here.” His face crumpled suddenly. “I should have got her that dog. She wanted a little dog to keep her company when I wasn’t here, especially when I was gone overnight for business. I really should have got her that dog.”
Wary of the emotional storm he could see looming, Jordan said quickly, “Had you noticed anything different yourself? I mean, had you seen anybody hanging around in the neighborhood, a stranger or just somebody who made the hair on the back of your neck stand up for no reason you could be sure of?”
“Around here? No.”
“And Karen didn’t mention anything? She hadn’t seen anything or anyone that made her uneasy?”
Norvell frowned suddenly. “Wait a minute. She did say the girls at the bank teased her about somebody taking pictures of her, that she had a secret admirer. She laughed it off, said she thought they were pulling her leg, because she never saw anybody.”
“When was this?”
“Oh, hell, Jordan, it was back in the summer. I remember because she hadn’t mentioned it to me until we were at the beach on vacation. To be honest, it sort of
did
make the hair on the back of my neck stand up, if just for a second or two. You remember how it was back in the summer; you couldn’t turn on the news without hearing about this killer or that stalker, like the whole country was full of psychos, so I was worried. But she laughed it off. And by the time we got home…”
By the time they returned home, both suspicion and uneasiness had been forgotten. Understandably.
“I’ll talk to the girls at the bank,” Jordan said briskly, “and see if they remember anything that might help us. It’s probably nothing, Bob, but it won’t hurt to check.”
“You’ll let me know if you find out anything?”
“Of course. Of course I will.” Jordan felt like a bastard, a part of him wanting to warn Bob Norvell to start his grieving now. But the cop, of course, kept the man silent.
“I should have got her that dog,” Norvell mumbled.
Y ou can go the formal route, of course,” Miranda Bishop told Marc. “Contact the FBI, report the crime and your suspicion that you could have a serial operating here in Venture.”
“And?”
“And the Bureau, following procedure, would have Behavioral Science study all the crime-scene information, possibly contact and interview some of your people, and formulate a profile of the unknown subject. Your killer.”
Nobody had ever accused Marc of being slow on the uptake. “Bureaucratic red tape. Which would take how long?”
“You might get a preliminary profile in a week, more likely two or three weeks given the Bureau’s current workload. And it would of course be based only on what’s happened here, treating this killer and this hunting ground as unique.”
Marc leaned forward, elbows on knees, and kept his gaze on Miranda, despite his growing awareness of Dani and her utter stillness only a few feet away. Why was she so damn silent? He wasn’t vain enough to believe it was all about him, so what was it?
Staring at the agent, he asked, “Is that why you’re here? To warn me that the FBI is not going to be much help to me in this investigation?”
“No, I’m here to warn you that for political and bureaucratic reasons too numerous to go into, the FBI is having internal issues of its own, and those unfortunately affect the SCU. Ideally, an SCU team would be sent here immediately, especially given the viciousness of the crime, to aid you and your people in every way possible.”
“But that won’t happen this time. Officially.”
Miranda nodded. “Noah is very good at playing the political game when he has to, and right now he has to if the SCU is going to survive. So the unit’s top agents, including him, have to remain in Boston, working with a task force set up this summer to investigate a series of murders in that city. I’m sure you remember.”
It was his turn to nod, slowly. “Murdered a senator’s daughter, the final
Wary of the emotional storm he could see looming, Jordan said quickly, “Had you noticed anything different yourself? I mean, had you seen anybody hanging around in the neighborhood, a stranger or just somebody who made the hair on the back of your neck stand up for no reason you could be sure of?”
“Around here? No.”
“And Karen didn’t mention anything? She hadn’t seen anything or anyone that made her uneasy?”
Norvell frowned suddenly. “Wait a minute. She did say the girls at the bank teased her about somebody taking pictures of her, that she had a secret admirer. She laughed it off, said she thought they were pulling her leg, because she never saw anybody.”
“When was this?”
“Oh, hell, Jordan, it was back in the summer. I remember because she hadn’t mentioned it to me until we were at the beach on vacation. To be honest, it sort of
did
make the hair on the back of my neck stand up, if just for a second or two. You remember how it was back in the summer; you couldn’t turn on the news without hearing about this killer or that stalker, like the whole country was full of psychos, so I was worried. But she laughed it off. And by the time we got home…”
By the time they returned home, both suspicion and uneasiness had been forgotten. Understandably.
“I’ll talk to the girls at the bank,” Jordan said briskly, “and see if they remember anything that might help us. It’s probably nothing, Bob, but it won’t hurt to check.”
“You’ll let me know if you find out anything?”
“Of course. Of course I will.” Jordan felt like a bastard, a part of him wanting to warn Bob Norvell to start his grieving now. But the cop, of course, kept the man silent.
“I should have got her that dog,” Norvell mumbled.
Y ou can go the formal route, of course,” Miranda Bishop told Marc. “Contact the FBI, report the crime and your suspicion that you could have a serial operating here in Venture.”
“And?”
“And the Bureau, following procedure, would have Behavioral Science study all the crime-scene information, possibly contact and interview some of your people, and formulate a profile of the unknown subject. Your killer.”
Nobody had ever accused Marc of being slow on the uptake. “Bureaucratic red tape. Which would take how long?”
“You might get a preliminary profile in a week, more likely two or three weeks given the Bureau’s current workload. And it would of course be based only on what’s happened here, treating this killer and this hunting ground as unique.”
Marc leaned forward, elbows on knees, and kept his gaze on Miranda, despite his growing awareness of Dani and her utter stillness only a few feet away. Why was she so damn silent? He wasn’t vain enough to believe it was all about him, so what was it?
Staring at the agent, he asked, “Is that why you’re here? To warn me that the FBI is not going to be much help to me in this investigation?”
“No, I’m here to warn you that for political and bureaucratic reasons too numerous to go into, the FBI is having internal issues of its own, and those unfortunately affect the SCU. Ideally, an SCU team would be sent here immediately, especially given the viciousness of the crime, to aid you and your people in every way possible.”
“But that won’t happen this time. Officially.”
Miranda nodded. “Noah is very good at playing the political game when he has to, and right now he has to if the SCU is going to survive. So the unit’s top agents, including him, have to remain in Boston, working with a task force set up this summer to investigate a series of murders in that city. I’m sure you remember.”
It was his turn to nod, slowly. “Murdered a senator’s daughter, the final
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