The Darkness of Evil (Karen Vail #7)(67)

A patrol car rolled by slowly outside. Marcks nonchalantly turned away from the large windows. Several people were in the café, all doing their own thing, tapping at their keyboards or reading the monitors. Oblivious to the police outside. Oblivious to him inside.

Marcks returned to his task and found a Post article dated yesterday. His gaze moved across the page so fast he realized he was not absorbing the impact of the information. He slowed down and took a deep breath. There was a US Marshals fugitive task force working his case. They had interviewed officials at Potter. And dammit—they had found William’s dismembered body and were attributing the murder, and subsequent defiling of the corpse, to him.

His eyes zeroed in on one name: Karen Vail. The thorn in his side, the one apparently as responsible for his incarceration as his goddamn daughter, was noted by an FBI spokesperson to be a key member of the task force who had thus far made invaluable contributions.

Marcks clenched his jaw. He should’ve strangled her in the interview room when he had the chance.

He shut the browser and paid for his time … time more than well spent.





33


Marcks drove into the Aquia Commerce Center parking lot, surprised there was no security presence of any kind. Not even a guard booth.

He had stopped at a crafts store in Alexandria and purchased a pair of fake eyeglasses, which would look less suspicious than shades. While they cut down on glare, few people wore them on a dark, overcast winter day. His first goal was to not get caught, and his second was to avoid anything that would make him stand out in any way—which directly impacted goal number one.

Marcks chose a parking spot that gave him a view of the front entrance of the building on the left. Its counterpart on the right could easily have been the one in which Vail worked, but he had to start somewhere. If he was lucky, no matter which one she entered, he would still be able to see her.

One of his fellow inmates, a more recent addition to Potter, told him about the security cameras that a lot of businesses and government institutions had begun installing in and around their buildings. Because he had seen them at Potter, Marcks knew what to look for.

He checked when he entered the lot but only saw a few devices closer to the facility, far enough away from where he was parked that he doubted they could see him. They were a little different and did not exactly look like cameras, but they had a round bulbous covering that was conspicuously out of place and did not seem to perform any other function. He decided to play it safe and assumed they were the surveillance devices his colleague had warned him about.

Because it was winter—and in the midst of a cold spell—he figured that agents and visitors hanging out near where he was parked would not be a concern. In fact, no one lingered after leaving the buildings or the warmth of their cars. That lowered the risk that someone would stand around long enough to notice he was sitting in his vehicle for an extended period of time.

Ninety minutes passed when a blue late-model Honda pulled into the lot and parked two rows over, close to the left building’s entrance. A redhead got out—and Marcks rose to attention. He had to wait for her to turn her head a bit to get a good look.

It was Vail.

He watched as she walked briskly to the Behavioral Analysis Unit external staircase and then entered the facility.

His goal was to follow her when she returned to her car. Sooner or later she would lead him to Jasmine. Once she did that, he might have the option of killing both of them.

Now that would be quite a deal: two for one.

And if he did it right, it would not cost him a thing.





34


Vail headed to her office, where she had to drop off a report to Lenka, who planned to distribute copies to Gifford and DiCarlo. Vail could have emailed it, but she had one boss who preferred to do things the old-fashioned way and one who was not tech savvy and wanted hard copies with a “wet signature” whenever possible.

She printed off the document and signed it, checked her messages and inbox, FedEx and UPS deliveries, and left the paperwork on Lenka’s desk.

“Karen!”

Vail turned to see DiCarlo walking toward her.

“Saved me a call. Where are we on Marcks? How close are we to finding him?”

“Doing our thing. I think it’s taking longer than the Marshals Service thought. But he’s an intelligent offender and he seems to be a few steps ahead of us.”

“You’re not still spending time on Jasmine, are you?”

“Of course not. Haven’t seen her since before the officer assigned to protect her was murdered.”

DiCarlo gestured at Vail’s back. “Turn around.”

“Turn around?”

“What are you wearing?”

“A knife. Head of the Joint Terrorism Task Force gave it to me.”

“I don’t care who gave it to you. I care about you carrying it. Only your Bureau-issued Glock is authorized.”

Here we go. “Actually, Knox authorized it.”

“Director Knox?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Now why the hell would he do that?”

Take the easy way out of this, Karen. Be smart. “Probably best if you ask him yourself.” Vail backed away, down the hall. “I’ve got to get over to the command center. Lenka’s got a copy of my report.”