Unspeakable (35 page)
She gazed up at Ric now and saw more than hostility in his eyes. Was it concern? Was he actually worried about her?
“
I’m leaving tomorrow,” she told him. “As planned. Two heads are better than one. And ten heads are better than two. You got me involved in this thing, and now that I am, I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
Elaina strode through the cubicles and tried to shrug off the curious stares of her colleagues. Flak jackets were one thing, but agents didn’t typically roll into work wearing running gear and looking as if they’d just undergone a chemical peel. Elaina stopped at her cube and shuffled through the message slips and sticky notes littered across her desk. She quickly logged onto the computer and checked her in-box. She found dozens of items that needed her attention, but no word from Special Agent Rey Santos in San Antonio.
“McCord.”
She glanced up to see Loomis standing beside her cube. His starched shirt and tie were a marked contrast to her own flame-broiled appearance.
“Glad you stopped by,” he said. “We need to talk.”
Elaina replaced the phone. Loomis jerked his head toward a nearby conference room, and she followed him without comment.
Glad you stopped by?
Since when was Loomis in charge of her schedule? Yes, she was on his task force, but she was pretty sure she—like everyone else in this building—still answered to Scarborough.
“Have a seat,” he said, and she couldn’t stop herself from taking a furtive look at her watch. “Am I making you late for something?”
“No,” she lied, and lowered herself into a chair.
He leaned back in his seat. “We missed you at the task force meeting this morning.”
“
I was at the wildlife park. Officer Chavez and I—”
“I know, I know.” He waved her off. “The geocaching thing. I heard you struck out.”
“Not exactly. We found two of three caches listed on the Web site, but both were empty, unfortunately. I had the Evidence Response Team collect them for processing.”
He gazed at her with a look that was part annoyance, part disbelief.
“Since joining this team, you’ve missed two task force meetings.”
Elaina held her shoulders rigid and forced herself not to squirm. “I was investigating—”
“You were investigating a lead, I know. But you’re part of a team, McCord. Or at least you were. And it’s not your job to go blazing out on your own to Mexico and wherever else, chasing down dragonflies and buried treasure. We do things as a unit around here.” His gaze veered to her stitches. “Part of that’s for your protection.”
Elaina swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry. Did you just tell me I’m
no longer
on the task force?”
“That’s correct.”
She surged to her feet. “But that’s not fair! You haven’t even listened—”
“
You
haven’t listened. Or followed direction. Or shown common sense. Hell, just this morning you took a POI with you to a closed crime scene.”
“Cinco Chavez isn’t a person of interest,” she protested. “I told you—”
“That’s my call, not yours. You’re off, McCord.”
“But—”
“Save your breath.” He stood up now, too. “It’s not my decision, and even if it was, I wouldn’t change it.”
She stood there, stunned. “Whose decision is it?”
And then her question was answered when Scarborough stepped into the room. Loomis traded looks with the supervisory special agent, then cast a last baleful glance in Elaina’s direction before walking out the door.
Scarborough took Loomis’s place at the conference table. He reached over and snapped shut the mini-blinds on the window facing the bullpen. Elaina’s stomach plummeted.
“Sit down,” he said.
She sat.
The seconds ticked by as he pinned her with a stern expression. He leaned back in the chair and propped an elbow on the table.
“Special Agent McCord.” His voice oozed disapproval.
“Yes, sir.”
He cocked his head to the side and watched her. “Do you know how many years I’ve got in?”
She floundered for a response. “Years you… No. No, sir, I don’t.”
“Twenty-three. Last ten of ’em here, too.” He tapped his knuckles on the table. “That’s three more years than your father had before he retired to write his books, you realize that?”
Her stomach filled with dread. A vague impression she’d had since the first day she’d walked into this office began to crystallize.
“I’m sorry, sir, but what does my father have to do with this discussion?”
He gazed at her for a few endless seconds. “Something interesting happened right before you showed up
here last fall. I got a call from Quantico. Were you aware of that?”
Elaina opened her mouth, but nothing came out. What had her father
done
?
“Someone very well-connected in this organization strongly
suggested
that I encourage you to rethink your career choice.”
“That you… what?”
“I was told to weed you out, McCord.”
Elaina couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe.
Scarborough leaned back in the chair, watching her. “You know, some folks think this office is like the Wild West. They’re not too far off, really, when you consider some of the shit we’re dealing with. Quantico usually gives us a lot of latitude, and I like it that way. What I
don’t
like is some pencil pusher calling me up and telling me how to run things. And as it turns out, the call wasn’t really necessary because you’ve been doing a pretty good job of getting weeded out all by yourself.”
He flipped open the file sitting in front of him, and Elaina noticed it for the first time. She held her breath.
“Some notes from your field supervisor,” he said. “‘The agent is highly intelligent, has strong organizational skills, and shows great attention to detail.’”
Elaina cleared her throat. “Thank you. Sir, I—”
“It also says here that you’re a loner, that you’re headstrong, and that you have a tendency toward insubordination.”
Elaina clamped her mouth shut.
“Loomis is even less impressed than that. He thinks you’re a liability to this office and is suggesting a letter
of censure in response to your behavior since you joined his task force.”
Her mind reeled. A letter of censure would follow her around for years, making it virtually impossible for her to join an elite team within the Bureau. She heard her dreams of becoming a profiler being crushed like a tin can.
“That’s Loomis’s take,” Scarborough said. “I’m inclined to hold off.”
She blinked at him. “Why?”
“Because of this lead you developed. The computer game. Loomis thinks it’s screwy as hell, but we’re dealing with a man who disembowels women for fun. I’d be surprised if he
didn’t
have a screw loose. Anyone with a map can see there’s something to the theory.”
