The Summer Children (The Collector #3)(45)

I look away, watching from the corner of my eye as she straightens it with shaking hands. She has the look of someone losing weight, an underlying pallor and skin sagging slightly in unexpected places. It could explain her feeling cold even in this heat. “Can I get you some water?” I ask neutrally.

“Like water’s going to help,” she wheezes, but she does move back to her desk to pick up a tumbler. The name tag on the divider says she’s Gloria Hess.

My phone buzzes with another text from Sterling. Simpkins is sending a pair of agents to the hospital after lunch. Eddison and I are eating with them, so we can tell them what we observed about the kids.

Okay, come on, Cass. We’ve got to go.

After a few minutes of silence and Miss Gloria glaring at me from across the room, Caroline and Cass return. Cass comes to my side, and I hold the phone out so she can see the message. This one doesn’t take a great deal of familiarity to decode, and she nods quickly.

Crossing to her desk, Caroline smiles at her coworker. “Gloria, this is Agent Kearney. She’s working on the case with those poor kids.”

Gloria arches a carefully drawn eyebrow. “Can you think of a case in this office that doesn’t include ‘those poor kids’?” At Caroline’s blush and stammer, she turns to Cass. “Are you able to tell us which case?”

Cass glances at me, and I shrug. The incidents have hit the news, even if the details and their connections have been withheld, and confidentiality aside, an office is an office; people gossip. “The Wilkins, Carter-Wong, Anders, and Jeffers murders.”

Both women look startled at the length of the list, and Caroline pales. Gloria moves up to pat her shoulder. “There was another one?” the older woman asks. At Cass’s nod, Gloria looks at me with narrowed eyes. “You’re Agent Ramirez, aren’t you? The one the children are taken to.”

Damn. “Yes,” I acknowledge, “but please don’t mention I was here. I’m not actually allowed to work the case, not when it involves me to such an extent. I’m just worried about the kids, so Agent Kearney allowed me to tag along.” I rummage up a sheepish smile. “Honestly, I was kind of hoping to run into Nancy, maybe get an update.”

“She’s doing visits all day today,” Caroline informs me. “But I can leave a message?”

“Oh, no, I don’t want to get her in trouble,” I say quickly. “I’m supposed to be hands off, but these kids . . .”

To my surprise, Gloria seems to thaw a bit at that. “We’ll let her know you called, unofficially. If there’s been a change, I’m sure she can find a way to let you know.”

“I’d appreciate that, thank you.”

She nods slowly, thoughtfully, like I’ve given her something new to consider.

“Agent Kearney!” A man hurries out from the admin hallway, holding a neon green Post-it in his hand. It nearly matches the polish on his fingernails. He’s a slender man of average height, with a soft voice. “When you get that warrant signed, this is my direct line,” he tells her in a faded Charleston accent. It’s the only city I know where rushed and clipped Southern is a thing that happens. “Give me a call and we’ll get right to work on that list for you.”

Cass murmurs a thank-you and tucks the note into her credentials. “Mr. Lee, this is Agent Mercedes Ramirez. Mercedes, this is Derrick Lee, the file administrator.”

He takes one of my hands in both of his. “Isn’t this all just awful? How are you holding up?”

At the moment, I’m a little distracted by his eyeliner game being fiercer than mine. How does he get the wings so even? “I’m okay for now, Mr. Lee, thank you. Just trying to find out how the kids are doing.”

“Nancy says they’re all being terribly brave.” He squeezes my hand and lets it go. “If you two need anything, and I mean just anything, please let us know. We all want those little angels safe, don’t we?”

“Thank you, Mr. Lee.”

Cass repeats her own thanks and a goodbye, and we head out to the car. “What’s on your brain, Mercedes?” she murmurs as we’re buckling in.

“When the warrant clears, see if the filing clerks are listed on the files they work the way the nurses and social workers are.”

“Which name should I look for?”

“Gloria Hess.”

“Any particular reason? If charming personalities were conclusive factors, after all, Eddison would have been jailed years ago.”

“Blonde wig and a port in her chest; she’s got cancer. You spend your life face-to-face with the best and worst the system has to offer, what’s a thing you want to do once you have nothing left to lose?”

Cass blinks.

“Also Derrick Lee,” I add. “We haven’t definitely ruled out that the killer could be male. Put a wig and loose clothes on Lee, he could easily be mistaken for a woman. So we should check him out as well.”

Cass stares at me for a moment, then lowers her forehead to the steering wheel and swears emphatically.



17

We speed to the hospital, because there’s really no telling how long Sterling and Eddison can stall Cass’s teammates. I mean, I have a healthy respect for their ability to bullshit and inconvenience—Sterling once managed to make a person of interest not only miss his flight, but willingly leave the airport to give her a ride back to the precinct, it was gorgeous—but Dru Simpkins keeps a pretty tight rein on her team. If she tells them to leave NOW, it won’t matter if they don’t have all the information.