Luring. Блейк Пирс

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СКАЧАТЬ and spoke to him quietly, apparently calming him down.

      Chief Messenger explained to Jake …

      “That’s Guy Dafoe, who owns this property. He’s an organic farmer—our local hippie, I guess you might say. He hasn’t been around for very long. It turns out this area is good for raising grass-fed organic beef. Organic farming’s been a real boost to the local economy.”

      The chief’s cellphone rang and he took the call. He listened for a moment, then said to Jake …

      “This is Dave Tallhamer, the sheriff over in Hyland. You may have heard there’s a suspect in custody for the first murder—Philip Cardin. He’s the victim’s ex-husband, and a bad sort who didn’t have an alibi at the time. Tallhamer thought he had him dead to rights. But I guess this new murder changes things, doesn’t it? Dave wants to know if he should let the guy go.”

      Jake thought for a moment, then said …

      “Not until I’ve had a chance to talk to him.”

      Chief Messenger squinted curiously and said, “Uh, doesn’t being locked in a jail cell when this woman was killed pretty much let him off the hook?”

      Jake suppressed a sigh of impatience.

      He repeated simply, “I’ll want to talk to him.”

      Messenger nodded and got back on the phone with the sheriff.

      Jake didn’t want to go into any kind of explanation right now. The truth was, he knew nothing at all about the suspect currently in custody, or even why he was a suspect. For all Jake knew, Philip Cardin might have a partner who committed this new murder, or else …

      God knows what might be going on.

      At this point in an investigation, there were always thousands of questions and no answers. Jake hoped that would change before too long.

      While Messenger kept talking on the phone, Jake walked over to the victim’s husband, who was leaning against a police car staring off into space.

      Jake said, “Mr. Nelson, I’m very sorry for your loss. I’m Special Agent Jake Crivaro, and I’m here to help bring your wife’s killer to justice.”

      Nelson nodded only slightly, as if he were barely aware that he’d been spoken to.

      Jake said in a firm voice, “Mr. Nelson, do you have any idea who might have done this? Or why?”

      Nelson looked at him with a dazed expression.

      “What?” he said. Then he repeated, “No, no, no.”

      Jake knew that there was no point in asking the man any more questions, at least not right now. He was clearly in a deep state of shock. That was hardly surprising. Not only was his wife dead, but the way she had died was especially grotesque.

      Jake headed back over toward the crime scene, where his forensics team was already hard at work.

      He looked all around, noting how isolated the place seemed to be. At least there wasn’t a crowd of gawkers hanging around …

      And so far no sign of the media.

      But right then he heard the sound of another helicopter. He looked around and saw that a TV news helicopter was descending toward the meadow.

      Jake sighed deeply and thought …

      This case is going to be tough.

      CHAPTER SIX

      Riley felt a sharp tingle of expectation when the speaker stepped in front of the 200 or so recruits. The man looked like he belonged to a different era, with his thin lapels and his skinny black tie and his buzz haircut. He reminded Riley of photos she’d seen of 1960s astronauts. As he shuffled through a few notecards, then looked out over his audience, she waited for his words of welcome and praise.

      Academy Director Lane Swanson began much as she had expected …

      “I know that you’ve all been working hard to prepare for this day.”

      He added with a half-smile …

      “Well, let me tell you right now—you’re not prepared. None of you.”

      An audible sigh passed through the auditorium and Swanson paused to let his words sink in.

      Then he continued, “That’s what this 20-week program is about—getting you as prepared as you can get for life in the Federal Bureau of Investigation. And part of that preparedness is learning the limits of preparedness, how to deal with the unexpected, learning to think on your feet. Always remember—the FBI Academy is called the ‘West Point for Law Enforcement’ with good reason. Our standards are high. Not all of you are going to get through this. But those of you who do will be as prepared as you can hope to be for the tasks that await you.”

      Riley hung on his every word as Swanson spoke about the Academy’s standards of fostering safety, esprit de corps, uniformity, accountability, and discipline. Then he went on to talk about the rigorous curriculum—courses in everything from law and ethics to interrogation and evidence collection.

      Riley felt more and more anxious at every word as the truth sank in …

      I’m not a summer intern anymore.

      The summer program seemed like some kind of teenage day camp in comparison to what she was now facing.

      Was she hopelessly out of her depth?

      Was this a bad idea?

      For one thing, she felt like a kid as she looked around at all the other seated recruits. Scarcely anyone here was her age. She sensed by the faces around her that almost everybody here already had at least that much experience under their belts, and some of them considerably more. Most were over the age of 23, and some looked like they were verging on the maximum recruitment age of 37.

      She knew that they came from all kinds of backgrounds and work fields. Many had been police officers, and many others had served in the military. Others had worked as teachers, lawyers, scientists, business people, and at many other occupations at one time or another. But they all had one thing in common—a powerful commitment to spend the rest of their lives serving in law enforcement.

      Only a few were here fresh out of the intern program. John Welch, who was sitting a couple of rows ahead of her, was one of them. Like Riley, he had been given a waiver to the rule that all recruits had to have at least three years of full-time law enforcement experience to enter the Academy.

      Swanson finished his speech …

      “I look forward to shaking the hands of those of you who make the grade here at Quantico. On that day, you’ll be sworn into service by FBI Director Bill Cormack himself. Good luck to all of you.”

      Then he added with a stern chuckle, “And now—get to work!”

      An instructor took Swanson’s place at the podium and began to call out the names of recruits—“NATs,” they were called, meaning “New Agents in Training.” As the NATs answered to their names, the instructor assigned them smaller groups that would be taking their classes together.

      As СКАЧАТЬ