She held her breath, waiting.
“You might say your ability to think outside the box saved your ass this time.” He flipped the file shut. “The letter of censure’s on hold for now, but you’re done with the task force. I want you off that island and back at your desk by Monday morning.”
“But I was planning to go to Coconuts tonight. To help with surveillance.”
“Forget it—that’s his trolling ground. And we’ve got more than enough men assigned to it.”
She opened her mouth, but he cut her off with a look.
“That’s it, McCord. You’re off the task force. Even if Loomis wanted you on his team—which he doesn’t—the unsub’s fixated on you. He’s reached out to you about his last three kills.”
“He didn’t call about Angela,” she rushed to say. “I haven’t heard from him in days.”
“
Are you sure? No odd phone calls? No notes on your windshield or slipped under your door?”
Elaina froze. She thought of the incident with her car the other night, when she thought she’d left the lights on.
“Maybe he’s taking a breather, then, but it won’t last long.” Scarborough pushed the file away and crossed his arms. “Anyway, he’s toying with you, and I’m not planning to dangle one of my agents out there like bait. Dismissed.”
“But, sir—”
“Dismissed, McCord. I’ll see you here Monday.”
Mia waded through bar patrons, searching for Elaina McCord. This place was packed tonight, but the woman had to be here somewhere.
An icy drizzle of beer landed on Mia’s shirt. She gasped and looked up to see a man grinning down at her from beneath his baseball cap.
“’Scuse, me.” He toasted her with his cup. “Didn’t mean to do that.”
Yeah, right.
Mia was about to tell him off when she spotted Elaina on the other end of the volleyball court, standing beside a group of agents.
“Hey, you want a drink?” the beer-slosher asked.
Mia ignored him and plowed her way through the crowd. Elaina was deep in conversation with Weaver, who looked extra grim this evening, despite his don’t-worry-be-happy attire. Elaina, by contrast, was dressed kick-ass agent style in a black pantsuit and white shirt.
Elaina pretended not to notice her, and Mia waited patiently for her to look up.
“Is it true?” Mia asked.
Elaina traded looks with Weaver before responding. “Is what true?”
“That you’re off the case.”
“It’s true.”
“I can’t believe it! How can they take you off?”
“They can do whatever they want,” Elaina said, and glanced at her watch. “Anyway, I need to get going.”
She wouldn’t make eye contact, and that—more than anything—told Mia she was near the breaking point.“Wait.” Mia clasped Elaina’s arm, obviously startling her. “Just… let’s have a drink, okay?”
“I really can’t.”
“Just for a minute. Before you go.”
Mia claimed a bar stool a few spots down from Weaver, who was eyeing her curiously. They probably thought she was a little nutty, and maybe she was, after spending the past five nights burning the candle at both ends. Mia’s nerves were frayed, so she had at least an inkling of what Elaina was feeling.
Elaina sighed. One more glance at her watch, and she took a stool. “A Coke, please,” she told the bartender.
Mia ordered a margarita, and Elaina watched her impatiently.
“So did you want to talk about something in particular, or… ?” She waited for Mia to fill in the gap.
Mia watched her for a moment, and then she
got
it. Her fuzzy view of the taciturn special agent suddenly sharpened.
“You don’t have a lot of girlfriends, do you?” Mia asked.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re extremely direct. And you don’t like to chat.” She shrugged. “It’s just an observation.”
Elaina cast an annoyed look at the bartender, as if wishing he’d hurry up with their drinks.
Mia reconsidered her take on the situation. Maybe this was a Troy thing. Maybe Elaina had picked up on something from her and Alex and was on the defensive about it.
Elaina met her gaze now. “What is it you wanted, exactly?”
Or maybe she was just prickly.
“I wanted to see if you might try to stay on,” Mia said.
“It’s not my decision.”
The drinks came, and Mia stirred hers thoughtfully. “You realize you’re the only woman on this case, don’t you?”
Elaina sipped her Coke and looked away.
“And you realize you’re the only one who believes in this Web angle, right? If you leave, who’s going to follow up on that?”
“That’s not my call. I’m off the team.”
Mia rolled her eyes. “This is your brainchild, Elaina. You convinced Ben. You convinced me. You even convinced Ric, and now you’re leaving? Why won’t you fight for your case? I think you’re on to something here, and now it’s going to fall by the wayside.”
“It won’t fall by the wayside.”
“How do you know?”
“Because,” she said, her voice tight with suppressed emotion, “at this very moment my vehicle is on its way to the lab. The unsub left me a note two nights ago—the GPS coordinates where Angela Martinez was found. Only, I didn’t realize what he’d done until it was too late to help her.”
Elaina downed the rest of her Coke and plunked the glass on the bar. She started to reach for some money, but Mia stopped her.
“He left a note in your
car
?” she asked.
“Yes.” Finally, Elaina looked at her, and Mia recognized the emotion swimming in her eyes: guilt.
Mia pulled a credit card from her purse. “Don’t take that on, Elaina. It’s not your fault. You did everything you could.”
Elaina snorted. “That’s crap. If I’d done everything I could, she’d be alive right now. This guy tried to give
me
a message, and I was too blind to see it.”
Mia watched her with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Ric was right. The killer was fixated on her.
“I think your boss is right,” she said now. “You should step aside. Your colleagues can handle this one without you.”
Elaina glared at her. “You want to know how they’re handling it? Look around this place.” She gestured to the agents standing around in khaki shorts and deck shoes. “It looks like a freaking Land’s End photo shoot. And you want to know who they interviewed this afternoon? Cinco Chavez! I swear to God—” Elaina pinched the bridge of her nose and turned away.
