Tess Gerritsen - Die Again

“What about Botswana? I’ve been thinking of going. Have you ever been?”

“Yes. You should definitely go.”

“When were you there?”

“I don’t know. Seven, eight years maybe. It’s beautiful, one of the last wild places on earth.”

She shut off the RECORD button. “Thank you. I think that’s all the information I need for now.”

He frowned. “That’s all you wanted to know?”

“If I have other questions, I’ll be in touch.”

“You will keep pursuing this, won’t you?” he said as she packed up the video camera. “It bothers me that it’s automatically dismissed as an accident.”

“At the moment, Dr. Oberlin, it’s difficult to call it anything but an accident. Everyone keeps telling me that big cats are dangerous.”

“Well, let me know what else you need from me. I’ll do everything I can to help.”

You already have , she thought as she walked out of his office, carrying the camera. Sunny weather and Saturday had brought crowds into the zoo, and she had to weave her way down the busy pathway. Now things could start to move fast. Four plainclothes officers were already on the premises, waiting for her call to arrest Oberlin. A tech team would swoop in to seize his computer and electronic files, and Maura was already collecting samples from the zoo’s Bengal tiger for the hair and fiber lab. The trap was ready to spring, and all Jane needed to deploy it was a positive ID from Millie.

By the time she walked into the administrative building’s conference room, where Frost and Millie were waiting for her, Jane felt electricity sizzling through every nerve. Like the hunter who’s sighted his prey, she could already smell her quarry’s blood in the air.

Jane connected the camera to the video monitor and turned to Millie, who stood gripping the back of a chair, her hands so tense the tendons looked ready to snap. For Jane, this was merely a hunt; for Millie, this could be the moment her nightmares ended, and she faced the video monitor like a prisoner begging for reprieve.

“Here we go,” Jane said, and pressed PLAY.

The screen flickered to life, and Dr. Oberlin appeared, frowning at the camera.

Do you really need to record this?

I want to have an accurate record. Plus, this frees me from having to take notes, so I can focus on the interview .

As the video played, Jane kept her eyes fixed on Millie. The only sound in the room was the recording of Jane’s questions, Oberlin’s responses. Millie stood rigid, hands still gripping the chair as if it were the only solid anchor in the room. She didn’t move, didn’t even seem to breathe.

“Millie?” said Jane. She pressed PAUSE, and the face of Gregory Oberlin remained frozen on-screen. “Is it him? Is it Johnny?”

Millie looked at her. “No,” she whispered.

“But you saw his photo yesterday. You said it might be him.”

“I was wrong. It’s not him.” Millie’s legs crumpled beneath her and she sank into a chair. “It’s not Johnny.”

Her answer seemed to suck all the air out of the room. Jane had been so certain they had the killer in their trap. Now, instead of Leopard Man, it appeared they’d caught Bambi. This was her reward for gambling everything on one shaky witness with an unreliable memory.

“Jesus,” muttered Jane. “So we’re back to nothing .”

“Come on, Rizzoli,” said Frost. “She was never really sure.”

“Marquette’s already on my back about the Cape Town trip. Now this.”

“What did you expect?” said Millie. She looked up at Jane with sudden anger. “For you, it’s just a jigsaw puzzle, and you thought I had the missing piece. What if I don’t?”

“Look, we’re all tired,” said Frost, playing the mediator as always. “I think we should take a deep breath. Maybe get something to eat.”

“I did what you asked. I don’t know what else I can do for you!” said Millie. “Now I want to go home.”

Jane sighed. “Okay. I know it’s been a rough day for you. We’ll have a patrolman drive you back to Maura’s.”

“No, I mean home . To Touws River.”

“Look, I’m sorry I snapped at you. Tomorrow, we’ll review everything again. Maybe there’s something—”

“I’m done with this. I miss my family. I’m going home.” Millie shoved back the chair and stood, eyes bright with a fierceness Jane hadn’t seen in her before. This was the woman who’d survived against all odds in the bush, the woman who’d refused to kneel down and die. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Jane’s cell phone rang. “We can talk about it later.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. If you won’t get me a flight, I’ll do it myself. I’m done with this.” She walked out of the room.

“Millie, wait,” Frost said, following her into the hallway. “Let me get someone to drive you back.”

Jane reached for her ringing cell phone and snapped: “Rizzoli.”

“Sounds like this is not a good time,” said criminalist Erin Volchko.

“As a matter of fact, it’s a lousy time. But go ahead. What’s up?”

“This may or may not improve your mood. It’s about those hair samples you collected from the mounted Bengal tiger. The one in the Gott residence.”

“What about them?”

“They’re brittle and degraded, with thinning and fusion of the surface cuticle. I suspect that tiger was killed and mounted decades ago, because these hairs show changes due to age and UV radiation. That’s a problem.”

“Why?”

“The tiger hair pulled from Jodi Underwood’s bathrobe showed no signs of degradation. It’s fresh.”

“You mean, like from a live tiger?” Jane sighed. “Too bad. We just crossed the zoo veterinarian off our list.”

“You told me there were two other zoo employees in the Gott residence earlier that day, delivering the snow leopard carcass. Their clothes are probably covered with all sorts of animal hairs. Maybe they shed hairs in the house, and the killer picked it up on his clothes. Tertiary transfer could explain how tiger hair got onto Jodi’s bathrobe.”

“So we could still be talking about the same killer, both murders.”

“Yes. Is that good news or bad?”

“I don’t know.” Jane hung up with a sigh. I don’t have a freaking clue how it all fits together . In frustration she unplugged the video camera from the monitor, coiled up the cables, and shoved everything into the carrying case. She thought about the questions she’d face at tomorrow’s case conference, and how to defend her decisions, not to mention her expenses. Crowe would pick at her bones like the vulture he was, and what was she going to say?

At least I got a trip to Cape Town out of it .

She rolled the media cart back to the side of the room where she’d found it and shoved it against the wall. Paused as something on that wall caught her eye. Hanging there were the names and qualifications of the Suffolk Zoo’s staff. Dr. Mikovitz, the veterinarians, and the various experts in birds, primates, amphibians, and large mammals. It was Alan Rhodes’s curriculum vitae that she focused on.

DR. ALAN T. RHODES.

BACHELOR OF SCIENCE, CURRY COLLEGE. PHD, TUFTS UNIVERSITY.

Natalie Toombs had also attended Curry College.

Alan Rhodes would have been a senior student the year Natalie vanished. She’d left her house to go on a study date with a man named Ted, and was never seen again. Until fourteen years later, when her bones turned up wrapped in a tarp, the ankles bound with orange nylon cord.

Jane dashed out of the conference room and bounded up the stairs to the zoo’s administrative offices.

The secretary glanced up with an arched eyebrow as Jane burst into the room. “If you’re looking for Dr. Mikovitz, he left for the afternoon.”