“Hayes, Donovan, my office. Now.”
“Let the games begin.” Andi was so far past caring, he wasn’t even sure if he could keep his composure to let George handle everything. His partner shot him a warning glare, the sudden spike in adrenaline not lost on Andi. With a sigh, he placed his hand on George’s lower back for a moment, silently promising he would behave. Anything to have George’s pheromones back to something pleasant and relaxed. The change was almost instant, his partner giving him a small smile.
“I will make this right for us, Andi. I will.” George spoke softly so nobody but Andi could hear him.
He nodded. “I trust you.”
The effect those words had was staggering. A determined gleam entered George’s eyes, and the muscles in his back straightened. He was ready for battle.
They entered the office with Gelman still hot on their heels. The chief’s eyes narrowed, but there wasn’t much she could do, not after she had officially complained about Andi and George. As far as she knew, Luke was at the precinct to assess their work before she could get rid of them. Antagonizing him would be a stupid move. Watching her chew on Gelman’s presence was the only satisfaction Andi could get from the situation.
“Detectives, I’m officially handing the serial killer case to you. I’m sure you’ll be able to solve it with no problems whatsoever. Make the precinct proud. You may select up to four other detectives or beat officers to assist you. Should you need more, we’ll have to discuss it. I don’t think I have to remind you not to talk to the press. They haven’t found out yet, but we all know that’s just a matter of time.” The sarcasm in the chief’s tone was hard to miss. Andi sensed her agitation, the adrenaline coursing through her veins, the stench of her sweat because she was in fight mode. He knew people weren’t receptive to anything in that state, their learning abilities crippled by the body’s need to survive a situation it perceived as dangerous. That the chief saw them as a threat by now, one she had to deal with by using underhanded methods such as pulling them out of a much-needed vacation, made Andi wary of the future. He knew they would somehow get through this case, because they hadn’t much of a choice except quitting, which would be a last-resort thing. What they needed to do after the case was—hopefully—solved, was to get rid of the chief.
“We’re going to do our best, and thank you for your unwavering support.” George had his official mask number six on—no emotions detectable, his disapproval oozing from every syllable while his entire body language radiated indifference. Andi liked to compare this mask with a crab spider disguising as a flower and waiting for the prey to come close enough for the attack.
“I hope so.” The chief pretended to look at some papers on her desk, playing a game of power that failed to intimidate George because he was made of sterner stuff and was completely wasted on Andi because he didn’t care about hierarchies at all. “I already contacted the FBI. For the time being, they’re sending an agent, Geena Davis, a former master sergeant in the military, to work with you. Since she has previous ties to the military, she’ll also report back to them, which means one person less trudging around in my precinct. I’m sure you’re going to welcome her with open arms.” The glee with which Norris delivered that news was enough to make Andi wish he could strangle her right on her desk. George stayed outwardly calm, but his cortisol, glucagon, and prolactin levels were flaring like a microphone’s sound curves during the drum solo at a metal concert. It agitated the silverfish and spiders in the room, which in turn affected Andi. He shuffled a bit closer to George, silently reassuring him. Working with somebody from a different governmental branch was far from ideal, but they would manage. Either that Davis woman would be of help, or Andi would scare her off with being, well, himself. Easy peasy.
“Oh, we will, Chief. With a case as big as this one, all help is more than welcome.” Ah, social mask number seven, basically the same as number six, but with added veiled hostility, packed in polite conversation. The way the chief’s eyes narrowed, George had hit the mark. Before she could say anything else, George turned toward the door, still half shielding Andi with his body. “Since it’s so early in the case, we’d like to get everything set up. Please do excuse us.”
They were out the door without giving the chief a chance to react. Back at their desks, Gelman still with them, George brought their whiteboards into position.
“I’m not sure there’s enough room on them.”
“We can get another one. I think there’s one in storage.” Andi sent his senses out without even thinking about it. “Second floor. Pretty dusty. I don’t think anybody will miss it.”
“Why don’t Luke and I get it while you take a look at the files Evangeline and Shireen have sent? Then we can start brainstorming.”
Andi knew George was giving him a chance to take a breather, short as it would be, and was grateful for it. He smiled at his partner. “Great idea, George.”
They left to retrieve the whiteboard, and Andi switched his PC on. With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes while he waited for it to boot up. This case was going to be a nightmare.
