killer. We got a tentative ID on her and a tip that she was last seen at one of our bars with a guy who, at least from the description given, matches your sketch of the suspect that attacked Tara Brown. I’ve got you assigned to barhop with me, but who knows how that’ll go over. Especially after today.”

“Any word on Wheeler’s photos yet?”

“Sorry. Not yet. But you know the moment we hear something…”

And all she could think was Johnnie Wheeler had three days from tomorrow.

Her phone beeped with a low battery warning. “Gonna have to go, before I lose you.”

“By the way, whose phone are you using, if you left yours behind?”

“My neighbor’s. The one who lent me his bike.”

“Nice neighbor.”

“Yeah. I should probably get him a Christmas present.”

“Before you start shopping, you might want to get your ass back here, see if you still have a job.”

“I’m boarding the plane as we speak.”

Sydney took a taxi home, stopped there long enough to shower, throw on some clean jeans, on the off chance that they might let her go out, then grabbed the same leather coat, as well as Arturo’s backpack, not having time to search out something better, because according to Lettie, her bosses were on the warpath, and Sydney was the star victim.

The office buzzed with activity when she walked in, agents who normally would’ve been winding down, getting ready to leave for the day, were now just coming in, checking weapons, cuffs, and radios for the upcoming task force operation. Lettie cornered Sydney the moment she saw her. “Dixon wants you in his office right away.”

“I’ll be right there.” She passed Carillo, who gave her a once-over at the sight of her sunburned face and scraped hands, then grinned.

“This the new Baja look?”

“You know me. Cutting-edge style.”

“Never seen you dressed casual before.” He leaned back in his chair, propped his feet up on the desk. “Want a bit of advice before you go in? Off the record, since Scotty informed me I know nothing.”

“Go for it.”

“Deny, deny, deny.”

“Gee, aren’t you the helpful one.”

“I’m here for you.” As she started toward her desk, he called out, “You look hot in black leather, but the whole reflective backpack? Gotta go.”

She walked back toward him, dumped her backpack on his desk, then leaned down so only he could hear. “Which reminds me. Inside is a bank pouch. That’s what they were shooting at me for, and maybe what Scotty and his crew are searching for.”

He eyed it with new interest. “That right?”

“Don’t ask me what the hell it is, but maybe you’ll have better luck. Just don’t go waving it around unless you’re wearing body armor.”

She left it with him, walked to Dixon’s office, ignoring the stares of her coworkers, who all seemed to know that something was up. She tried to look calmer than she felt, then knocked on the door.

Dixon gave a terse “Come in.”

She opened it, stepped in, saw him glance up at his Tahiti brochure next to his retirement calendar, as he popped a couple of Tums in his mouth, no doubt wishing for something stronger.

The ASAC had his back to her, talking, or rather listening to someone on the phone, and Scotty stood to one side, his arms crossed, a vein pulsing in his temple as he pinned his gaze on her. She tried not to look at him. “You wanted to see me?” she asked, then immediately regretted it. Of course he wanted to see her. Everyone in here knew it, and apparently everyone in the outer office knew it as well.

Dixon held up one finger, indicating she needed to wait until the ASAC was off the phone. She’d be lucky if he didn’t have her transferred to some safe house in Alaska, then ship her fifty boxes of data entry, just to keep her busy while they finished up their investigation.

Finally the ASAC hung up the phone. He stood maybe two inches taller than Sydney, salt and pepper hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. His wide mouth was set in a stern line as he turned toward her, clearly upset. “Special Agent Fitzpatrick,” he said, eyeing her clothes before meeting her gaze. “You are, of course, acquainted with Special Agent Scott Ryan.”

As acquainted as sleeping with the guy for six months could make her, she supposed. “Yes, sir.”

“I have just spent the past several hours with Special Agent Ryan, discussing an ongoing investigation into one or more persons on the staff of Senator Gnoble, whom I believe you’re also acquainted with. ..”

She waited, knew what was coming next, not sure what she could say that wouldn’t get her in more trouble than she was already in.

“Damn it!” He slammed his fist on Dixon’s desk, and she jumped slightly. Even Dixon and Scotty moved back an inch as he looked at her. “No one, and I mean no one threatens one of my agents and gets away with it.”

She stared in incomprehension. “Sir?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this. Someone in the senator’s office has made a threat to your life.”

She glanced at Scotty, his face impassive, before looking back at the ASAC, and saying, “A threat?”

“It may be worse. Special Agent Ryan, please inform her what you told me yesterday morning. And what you are asking of her.”

Scotty eyed her, nodded toward the chair, said, “Perhaps you should sit.”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“We have reason to believe that someone in the senator’s office has hired someone to… kill you.”

“ Kill me?” No one answered. She walked over to the window, looked out to the street below, doing her best to act surprised, shocked, realizing this was how Scotty intended to cover himself, inform her and let her bosses know-and not a word about Mexico. Finally she turned, faced them. “Do you know who?”

“We think so. We don’t know if he is the only one involved, or if

…” Scotty took a breath, held her gaze, as though he weren’t sure how she’d take this. Not bad, she thought. “Or if there is anyone else higher up who is in on this.”

“You mean the senator?”

“Yes.”

“I find that hard to believe. He’s a family friend.”

“We know that.”

“Why would anyone in his office want me dead?” she asked, trying her best to look mortified, and hoping one of them might slip up, tell her something Scotty hadn’t mentioned.

“We’re not sure,” Scotty replied. “But we think it may have something to do with what your father did for the government quite some time ago when he worked with Gnoble. And that material is classified.”