The Darkness of Evil (Karen Vail #7)(6)

Vail snapped her fingers. “Now I remember. Tax department?”

“My first job out of school. I’d interned for the state and showed a knack for finding things others missed. When I graduated they hired me. My supervisor liked me so much that he promoted me in, like, nine or ten months. Two years later I got a call from the state correctional system. It really wasn’t any different from what I’d done at the tax department, but they were looking for someone with my skill set. Pay was better, hours were better, and the opportunity for advancement was pretty high.”

“When was that?”

“Seven years ago. But two years after that a friend at work told me about this position at the Bureau of Prisons. Doing basically the same thing, only they paid a lot more. That was right around the time I started writing my book. Every night after dinner, 8:00 till 10:00.”

“So instead of dating, you were writing a book.”

“Instead of just about everything.” She sat down, took a drink of coffee. “Once I got started, it was like freeing my soul from a self-imposed prison.” Jasmine set her coffee down and laughed at her own comment. “I know that sounds silly. But when I shut my laptop every night, I slept better than I’ve slept since—well, since I was a teen.”

“It didn’t bother you being around a prison, being that your father was in a correctional facility?”

“Just the opposite, actually. I had a lot of pent-up anger. I really should’ve gotten help. But the book took the edge off. And going to work every day, seeing the prison, gave me a sense of comfort, knowing that my father was locked safely away just like the criminals where I worked.”

“I can understand that.”

Jasmine took another drink. “Besides, I was in the admin offices. I didn’t have any direct contact with the inmates. Minimum-security facility—completely different animal. And it’s not like my father was anywhere close. He was in North Carolina at the time, hours away, in a max facility.”

“And now he’s doing his best to reach out and touch you, making the seventy-five miles seem like a few blocks.”

Jasmine closed her eyes. Her hand shook slightly and she quickly set the mug down. “It caught me off guard. I didn’t expect to get that letter from him. And those questions this morning were … well, now I know what I’m up against.” She laughed nervously. “I’ll be fine.”

Can you please be a little more convincing? Stop it, Karen. Shit, maybe DiCarlo was right.

“You will be fine,” Vail said as she hugged her.





4


Vail drove to the FBI lab at Quantico to consult with Tim Meadows, the senior forensic scientist who had provided her with key assistance on many cases over the years.

The lab was a modern, freestanding facility down the road from the Academy constructed a dozen years ago. By the time the FBI was ready to move in, it had outgrown the building.

She found Meadows sitting on a stool peering into a microscope. Music was blasting from an iPod paired wirelessly with a speaker. She approached from behind and tickled his back with a finger. He startled and nearly fell off the seat.

She pressed “stop” and laughed. “Sorry, you had that thing turned up so loud I didn’t think you’d hear me.”

“Thank your buddies Uzi and DeSantos for that. I still haven’t regained my hearing completely after that explosion.”

“That was, what, three years ago? Hate to tell you, Tim, but it’s not coming back.”

Meadows frowned. “When did you get your medical degree, Dr. Vail?”

She raised a hand in contrition. “You’re right. I apologize again. I just figured, three years, you know? It’s done healing. What’d your doctor say?”

“He told me my hearing loss is just that: a loss. It ain’t coming back.”

Vail looked at him.

“I’m not ready to accept it. I’m taking some kind of herbal tincture my friend stirred up.” He leaned in close. “It’s got cannabis in it. Some specially grown strain to help the auditory nerve. Said it’ll help.”

“I thought you were a man of science.”

“I’m willing to try anything.” He pressed “play” on the iPod and glanced back at her. “No, I don’t mean that literally.”

Vail pressed “stop” again. “I’m not here to visit.”

“Of course not, because that’s what a friend would do.”

“Tim, I’m hurt.”

“No you’re not.”

Vail could not help but smile. “No, I’m not. But I do miss mixing it up with you.”

“Well, get to it, Karen. I was in the middle of one of my favorite songs. Not to mention one tough case. What do you got for me?”

“Something easy.” She unfurled the letter from the envelope.

“What the hell is that, some preschooler’s scribble?”

“Try again.”

He took the paper and glanced at it. “Oh, don’t tell me you were playing forensic scientist again. You’ve gotta stop watching that CSI bullshit. You know it’s bullshit, right?”

“Why, because you can’t solve every case in fifty-nine minutes?”

“Don’t get me started.”