Laurel winced. “Probably because smart girls think they can heal bad boys.” At least that’s what she’d learned by observing young adults in college when she’d just been thirteen. By the lifting of the doctor’s bushy eyebrows, his question had been rhetorical. “I think the best strategy would be to speak with both kids.”
“I was thinking that maybe, I mean with your connections, that you could perhaps conduct a background search? The FBI can get into anybody’s records, even a juvenile’s, right?” Dr. Ortega set his file atop the others and carefully patted it into place, not looking at her.
She waited until he did meet her gaze. “That would take a warrant, and we don’t have grounds for a warrant.” Surely the doctor wasn’t asking her to break the law or circumvent the judicial process. The man appeared to be ethical and accomplished at his job, but it was possible his concern for family was clouding his judgment. She could sympathize but wasn’t going to break procedure.
He flushed more deeply. “You’re right. Of course, you’re correct.” Standing, he gestured toward the door. “I hope we can forget this entire conversation.”
Laurel stood and scooted around the chair toward the exit. “I don’t forget anything, Dr. Ortega. But I will keep this confidential, if that’s what you meant.” She opened the door and walked out into the quiet hallway with its perfectly mopped tiles. “Thank you for the expedient results on the autopsy.”
He followed her. “Do you think this is a serial? I mean, with the symbolism of the black dahlias and such?”
“I don’t know yet.” But the ache in her solar plexus was one of instinct and experience, and everything inside her knew they had to find this killer and fast. She wouldn’t confirm the truth out loud, but even statistics told her that this was only the beginning, and he’d strike again.
Probably soon.
* * *
Back at her office, Laurel shed her coat and snowy outerwear before trudging past Kate, who was arguing with somebody on the phone about what sounded like more office equipment. She walked down the center aisle, stopping as a young man emerged from the makeshift computer room. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He held out a hand. “I’m Agent Nester Lewis. You must be Special Agent in Charge Laurel Snow.” His shake was brief and professional.
“Laurel. Please.” She studied him. He had to be around twenty-four, not much younger than she. He stood to about five nine or ten with a bald head, light brown eyes, an engaging smile, and russet-colored skin. For his first day on the job, he’d dressed in gray slacks, a cream-colored shirt, and a green silk tie. Then she looked beyond him to the room. “You managed to bring new computer equipment.” Although it was still perched on old doors set on cinder blocks.
“Yeah. I’m trying to order a desk or two, and I could use a couple more monitors. But I probably can’t requisition more equipment until we know if this unit will be based here or in Seattle.” He rubbed his bald head. “I have the entire system up and ready to go, however. Anything you need.”
She handed him the case file. “The victim’s name is Dr. Charlene Rox, and I need to know everything there is about her.”
His eyes gleamed. “No problem.”
“I also need your personnel file.” She turned back toward her office.
“It’s already on your desk,” he called back, disappearing into the computer room.
She already liked the young agent. Almost reaching her office, she paused as the door to Kate’s reception area opened. Turning, she watched Walter Smudgeon wipe sweat off his brow and lumber toward her, his face ruddy and his belly hanging over his belt. “Hi, Walter.”
“Hi.” He coughed several times. “The local sheriff called and wanted an update, so I popped by his office after lunch. Even though the locals don’t have jurisdiction on this one, I thought we should play nice and at least attempt to keep him in the loop. He’s still an ass.”
That situation wasn’t likely to change. “Are you feeling all right?” She didn’t like the hue of his skin.
“Yeah. Just fighting something.” Reaching the computer room, he waved at Nester and then kept walking toward her. “Do we have an ID on the victim?”
“Yes,” Laurel said. Apparently the two men had met earlier. Good. “Nester has the file. Walter, please go ahead and start preparing a warrant to search her home, vehicles, and office once we have locations. I’ll sign the affidavit once you’ve prepared it.”
He nodded. “Now that we have an ID, I’ll also call the sheriff and see if he has any records regarding the victim.” He hitched away, his breath labored.
Laurel moved into her office and sat behind her desk, rapidly working through paperwork she’d been avoiding.
Around five, Nester approached her office, a pile of papers in his hands. “Boss? I have the research you wanted as well as the affidavit for you to sign.”
She looked up from taking notes on an unrelated case DC had asked her to review and gestured him inside to one of the new chairs. “Come on in. What did you find?”
Nester sat and handed over the papers. “Dr. Rox lived east of Genesis Valley in a high-end condominium development and commuted to her practice in Seattle.”
“Did anybody report her missing?”
“No. I called her office, and the answering machine said that she had gone on sabbatical and wouldn’t be back for a couple of months. She gave the names and numbers of colleagues that her patients could contact for assistance.” Nester’s eyes gleamed. “She’s been married three times, and all three ex-husbands live in the state. I’ve found them in Seattle, Tacoma, and over in Spokane by the border.” He gestured toward the papers. “All information about them has been printed out.”
Laurel glanced at the stack. “Did you discover any hint of violence in her life or any protection orders taken out by her?”
