Chasing Evil (Circle of Evil) (6 page)

Pensive, Sophia turned to follow Jenna out of the room. She might be the outsider here, but her time on faculty at the U of I had taught her all she needed to know about inter-department politics. She couldn’t help but wonder about the conversation going on between Cam and his superior.

“It’s not your call.”

Gonzalez’s level tones didn’t fool Cam. She was holding her temper in check. After years of working closely with her prior to her promotion, he knew the signs. But he didn’t back off. This was too important.

“Too much information released to the press is always a bigger problem than not enough. The media can screw up a case more often than help it. You know that. At least you used to.”

The woman came half out of her chair, slapping her hand violently on the top of her desk. “You don’t have to lecture me, Prescott. I’ve spent considerable more years in the field than you have. But despite what you think about my current position, it comes with certain responsibilities. And handling the media is a headache that isn’t going to go away. A case this big has every newspaper in the state calling for updates. PR needs to feed the jackals regularly so they don’t start feeding on
us
. They need a new morsel to chew on and digest every couple days.”

“We release ID on two of the victims as soon as their families have been notified.” Cam reached for calm. The media was the bottom rung of his worries. Lower. He resented even the need for this conversation. “That should satiate their feeding frenzy for a while.”

“What about the Price brothers?”

He fixed Gonzalez with a look. “What about them?”

The woman never flinched. He’d appreciated her tenacity when they’d worked cases together. Found the quality a helluva lot less endearing now that she was his superior.

“You didn’t mention them in the briefing today. Are they considered people of interest in this case or not?”

“If they were, I would have included that, wouldn’t I? Jesus, Maria.” Suddenly spent, Cam rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve got law enforcement in the county keeping an eye on one brother, and the other is still locked up for the parole violation. Are they capable of running something like this? Possibly. But without anything solid to connect either of them to the case, we’re effectively log-jammed there.” Once again he gave silent thanks that Maxwell was handling the surveillance of Gary Price’s place. The weapon had come back bearing only Jerry Price’s prints. A search warrant for the farm was out of the question.

“At this point there are four or five violent offenders in the state we’re looking at. But I wouldn’t label any of them persons of interest. That’s all we need, having some enterprising reporter follow up on such a comment by nosing around and tipping the offender off before we get to them.”

A glance at her face showed she was unimpressed. “I’m well aware of your disdain for dealing with the media.”

“As I recall, you used to share it.”

Maria gave him a tight smile and leaned back in her chair. Her hair was grayer than it had been when they’d partnered together. There were a few more lines on her face. He wondered if they came from the job or from worry about her son. She’d raised the boy on her own and he’d been in and out of trouble for as long as Cam could recall. With a jolt he realized the ‘boy’ had to be in his early twenties now. It always surprised him anew that time had passed while he’d worked the task force. As if those events had transpired in a freeze frame, and when he’d finished, time should pick up again from when he’d left.

As if reading his thoughts Maria said, “While you were gone, I worked that child prostitution case operating in the Quad Cities. Remember hearing about it?”

By necessity, Cam’s undercover identity had been cloaked in isolation. There had been no contact with family. Friends. Co-workers. He’d reported to one person, a FBI handler, who’d also relayed messages between Cam and his mother. At least that had been the original promise, and one he’d trusted. It hadn’t been until much later than Cam would learn just how badly the fed had violated that agreement.

The memory soured his mood further. “I recall,” he said shortly. “I had plenty of time to catch up on my reading while I was on administrative leave.” First there had been the de-briefing. Then the medical leave for the superficial gunshot wound. It had taken far longer than it should have to be deemed fit to return to duty. And that experience still rankled.

“It was good investigative work.” His compliment was sincere. Gonzalez had been one of the best investigators he’d ever worked with. And the details about the harrowing life the children had been leading would tug at the most hardened heart. Maria’s file was no doubt filled with commendations and superior evaluations. But he’d be willing to bet it was that final case that sealed her promotion.

