Lisa Gardner - The killing hour

She’d never been good at playing it safe.

She lifted her gaze and looked her supervisor in the eye. “Sir, I’d like to approach NCIS about assisting with the investigation.”

“Did you just hear anything I said?”

“I have some experience in these matters-”

“You know nothing about these matters! Don’t confuse personal with professional-”

“Why not? Violent death is violent death. I helped my father after my mother’s body was found. I’m now seven weeks from becoming a full-fledged FBI agent. What would it hurt to jump the gun a little? After all, I found her.” Her tone was possessive. She hadn’t meant to sound that way, realized it was a misstep, but it was too late to call it back now.

Watson’s face had darkened dangerously. If she thought he’d appeared stern before, he was downright intimidating now. “Kimberly… Let’s be frank. How do you think you’re doing as a new agent?”

“Hanging in there.”

“Do you think that’s the best goal for a new agent?”

“Some days.”

He smiled grimly, then steepled his hands in front of his chin. “Some of your instructors are worried about you, Kimberly. You have an impeccable resume, of course. You consistently score ninety percent or higher on your exams. You seem to have some skills with firearms.”

“But?” she gritted out.

“But you also have an attitude. Nine weeks here, Kimberly, and by all accounts you have no close friends, allies, or associates. You offer nothing to your classmates. You take nothing from them. You’re an island. Law enforcement is ultimately a human system. With no connections, no friends, no support, how far do you think you’re going to get? How effective do you think you can be?”

“I’ll work on that,” she said. Her heart was beating hard.

“Kimberly,” he said, gently now, and she winced further. Anger could be deflected. Gentleness was to be feared. “You know, you’re very young.”

“Growing up all the time,” she babbled.

“Maybe now is not the right time for you to join the Bureau-”

“No time like the present.”

“I think if you gave yourself a few more years, more space between now and what happened to your family…”

“You mean forget about my mother and sister?”

“I’m not saying that.”

“Pretend I’m just another accountant, looking for a little more excitement in my life?”

“Kimberly-”

“I found a corpse! Is that what this is about? I found a blight on the Academy’s front porch and now you’re kicking me out!”

“Stop it!” His tone was stern. It finally shocked Kimberly into silence and in the next instant she realized everything she had just said. Her cheeks flamed red. She quickly looked away.

“I would like to go back to class now,” Kimberly murmured. “I promise not to say anything. I appreciate the task NCIS has before it, and I wouldn’t want to do anything to compromise an ongoing investigation.”

“Kimberly…” Her supervisor’s tone was still frustrated. It appeared he might say something more, then he just shook his head. “You look like hell. You obviously haven’t slept in weeks, you’ve lost weight. Why don’t you go to your room and get some rest? Take this opportunity to recuperate. There’s no shame in slowing down a little, you know. You’re already one of the youngest applicants we’ve had. What you don’t accomplish now, you can always accomplish later.”

Kimberly didn’t reply. She was too busy biting back a bitter smile. She had heard those words before. Also from an older man, a mentor, someone she had considered a friend. Two days later, he’d put a gun to her head.

Please don’t let me tear up now. She would not cry.

“We’ll talk again in a few days,” Watson said in the ensuing silence. “Dismissed.”

Kimberly headed out of his office. She walked down the hall, passing three groups of blue-clad students and already hearing the whispers beginning again. Were they talking about her mother and sister? Were they talking about her legendary father? Or maybe they were talking about today, and the new body she of all people had managed to find?

Her eyes stung more fiercely. She pressed the heels of her hands against her temples. She would not give in to pity now.

Kimberly marched to the front doors. She burst back into the blistering hot sun. Sweat immediately beaded across her brow. She could feel her T-shirt glue itself stickily to her skin.

But she did not return to her room. NCIS would want to talk to her. First, however, they would want to finish up at the scene. That gave her a solid hour before anyone would come looking for her.

An hour was enough.

Kimberly made a beeline for the woods.

Quantico, Virginia

11:33 A . M .

Temperature: 89 degrees

“TIME OF DEATH?”

“Hard to tell. Body temperature reads nearly ninety-five, but the current outside temp of eighty-nine would impede cooling. Rigor mortis appears to be just starting in face and neck.” The white-clad ME paused, rolled the body slightly to the left and pressed a gloved finger against the red-splotched skin, which blanched at his touch. “Lividity’s not yet fixed.” He straightened back up, thought of something else, and checked the girl’s eyes and ears. “No blowfly larvae yet, which would happen fast in this heat. Of course, the flies prefer to start in the mouth or an open wound, so they had less opportunity here…” He seemed to consider the various factors one last time, then delivered his verdict. “I’m going to say four to six hours.”

The other man, probably an NCIS special agent, looked up from his notes in surprise. “That fresh?”

“That’s my best guess. Hard to know more until we cut her open.”

“Which will be?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

The special agent stared at the ME.

“Six A.M.?” the ME tried again.

The special agent stared harder.

“This afternoon,” the ME amended.

The special agent finally cracked a smile. The ME sighed heavily. It was going to be one of those cases.

The investigating officer returned to his notes. “Probable COD?”

“That’s a little trickier. No obvious knife or gunshot wounds. No petechial hemorrhages, which rules out strangulation. No bleeding in the ears, which eliminates some brain traumas. We do have a large bruise just beginning to form on the left hip. Probably occurred shortly before death.” The ME lifted up the girl’s blue-flowered skirt, eyed the contusion again, then shook his head. “I’m going to have to do some blood work. We’ll know more then.”

The investigating officer nodded. A second man, also clad in khakis and a white dress shirt, moved in to snap more shots with a digital camera, while several grim-faced Marines stood guard along the yellow-ribbon-draped scene. Even in the deep shade of the woods, the heat and humidity were impossible to escape. Both NCIS special agents had sweated through their long-sleeved shirts, while the young sentries stood with moisture rolling down their chiseled faces.

Now the second special agent, a younger man with the requisite buzz-cut hair and squared-off jaw, looked down the heavily wooded path. “I don’t see drag marks,” he commented.

The ME nodded and moved to the victim’s black sandals. He picked up her foot and studied the heel of her shoe. “No dirt or debris here. She must’ve been carried in.”

“Strong man,” the photographer said.

The first special agent gave them both a look. “We are on a Marine base cooccupied by FBI trainees; they’re all strong men.” He nodded back toward the victim. “What’s with the mouth?”