6. New partner, new luck
FBI AGENTGeena Davis—no relation to the actress either in blood or looks—arrived the next morning shortly after Andi and George had discussed possible members of their task force, deciding to take in Detectives Sandra Mescew and Tobias Gentry, whose love for detail and ability to follow even the sparsest leads to the bitter end they would definitely need in a case this big. Also, Sandra was an excellent shot, and having her at their back was a reassuring thought. They hadn’t decided yet which beat officers they might ask for help and had shelved this decision until they actually needed them for legwork or other seemingly menial, though nevertheless crucial, tasks that inevitably came up when so many corpses were involved. As no names had immediately come to mind, they would simply choose whoever was available at the moment. It really was a good thing that none of the beat officers at the precinct had a bad reputation. Currently, Andi and George were staring at the whiteboard. The team at the bunker had now found all twenty-six victims, including four more dog tags from military personnel. They were Private Second Class Geoffrey Elstair from the Navy, Corporal Samuel Grand from the Army Rangers, Corporal Hamed Beshara from the Marines, and Staff Sergeant Kesha Raport from the Air Force, which in theory meant four more investigative agencies could get involved. A prospect George was not looking forward to, though he hoped the fact that Geena was ex-military really meant they would only have to deal with her. The unofficial files Shireen had gotten said all four veterans had suffered from PTSD, just like Marco Flores, and had been living on the streets, with the exception of Kesha Raport, who had been treated in House Cusabo, a mental health facility in Cottageville, Colleton County, some four years ago before she went missing. There was even a missing person entry for her issued by House Cusabo, because like the other four, she didn’t have any living relatives, or at least none who had been interested in her whereabouts. As Shireen had already mentioned—and George agreed with her—the same would be true for most of the other victims as well, which made the case both sadder and a lot more difficult. Their killer was obviously smart enough to prey on the weak and forgotten, which meant he was organized. George glanced at Andi, who was staring at the screen of his PC, studying the files Shireen had sent them. The first whiteboard was already filling up, almost as fast as his partner was slipping under. The dark circles under Andi’s eyes had gotten even deeper overnight, a sure sign he had been busy strengthening his shields. His hair was a tousled mess, and he was wearing the same clothes as the day before. George would have to make sure Andi got a decent dinner this evening, and he would probably also spend the night at Andi’s place to get him into fresh clothes.
His thoughts were interrupted by Chief Norris, who marched in their direction with another woman in tow. When Norris arrived, she stopped so abruptly, the other woman, who George suspected was the agent they would be working with, almost ran into her.
“Good morning, Donovan, Hayes.” Norris’s tone was clipped, all business. She was probably trying to make a stern impression on the agent, who had stepped next to her, eyeing George and Andi openly. The woman brimmed with energy that was barely contained by her five-foot-nine frame. She wore her dark hair short, the silver streaks in it more prominent because of it. Her outfit—blue jeans, heavy biker boots, a green T-shirt, and a tailored jacket in black—was sensible, accentuating her stocky frame with the solid muscles only somebody who worked out regularly gained, her eyes a piercing gray over her round nose. Her FBI badge was clipped unobtrusively to her belt at her left side, barely visible under the open jacket.
“May I introduce Special Agent Geena Davis to you, who will, as I already told you, act as your liaison to the Army and temporary partner.”
Chief Norris turned to Agent Davis. “These are Detectives George Donovan and Andrew Hayes, this precinct’s best men. I’m sure you will be able to solve this dreadful case together. If you’ll excuse me now.” She left quickly, not giving Davis or George a chance to get a word in. The FBI agent smirked, which made the laugh lines around her eyes and mouth dance.
“What a charming host your chief is.” She held out her hand to George, who took it, winking at her.
“It’s one of her better days, actually. She escorted you here instead of just bellowing out directions.”
“I feel so honored. And please call me Geena. The way I see it, this case is one huge clusterfuck with the potential to turn into a fucking disaster. No need to be formal.”
George grinned. He felt he could like this woman. “Thank you, Geena. I’m George, and this is Andi.” He gestured to his partner, who had actually gotten up.
Geena took Andi’s hand. “It’s my pleasure. No offense to you, George, but I’ve seen Andi’s solving statistics.” She winked in George’s direction.
“Pft. Am I chopped liver?”
Andi was chuckling, his hand still held by Geena, who pretended to think about it.
“Not chopped liver. More like the Watson to his Sherlock?”