“And Phil Brown was a good MCU assistant director.” Her voice had gone as tired as her expression. “But he was crucified throughout the case. Local kids were being snatched and forced into child prostitution. All of a sudden our long held custom of protecting the integrity of our cases by releasing as few details as possible wasn’t enough. The successful resolution of the investigation didn’t pacify parents who blamed the agency for not releasing more information that might have allowed them to protect their children from being kidnapped. You think Brown had planned to take early retirement?” She shook her head. “Don’t kid yourself. The agency went into full cover your ass mode and he was the sacrificial lamb.”

“And MCU Assistant Director Miller learned a lesson from his fate.” A sense of foreboding filled Cam. Sure he’d read the case files, caught up on agency gossip, but the upper level politics didn’t always trickle down to the agents. He hadn’t known of Brown’s forced retirement from the helm of the major crimes unit. But hearing the story behind it now didn’t surprise him.

“Damn straight.” Gonzalez nodded. “I was promoted with a new set of expectations, and I’m judged harshly on how I handle the media. I’m not complaining, that’s the reality of my job, at least for the foreseeable future. The victim ID will keep them happy for a while. But I have to consider my next move before I need it. I agree that it would be detrimental to the investigation to release the information about how the killer is selecting his victims. That should be for LEO eyes only, at least for now. But we live in a CSI savvy society, and criminal profiles are sexy.” To Gonzalez’s credit, she grimaced as she said the words. “Releasing a portion of the behavioral profile Doctor Channing put together would go a long way toward putting a cutting edge forensic face on this investigation. One the public will understand and approve of.”

“It’s pandering, pure and simple,” Cam argued, losing the tenuous grip on his temper, “and it serves nothing in the long run. You heard Sophie.” He saw the look in the director’s eyes when he used the name. Realized his mistake immediately. But it was too late to rectify it. “The profile is an evolving document. Release one thing now and another later and the media could spin it that we’ve been chasing our tails. Not to mention that it unnecessarily frightens the segment of the public who doesn’t find criminal profiles
sexy
.”

He could see Gonzalez was unmoved and he mentally cursed. Long nights and a weekend spent working the case had left him even less diplomatic than normal. The rest of his team was working nearly as long hours as he was. And he was forced to argue about what to release to the press?

“Look.” It was a stretch but he reached for calm. “I appreciate the resources you’ve attained for this investigation. And I happen to think it’s paid off. We dug up the last of the bodies a week ago and have ID’d two victims already. We’ve nailed down a pretty solid MO for the killer. The lab’s promised to rush the results on the soil samples, which will help Connerly determine how long the victims have been in the ground and in what order they died. That’s lightning speed on a case like this and you know it.”

The director pressed the flat of her palm to her forehead, a sign Cam remembered. She suffered from migraines. It wasn’t the first time he’d given her one. “This isn’t going to be your decision. Keep me apprised. I want to see the lab results as soon as they come in. And go over the case files on the missing persons’ short list you compiled with a fine-toothed comb. One of them might have a key detail integral to this case.”

He tucked away the rest of his protests and his temper. Was mostly successful. “I know how to do my job.” He got up, intending to head for the door.

She fixed him with a long look. “If I didn’t believe that, you wouldn’t have been named lead agent on this case.”

On the surface the words were innocuous. Complimentary, even. But something in her tone alerted him. He stopped to turn to more fully face her. “You had someone else in mind?”

Maria didn’t look away. Her dark eyes turned shrewd. Assessing. “You’ve only been back on the job from your undercover assignment for a year. Some might say you need more time to re-acclimate yourself to agency work.”

A humorless smile pulled at his lips. “Because I spent nearly two years on a multi-agency task force investigation that my superiors urged me to join? No good deed goes unpunished, apparently.” But it was more than that, he knew. His struggles with post-traumatic stress after returning from undercover had been a factor in delaying his return to his job. Had obviously been weighed in determining his placement on this case.

