It was an eight-minute drive to the Lakewood headquarters, but it took Cash only five. Holmes’s Mercedes CLS glinted at her from the near-empty parking lot of CBI headquarters as she screeched in. A Model Y Tesla she didn’t recognize was parked a ways down—some other agent already in at six a.m., and she knew what that meant.
Holmes was giving away her case. She was sure of it now.
Half running, she threw open the doors of the CBI headquarters.Slowing down to a brisk walk, she threaded her way through the drab hallways to Holmes’s office. She found her there, door open, seated at her desk, with another agent standing with their back to Cash. Holmes, wearing her usual crisp black-and-white suit, stood up as Cash knocked once on the open door.
“Christ, Cash. Good morning. Everything all right?” Holmes asked.
Cash looked down at her blouse and realized she had buttoned it cockeyed in her haste. Feeling self-conscious, she smoothed down her hair and tried to ease her agitation.
“I heard about the new homicide in Eagle County…” She swallowed, took a deep breath. “I want it.”
The individual Holmes was chatting with now turned, and Cash saw George Standish, an agent with barely two years on the job. His black hair was slicked back, a hopeful smile plastered on his pasty face. He smelled of baby oil, and Cash had to stop herself from wrinkling her nose. She wasn’t a fan of his; he had always seemed to her the kind of person who brought polished apples to his teachers.
“Agent Cash.” George Standish stuck out a bony hand. “Good to see you in so early.”
Cash glanced at Standish, wondering if he was being sarcastic. She took his hand and realized it was clammy. She discreetly wiped her palm on her pants. Standish caught the movement. He shifted stiffly back toward Holmes.
“You’re in early too,” Cash said to him.
“I listen to the police band with my morning toast,” Standish said defensively. “I heard the homicide reported and figured they might, ah, ask for CBI.”
“Murder on toast. Nice,” Holmes said dryly.
Cash still hadn’t quite figured Holmes out. The new director had handled the media shit show after the Erebus disaster with surprising skill and a laconic sense of humor, while still maintaining a cool demeanor, somehow. But she was hard to read, a woman with depth.
Standish cleared his throat awkwardly and continued, “Yes, ma’am. As I was saying, I think this case would give me important experience in homicide. I’ve cleared my last cases. I’ve testified at several trials that resulted in successful convictions pursuant to my assistance of investigations. I’dlike the chance, ma’am, to be AIC.” He glanced at Cash out of the corner of his eye.
Cash watched him lace his fingers together to stop them from trembling. The guy was nervous. She had to give him credit—it took courage for a newish agent to request a case this big. She remembered not so long ago when she was in his position. But still: It wasn’t good form for him to rush in like this, trying to scoop up a case that he knew very well should be hers. Colcordhadrequested her, after all.
“Plus, respectfully,” he added, “I was here first.”
Cash tried not to roll her eyes. What a crafty little upstart. “If I could interject,” she said, “while I admire Agent Standish’s initiative, I think this case might be a little complex as astartercase.” Cash paused before deciding to play the Neander card. “I spoke with Sheriff Colcord, and he has reason to believe there’s a ritualistic aspect to this homicide that might be connected to the Neanders.”
Holmes did not look surprised to hear this. “I know the Neander investigation is of interest to you,” she said, “but as you know, the FBI is handling that case now. If it’s a Neander killing, we’ll have to turn it over to them.”
“That’s exactly my point—we don’t have nearly enough information to conclude—” George Standish began.
Cash cut him off. “Given my extensive experience both with the CBI and with the Erebus investigation, I think I’m better equipped to make that call. I have an established relationship with Sheriff Colcord. Furthermore, I was told herequestedme for this case. If things were to go south, there would be less blowback if it could be shown you placed this case in the hands of anexperiencedagent.” And she added, a little wickedly, “The press might, you know, have questions…” She let the sentence hang in the air. If this was a Neander killing, and it was shown Holmes knowingly gave the case to an agent with barely two years under his belt, it wouldn’t look good.
Holmes raised her eyebrows. “The press mighthave questions? Oh my, wouldn’t that be a shock.”
Cash colored, realizing she had gone too far. Holmes wasn’t as big of a media ass-kisser as her predecessor, McFaul, had been.
Holmes paused as if thinking. Finally, she said, “However, your other argument’s persuasive. The case is yours.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Holmes regarded her coolly. “But make sure CBI takes the lead, and not Eagle County, okay? George, I’ve got another homicide for you to work on in the meantime.”
Standish nodded stiffly. He didn’t look too happy. Cash tried not to let it bug her—she was damned if she was going to let him guilt her into not taking this case.
“And you can assist Agent Cash in digital forensics, should that be necessary.”
Standish was said to be a whiz with computers. Cash didn’t see how the murder of a crazy old coot in the wilderness would need that skill, but you never knew. “Of course,” she said, trying not to be cheered up too much by the pained smile fixed on Standish’s face. “George will be a welcome asset to the investigation, if needed,” with a slight emphasis onif.
Holmes nodded and consulted some notes. “Sheriff Colcord is en route. You’ll have to hike in. Don’t forget your sat phone, and if you see any sign of Neanders in the area,anythingat all, get out of there and call for backup. We’ll notify the FBI and get the National Guard out there if necessary. No messing around this time, got it?”
Cash nodded, biting her tongue. It had been Holmes’s predecessor’s reluctance to bring in the National Guard during the Erebus Resort disaster that had allowed the Neanders to steal explosives and blow up the labs. But Holmes knew that.
Holmes continued with a brief synopsis. “Victim is William Grooms, age seventy-five, living by himself—illegally, it seems—in the wilderness. A man named Paul Brooksfield found his body and reported it. He said something about the body having coins on the eyes, shrouded in white, wouldn’t elaborate. Romanski’s pulling together a CSI team, and the ME is also on his way.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Cash said. She nodded at Standish as she went out the door, feeling satisfied that things had gone her way but a little worried that she’d made an enemy for life. Burns, Colorado, was about a three-hour drive, and it would take another couple of hours to hike the four miles to the cabin inside the Flat Tops.
Neander territory. Cash shivered at the thought.
