At Close Range. Jessica Andersen
lip at Cassie, who was sitting alone at the far edge of the room, over near the wall. “Too bad they lost it.”
Cassie shot to her feet and snarled at Piedmont. “We didn’t lose the skull. The kidnapper blew it up along with my lab. And let’s not forget that it was your sloppy security that let the guy into the police department in the first place.”
The Bear Claw cops grumbled, but she had a point. The forensics lab was located in the basement of the P.D. Nobody should have been able to walk in past the front desk and make it to the stairs without authorization.
Nobody but a cop, Seth had thought at the time, but none of the other evidence backed up that possibility.
At least none that they’d found.
Chief Parry stepped in before the grumbles could degenerate. He raised his hands. “Okay, here’s how it’s going to work. I’m breaking the task force up into three teams. Team one is going to investigate the canyon skeleton. Use the ME’s notes and whatever forensics can tell you and go from there. Team two is going to work the new murder. Team three, composed of the forensics department and Special Agent Varitek, will act in a support capacity for the other teams.”
The chief read off the names on teams one and two, but before he could dismiss the task force, Seth stood, knowing there was one thing left to say, knowing it wouldn’t make him popular. “Chief? May I have a moment?”
Parry acknowledged him. “Of course.”
Seth cleared his throat. “We need to consider one more aspect of this—the safety of our officers, particularly the women.” Saying it aloud brought the dark memories closer. “I’m not trying to be sexist here—” well, maybe he was, but he had a damn good reason for it “—but don’t forget what happened during the kidnappings. Croft focused his attentions on Alissa Wyatt and nearly killed her. If this is connected, then the pattern could repeat.”
Cassie frowned and spoke up. “If it’s connected, then he’s already broken pattern. All the other victims, including the skeleton, were women under twenty. The murder victim was a man in his mid-twenties.”
Seth countered, “The bomb squad didn’t find any charges under your truck, but the brake lines were severed and reconnected with a thermolabile polymer.” Anger flared in his chest at the thought, and at the fact that she didn’t seem nearly worried enough. The lines would’ve given out with heat and use—like once she was on the highway, or maybe one of the mountain roads. “Face it. You’re already a target.”
She lifted her chin and stared him down. “Don’t try to protect me. I can take care of myself.”
The words echoed through memory to another woman, another time. Seth growled, stepped around the podium and—
“Thank you, Special Agent Varitek.” The chief got between them and diverted Seth to his chair with a warning look. “Based on that evidence, I think we need to assume that the female officers are at higher risk, and Officer Dumont in particular.” He scanned the room and made two partner changes, breaking up a pair of male detectives and a pair of female detectives and switching them. “That leaves everyone protected except Officer Dumont.” The chief looked at Seth. “You’ll keep an eye on her?”
“Yeah,” Seth said, though he wished there was another option. “I’ll watch her back.”
At that, Cassie shot to her feet and stalked from the room, shoulders tight, body language just this side of aggressive.
The door slammed behind her.
CASSIE POUNDED DOWN to the basement crime lab, nearly vibrating with fury.
Maybe she should be used to being underestimated by now, but it still stung. How long would she have to fight the fragile female stereotype? How many heads did she have to bite off, how many testosterone-laden men was she going to have to chase away from her territory before they’d believe that she was smart enough, tough enough and street-savvy enough to do the job she’d been hired to do?
In all honesty, Varitek probably wasn’t trying to be a jerk. There was some logic to his words. It had been a tense, ugly situation when Croft had targeted Alissa. But she wasn’t Alissa, and this wasn’t the same situation. Cassie couldn’t afford to be coddled, and she’d be damned if he shoved her to the side of another investigation.
She glared around the lab, part of her wishing for someone to fight with, part of her glad to be alone in the one space that made her feel truly welcome. The banks of machines didn’t care what she looked like or whether she peed sitting down. They answered the questions she asked, using the information she gave them. She could load in two DNA samples and be confident that the next morning, the fluorescent peaks and valleys on the computer printout would tell her whether she had a match or not. Whether she had a mixed sample or not.
The evidence didn’t care who she was.
She let her fingertips drift over the stereomicroscope she used to examine fiber, hair and dirt samples. She glanced at the logged evidence from the apartment murder scene, the jacket and hat from the bastard who’d rigged her truck. But though she was tempted to dive in, she knew better.
She was too ticked off to work effectively, too distracted. Her thoughts were jammed with Seth Varitek. She was all tangled up with the sound of his deep, masculine voice, and the feel of being pressed up against the wall of a crummy apartment building. He’d invaded her senses until she swore she could taste him on her lips, which was impossible.
Cursing, she strode out of the lab and into her small office, where she threw herself into her desk chair and slapped her computer mouse to wake the machine from its screen saver.
Then she stared blankly at the glowing icons.
“Stop taking this so personally,” she said aloud, hoping the words would help put the scene upstairs into perspective. “He wasn’t saying you couldn’t take care of yourself. He was just saying to watch out.”
Only he’d said more than that. He’d agreed to “watch her back,” which she translated as “keep her in the lab while I work the field.” He was an excellent evidence tech, but so was she. And she was the one who’d be staying in Bear Claw once this was over. She was the one who lost status in her coworkers’ eyes every time she let the FBI take over a crime scene.
She lost. Not him.
So, yeah, it was personal. Maybe not to him, but it sure as hell was to her. With Alissa and Maya out of town, it was up to her to defend the value of the new forensics department. It was up to her to make herself indispensable to the BCCPD, so the other cops would finally realize that she was worth something to the department.
That she was worth something at all.
Lee’s voice whispered around the edges of her mind, telling her it wasn’t enough, that it would never be enough. Gritting her teeth against a press of anger, she clicked over to her favorite Web search engine. She typed two words into the query box.
Seth Varitek.
If this was going to be a battle for control of the Bear Claw Forensics Department, it made sense for her to know her enemy, to know his weak spots, if there were any. And though public records might not give her the insight she needed, the Web was a good place to start. She didn’t need to be a full detective to know that.
She avoided his public profile on the FBI field office Web site. She’d checked it out a few weeks after he’d left Bear Claw, just out of curiosity, and had been unsettled by the hot rush that had punched through her when she’d seen his official photo. In the picture, his dark hair was buzzed close to his skull and his pale green eyes seemed to stare directly at her. It was by no means a glamor shot, it was too rugged for that, too fierce. But it had encapsulated what she remembered of the man, and it had left her far warmer than she’d liked.
“So we’ll skip that site,” she muttered to herself. “We’ll stipulate that he’s relatively hot and move on to the important stuff—figuring out what makes him tick.”