“You’re lead.” She rose, indicating the meeting was at end. “But both of us have something to prove here. And a lot to lose. It’d be best to support each other in our respective positions.”

Sophia was on her way out of the building, her mind already full with plans for the evening. She needed to send a long chatty email to her parents. Usually Sunday evenings were reserved for contact with them, but they were traveling in Europe. And last night she’d spent most of her time immersed in the profile she was developing. Then there had been calls to return to Dr. Redlow, who was overseeing Sophia’s private practice client list. By the time she’d finished catching up on correspondence, it had been well past eleven.

A frown marred her brow as she considered the fact that she hadn’t heard from her parents lately, either. Both academics by profession and inclination, Helen and Martin Channing had been dismayed by her gravitation toward forensic psychology. With the benefit of hindsight, Sophia could freely admit that her plan to split her time between teaching at the university level and forensic consulting had been doomed for failure. It had been an effort to pacify her parents, and her then fiancée, who’d been equally disturbed by her ‘dark work’, as Douglas had dubbed it. They’d disapproved of her decision to leave the University of Iowa, and her marriage. Their disagreement was civil, barely mentioned anymore. But sometimes silence could be more stressful than the most violent argument.

She hurried her step, heels clicking on the tiled floor. Their reaction was predictable but difficult; in the way that parental disapproval was always difficult for an only child. She’d been a dutiful daughter, always doing the expected. Boring, Cam would call it, and she knew there was truth to that. But it was doing the unexpected that always landed her in emotional quagmires. First by taking up Louis Frein on his tantalizing offer to study at Quantico.

More recently by her short-lived affair with Cam Prescott.

The memory brought a surge of heat to her cheeks. Maybe she was programmed to act totally out of character once a decade. She hadn’t yet come up with any other explanation of why, after knowing Cam professionally for years, she’d decided to take him home one night last month and try him on for a couple weeks.

The ‘fit’ had been devastating. Addictive. And for the always-in-control Sophia Elise Channing, absolutely terrifying.

“Hold up for a minute, would you?”

She jolted at the feel of Cam’s hand on her arm. She’d been so immersed in thought she hadn’t even noticed him. But there he was, as if conjured by her memories.

Ridiculous to feel this zing of electricity at his touch, at his simple request. Juvenile, she mentally corrected. Sophia had never been the type for crushes and overactive hormones, not even as a high schooler. And she was far from a teenager now.

“Of course,” she answered casually. And just as casually stepped out of reach. It was useless to wish she’d done the same weeks ago when she’d looked up from her drink to see him standing there. Until then she’d had a solid guard against the man. How he’d managed to fragment her defenses in a matter of a few days remained a mystery.

He looked at her quizzically. “The way you were tearing by my office I thought maybe there was a fire and I just didn’t hear the alarm.” He gaze swept to her feet. Lingered. “Impressive. Never would have thought you could move that fast on those stilts you wear. There should be an Olympic event for that.”

Though he wasn’t quite smiling, the masculine creases beside his mouth had deepened in amusement. It was surely a measure of her weakness that she found the expression so attractive.

“Care to strap on a pair and race?”

Cam cocked his head, as if considering. “Think those pink things you wore the other day come in twelve wides?”

The mental picture conjured of him tripping along in canoe-sized open-toed pink pumps was ridiculous enough to draw a laugh. “You’d be surprised. But I’d be happy to check it out for you.”

He folded his arms, the stance pulling his suit coat across his shoulders. His suit today was a deep brown, several shades darker than his hair. “On second thought I think I’ll stick to my Nikes. Running will still is torture, but at least I can walk afterwards. I got your email.” The segue was so abrupt it took her a moment to follow. “I think we can probably arrange it.”

She must have looked as blank as she felt, because he added helpfully, “The email you sent today? About travel for the victimology analysis.”