The Darkness of Evil (Karen Vail #7)(10)

“There’s not enough to go on.”

“Right. If I was a betting man, however, I’d say he wrote it.”

“Are you a betting man?”

“Nope. But that’s irrelevant.”

“I think I’m more confused than before I called you.”

“Let me translate for the lower IQ agents I’m forced to work with: I believe it to be a match, but my report’s gonna say inconclusive because to say otherwise would be asking for a sharp defense attorney to tear me a new * in court. Does that clear it up?”

“Now let me translate: you think it was written by Marcks but you’re not gonna stick your neck out because you’re covering your large buttocks.”

“Now there’s a language we can both understand.” He paused a second, then said, “You think I’ve got a big rear end?”

Vail hung up and called Potter Correctional. Ten minutes later she had confirmation that a letter had been sent three days ago from Roscoe Lee Marcks. It contained a torn-out magazine advertisement and a blank piece of paper. They knew Marcks had a daughter, so they figured he was sending her a picture of a stuffed animal. Since it contained nothing overtly dangerous, they let the parcel pass.

Indented writing was covert, not overt, so she could not fault them for letting it through.

As Vail approached Jasmine’s house, she received a text message from Stacey DiCarlo. She glanced at her Samsung Galaxy while driving and decided not to reply, mimicking those annoying announcements she saw in the movie theater: “It can wait.” And when it came to her unit chief, she was more than happy to do just that.

Jasmine looked surprised to see Vail so soon. She had changed into workout attire—but she appeared to be nervous, as if she had spent the day stressing over the letter she received from her father.

“So there was something written on that paper,” Vail said.

Jasmine studied her face a moment. “Come in.”

Vail followed her into the kitchen again and they sat down. “Can I get you something?”

“I’m fine.” Truth was, she was starving—but she did not plan on staying long.

“And what did it say?”

“It went with the picture of the stuffed animal. It read, ‘Remember what happened to Sparky?’”

Jasmine banded her arms across her chest and shivered slightly.

“Obviously, it was a threat. But we have to keep it in perspective. He’s in a maximum-security facility. He’s never getting out.”

“So you don’t think I’m in any danger.”

Vail hesitated. “I think we have to be smart about this. You should file a police report so that we can get the Fairfax County PD involved.”

“Why?” Jasmine said. “It’ll just mean endless questioning and a whole to-do over nothing. It is nothing, right?”

Vail averted her eyes. “I honestly don’t know. But it’s better to be safe than sorry. If your father has friends or if someone on the outside owes him for something, you could be in danger.”

“Did you meet with him?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“And …” Shit, do I tell her what he said? “For the most part he had normal reactions to my questions. He gave the impression he would never hurt you because you’re his flesh and blood. …”

“But you didn’t believe him.”

“He’s a violent criminal skilled in manipulation. No, I didn’t believe him. He’s telling me what he’s supposed to say. And he did say I should tell you to be careful.”

Jasmine clenched her jaw and nodded slowly. “I still don’t want to report it. Just do whatever needs to be done.”

“Jasmine, I’m … getting way outside the scope of my job. My unit chief’s on my case. No pun intended. She—” Before Vail could finish the sentence her Samsung buzzed again. She held it up and said, “That’s her. She wants me back at the office. She’s concerned that I’m hand-holding you.”

Jasmine stood up from the chair. “Okay. I’m sorry. I know, you’re not a detective.”

Not anymore. But sometimes I can’t resist playing one. “Know anyone who was friends with your dad the police can look at, anyone who might be willing to do things, favors, for him while he’s inside?”

Jasmine glanced around the kitchen, her eyes moving from one wall to the next but seeing nothing. “He didn’t have many friends from what I can remember. A few, I guess, that he went drinking with. But there could be others I never met. One guy who’s really scummy has probably had contact with my father. I saw him a few months ago at the market.”

“You talked to him?”

“I caught him staring at me from the back of the store. Creeped me out. I turned and went back the other way and got the hell out of the place.”

“Remember their names?”

“Vincent Stuckey and Scott MacFarlane. Those were his friends. At least the ones I knew. Booker Gaines, he’s the creep I saw in the store.”

“Gaines could be the guy to watch out for. He may’ve been keeping tabs on you when you saw him. It might not have been a chance meeting.”

“You mean he may’ve been following me? For my father?”