‘Thank you, sir, but we still have a lot of work to do.’
‘Oh, of course,’ said Croll. ‘But, you’ll get it done. Get with these other departments. Alton’s a good guy, and the other fella, Chief Dormer, or whatever his name is, seems all right. Put together a report and let’s move on. There’ll be gun control fanatics and hordes of media people trying to wring every story out of every poor soul that lives within ten miles of here. The quicker something like this is put behind us, the sooner the town will heal. So, give it a few days, and get back to Tallahassee.’ He grasped Thiery’s arm like a father making a point to his teenage son. ‘You know, Jim, er, uh, the Commissioner is going to retire in less than a month, and I’d like to have his successor in place before he leaves, so he can mentor him. How’d you like Jim to give you his best on the way out the door?’
Thiery shook his head. ‘I can’t even think about that right now, Governor.’
Croll gave him the gecko look, again, and said, ‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Mister Thiery.’
‘I’m not trying to be disrespectful, sir, but I see this investigation lasting weeks, maybe months, as we put together a prosecutable case.’
Croll scrunched up his face. ‘Investigation? What’s to investigate? We know who the shooters are. Not much in the grey area there, would you say, Agent Thiery?’
They walked in silence for a moment as they made their way toward the governor’s limousine, Thiery’s blood pressure rising with each step. Then Croll broke the uncomfortable void.
‘Do you know Brian Ahearn, the Fire Chief, up in Tallahassee?’ he asked.
Thiery shook his head. ‘No, sir. Can’t say we’ve met.’
‘You should meet him some time. Smart guy. We go golfing every Thursday afternoon; he has a great swing. He’s a man looking to move up, maybe take an appointment somewhere. I bet you’d hate to have a former firefighter take over that commissioner job.’
Thiery listened to the threat but he did not respond.
‘Anyway, you know what he told me? He told me about when he used to be out in the streets, when he went to a multi-car accident, a ten-car pile-up say, on the interstate, or wherever. He said the worst thing he and his men could do was stay on the scene too long. The best thing to do was to clear the scene as quickly as possible. He told me the longer they were there, the more dangerous the scene could get with traffic backing up and such, and once the initial patient care was taken care of, if they didn’t get off scene quickly, more and more motorists would come up and say they were hurt. It was as if these people would convince themselves that they must be hurt, too, if they were just near such an accident. Most of them were opportunists looking to get their name on an accident report so they could sue somebody. People want to blame somebody for something, then lawyer up and make money off it.’
They were at the limo now, the governor’s driver holding the back door open for him. Thiery didn’t know quite what to make of the governor’s soliloquy, but he refused to play into his hands. He pulled back his jacket sleeve and looked at his watch. Almost ten o’clock. He felt his neck stiffen from fatigue and not a little bit of anger. This governor is an asshole, he reminded himself. Just let it be.
‘By the way, Agent Thiery, I talked to the President today. He’s going to come down here, talk to the families of the deceased. He’s fascinated with this woman; the teacher who shot the intruders. He’s going to want to talk to her, in particular. Better get to her quickly, before she lawyers up, too.’
‘I’m doing my job, sir,’ said Thiery, dryly.
‘Good,’ said Croll, regaining his shit-eating grin. ‘Keep it moving. Let’s clear the scene, capiche?’
Thiery was looking around for his innocuous sedan when he saw Sara Logan standing among the parked cars, watching him, tapping her lower lip with her cell phone. He hadn’t seen her in three years. She looked the same. Blonde, short-cropped, spiky hair, green eyes that slanted up at the corners, a nose that looked fragile, mocha skin. She had a scar on her chin from running through a glass door when she was a teenager. She’d been banging the neighbour’s son when her father came looking for her. She ran through the glass like Bruce Willis in an action film. Still, the scar didn’t detract from her exotic looks. Gorgeous, but the word carnivorous came to Thiery’s mind. His stomach filled with crawling things and he drew in a breath.
He’d weaned himself off her after she’d dumped him, let her come back to his bed from time to time, until it was more painful to see her than get laid, then swore off her. She took it with a shrug of her shoulders. She’d made it clear she wasn’t looking for a relationship. She was looking for a hard, sweaty lay, and that’s what she used Thiery for. She and her much older husband, a contractor who built bridges, had made the choice not to have children. He had grown-up kids from a previous marriage. He wanted to travel, eat out every night, and have an attractive young lady on his arm. She could fulfil that obligation and still maintain her career, which she loved because it validated her professionalism and allowed her certain freedoms.
Thiery had just been a glorified dildo for her.
‘Hi, Sara,’ said Thiery, trying to find his voice.
She used that smile that was warm, welcoming, and as disingenuous as a Coach purse sold on the streets of Bangladesh. She stepped closer, placing her hand on his shoulder and pushed herself against his chest. A light kiss on his cheek – very, very near his mouth – then she pulled away, leaving a cloud of musky scent that made him want to throw her in the back seat of the nearest car.
He hated himself for that.
‘Hi, Justin,’ she said, completely aware of what she did to him, to most men. ‘Bad day, huh?’
He cleared his throat, attempting to regain some semblance of professionalism. She was looking him over again, assessing him.
‘What’s your role here, exactly?’ he asked.
She let her eyes roam over him without hurry, or embarrassment. Her pupils were dilated. ‘Whatever you need,’ she said, the double entendre dripping off her words. That smile again. ‘I’m here for federal presence in case there’s something beyond what it looks like.’
‘Well,’ said Thiery, ‘on the surface, it seems like most school shootings. One of the perps used to attend the school years ago. Not sure about the other one, yet. I don’t see anything that would lead me to believe this was a terrorist act, domestic or foreign. I heard the explosives they found were just pipe bombs and homemade crap.’
‘So were the pressure cooker bombs in Boston.’
‘Understood. I just don’t think you’ll find much that demands you or your department’s time.’
Logan shrugged. ‘So, I hang out and assist as needed. Maybe liaison with ATF, take one monkey off your back. Okay? I’m not trying to interfere.’
Thiery knew this to be true. She might be a horny woman with a questionable moral compass, but she was a damn good investigator, too. She was insightful, and she had helped him on several huge and legally tricky cases in the past.
‘One of the teachers reportedly shot the intruders,’ Thiery continued. ‘Her name is Erica Weisz. Maybe you could look into why she had a gun in a public school. Did she have a permit to carry and, if so, why? I’ll let you know if I need anything else,’ he ended, knowing full well how she would interpret those words.
‘Where are you staying?’ she asked, lowering her chin but raising those cat eyes back up at him.
He hesitated before telling her but figured she probably knew already. She’d once told him that she’d looked up his credit rating, knew which Internet sites he visited most often, and what grades his kids made in school. She was a Fed, so what was alarming