The District. Carol Ericson

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СКАЧАТЬ called after the hunched shoulders. “You might be on to something, Officer.”

      The lieutenant snapped his reddish brows together. “Don’t encourage him. He’s just a rookie on patrol. I can assure you, Agent Sandoval, you’re not dealing with some hick department.”

      “This is San Francisco. I never thought I was, Lieutenant.” She turned her head and covered her mouth with her hand. Inferiority complex much? “Can you tell me anything more about the murder?”

      “Without an autopsy, it’s what we suspected at first—severe head trauma followed by the slitting of the throat.”

      “Blunt object?”

      “Yep.”

      “He must be incapacitating them with the blow to the head, which then allows him to cut their throats.”

      “Victim lost a lot of blood.”

      “Just like Liz Fielding and the one up in Portland.”

      “At least he’s consistent.”

      “Except for this.” She flicked the bag he still held in his hand. “Unless we missed something at those other crime scenes.”

      “Is this going to send you back up to Portland, Agent Sandoval?”

      She tossed her ponytail over one shoulder. “Why? Trying to get rid of me, Lieutenant Fitch?”

      “Naw, we love it when the fibbies come around and trample all over our procedures and protocol.”

      Arching one eyebrow, she said, “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

      “You’re all right, so far, Agent Sandoval. We’ve just had a few bad experiences with you boys...ah, folks.”

      “You can start by calling me Christina, and I’m not here to trample over your procedures and protocol. I’m here to find a killer and get some justice for these victims. I hope that’s your objective, too, Lieutenant Fitch.”

      He thrust out his hand. “Call me Charlie.”

      “Done deal, Charlie. Now let’s nail this SOB.”

      * * *

      “I MISS YOU, Kendall. Be a good girl for G-Ma.” Christina blew kisses at the laptop until her mother’s face filled the screen.

      “I’m taking her to the park today. What are you doing? Are you going to stay in the city? At least you’re not too far away this time. You can pop in for a visit.”

      “With this third murder, I’ll be here for at least another week, but it looks like I need to go back to Portland for some further investigation.”

      Her mother ran a hand through her still-lustrous dark hair streaked with silver. “I wish you’d take some nice desk job and settle down. Kendall needs a father and some stability.”

      Christina put a hand over her heart where the guilt stabbed her. “Kendall has a father and right now you’re providing the stability, Mom. After this case, I’m planning on doing more profile work. Believe me, I’ll be spending lots of time at my desk.”

      “Yeah, well about Kendall’s father...”

      “Oops, gotta go, Ma. Have fun at the park and if you have time take Kendall for a shaved ice at that new place. She loves that stuff, even though half the ice ends up in her lap.”

      Her mom shook her head. “You need to get your life in order.”

      “I will. I am. Love you, Ma.”

      She ended the videoconferencing session and shoved the computer off her lap. She hated it when her mother was right.

      She rolled off the bed and headed to the bathroom. Now that she had Charlie Fitch on her side, he’d invited her to the station today to review the report on the latest murder. The Portland P.D. had done some more background on the victim, and she had nothing in common with the previous victim in San Francisco or the woman yesterday—nothing except the tarot cards shoved between their cold, dead fingers.

      And the other tarot card? Had there been another tarot card in the vicinity of the other victims that they’d missed?

      She’d called her bureau chief, Rich Greavy, to report this recent finding, but she had to leave a message for him. The fact that he wouldn’t take her call didn’t surprise her. Even if he didn’t get back to her, she knew he’d give his approval for her to return to the other crime scene in Portland—as long as she stayed out of his hair.

      She showered and changed into yet another pantsuit, the unofficial uniform of the female FBI agent. She paired the beige slacks and jacket with a peach blouse and some sky-high heels. They went well with the .45 she’d strapped to her body.

      Fifteen minutes later, she wheeled her small rental car into the parking lot of the station. She strode through the squad room toward the detectives’ area and knocked on the lieutenant’s door.

      “C’mon in.”

      She poked her head into his office. “Good morning, Charlie. Do you have the reports?”

      “All ready to go.” He tapped some file folders on his desk. “So the Bureau’s sending one of your brethren out here to help you.”

      “Really?” She sealed her lips and fought the warmth that crept into her cheeks. Too late.

      Fitch raised his brows. “You didn’t know?”

      No, because the Western Bureau Chief didn’t believe female agents were competent to handle murder cases on their own.

      “Ah, never got the confirmation.” She shifted her purse from one shoulder to the other. “He’s coming today?”

      He picked up the thick file folders and waved them in the air. “Yep. Told him you’d be here this morning and I’d have the reports ready for the two of you.”

      “Yeah, great. Looks like we’ll be putting together a task force on this case, or at least a task force of two.”

      “Swell.” He dropped the file folders on his blotter.

      And just like that, Greavy had probably wrecked the tentative rapport she’d established with Fitch.

      Leaning over his desk, she scooped up the reports. “If you have someplace for me to sit, I’ll get out of your way and wait for the other agent.”

      “To your right, three doors down there’s an empty office. You’re welcome to use it until your partner in crime fighting shows up.”

      “Thanks, Charlie. Coffee?”

      “No, thanks.”

      Pursing her lips, she glared at the bald spot on his head as he bent over his desk. “I meant for me.”

      Without an ounce of embarrassment, he aimed a stubby finger toward the door. “Back in the squad room.”

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