was believed to be nineteen-year-old Missy Hooper, the local who had gone missing about a month ago.
“So the locals didn’t corrupt things too much?” Prusik made an effort to match Howard’s level tone, although her mind raced. It was hard to remain patient when it appeared that no clues were to be forthcoming.
“It’s hard to tell, Christine. Like I said, difficult terrain. It’s easy to stumble on a damn root hidden beneath the leaves,” Howard said as if he had done just that. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy removing the body. Hard to imagine there wasn’t some contamination by the locals. Tough break, huh?”
She mulled over the crime scene conditions—the chaotic trampling by local enforcement, and now Howard and his team stumbling over hidden roots. All of which could only obfuscatematters further and make it even less likely that she might find another piece of the puzzle. All of which conspired against the remains of whatever cordiality she could muster with Howard over the phone.
“Can you at least confirm that the body is protected, Bruce?” Howard’s cell phone had an irritating echo, feeding back Prusik’s own voice each time she spoke. “You’ve been to the coroner’s office?”
“I wouldn’t exactly describe it as a coroner’s office, not in any normal—”
“Yes, I get it. But is she properly bagged and in a cooler?”
“Look here, Christine, I’ve got a field unit on site. My orders are to secure the crime scene and collect evidence,” he responded crisply. “I assumed you’d be inspecting the body, personally. After all, that is your expertise.”
Christine’s jaw dropped at her subordinate’s reply. She forced herself to take a breath. “You’re absolutely right, Special Agent. I will be. And I’m sure I needn’t remind you this operation
does
require teamwork—in the lab and in the field.” The snap in her voice doubled back through her phone with a metallic reverb. “What’s with your phone, Bruce? Did it fall in the creek?” She clicked off, not waiting for his response, and unbuttoned the top of her shirt collar.
Bruce Howard had transferred in from the Boston office only four months earlier. A front-office man, he was good with a handshake in a gathering of troopers, a real man’s man—something there was no shortage of at the bureau. She had already witnessed Howard’s natural inclination to go directly to Thorne instead of following the chain of command through her—very likely Howard was unaccustomed to reporting to a woman—and she had noticed that Thorne hadn’t made a point of discouraging that behavior.
Prusik took a breath, relaxed her fist, and considered whether or not she might have handled things differently on the phone. Howard’s team had not recovered any physical evidence unlessinadvertently gathered inside one of the sampling bags. The intactness of the victim’s body was of paramount importance, and the concern she expressed with Howard
was
correct. She had been right to ask him about it. And the urgency in her voice had been appropriate, and the snap, too. This was their first assignment working together and already it was becoming a turf war, with Howard looking at his individual piece of the puzzle only and not seeing the larger whole. His ego and pride were unmistakable. Even with the poor quality of the cell reception, it was clear that Howard displayed not a single straw’s worth of team spirit, nor did he recognize the fact she was in charge, like it or not. But she couldn’t allow her frustration with him to cloud the larger issue: it was essential that they uncover more information about the killer. Soon. Immediately.
Her desk phone rang.
“Christine?”
“Well, who else?” She combed her fingers through her short hair. “Sorry, Brian, don’t mind me. What have you got?”
“I think you had better come down to the lab and see for yourself.”
She barely took the time to say “I’ll be right there” before
“So the locals didn’t corrupt things too much?” Prusik made an effort to match Howard’s level tone, although her mind raced. It was hard to remain patient when it appeared that no clues were to be forthcoming.
“It’s hard to tell, Christine. Like I said, difficult terrain. It’s easy to stumble on a damn root hidden beneath the leaves,” Howard said as if he had done just that. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy removing the body. Hard to imagine there wasn’t some contamination by the locals. Tough break, huh?”
She mulled over the crime scene conditions—the chaotic trampling by local enforcement, and now Howard and his team stumbling over hidden roots. All of which could only obfuscatematters further and make it even less likely that she might find another piece of the puzzle. All of which conspired against the remains of whatever cordiality she could muster with Howard over the phone.
“Can you at least confirm that the body is protected, Bruce?” Howard’s cell phone had an irritating echo, feeding back Prusik’s own voice each time she spoke. “You’ve been to the coroner’s office?”
“I wouldn’t exactly describe it as a coroner’s office, not in any normal—”
“Yes, I get it. But is she properly bagged and in a cooler?”
“Look here, Christine, I’ve got a field unit on site. My orders are to secure the crime scene and collect evidence,” he responded crisply. “I assumed you’d be inspecting the body, personally. After all, that is your expertise.”
Christine’s jaw dropped at her subordinate’s reply. She forced herself to take a breath. “You’re absolutely right, Special Agent. I will be. And I’m sure I needn’t remind you this operation
does
require teamwork—in the lab and in the field.” The snap in her voice doubled back through her phone with a metallic reverb. “What’s with your phone, Bruce? Did it fall in the creek?” She clicked off, not waiting for his response, and unbuttoned the top of her shirt collar.
Bruce Howard had transferred in from the Boston office only four months earlier. A front-office man, he was good with a handshake in a gathering of troopers, a real man’s man—something there was no shortage of at the bureau. She had already witnessed Howard’s natural inclination to go directly to Thorne instead of following the chain of command through her—very likely Howard was unaccustomed to reporting to a woman—and she had noticed that Thorne hadn’t made a point of discouraging that behavior.
Prusik took a breath, relaxed her fist, and considered whether or not she might have handled things differently on the phone. Howard’s team had not recovered any physical evidence unlessinadvertently gathered inside one of the sampling bags. The intactness of the victim’s body was of paramount importance, and the concern she expressed with Howard
was
correct. She had been right to ask him about it. And the urgency in her voice had been appropriate, and the snap, too. This was their first assignment working together and already it was becoming a turf war, with Howard looking at his individual piece of the puzzle only and not seeing the larger whole. His ego and pride were unmistakable. Even with the poor quality of the cell reception, it was clear that Howard displayed not a single straw’s worth of team spirit, nor did he recognize the fact she was in charge, like it or not. But she couldn’t allow her frustration with him to cloud the larger issue: it was essential that they uncover more information about the killer. Soon. Immediately.
Her desk phone rang.
“Christine?”
“Well, who else?” She combed her fingers through her short hair. “Sorry, Brian, don’t mind me. What have you got?”
“I think you had better come down to the lab and see for yourself.”
She barely took the time to say “I’ll be right there” before
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