Velocity (Karen Vail #3)(18)

“Sir, listen to me—”

“No, you listen to me for once.”

“No sir. Just—just stop. You need to hear me out.” She took a deep breath, then felt Dixon’s hand on her shoulder. “Sir, give me a minute to explain. And if you still wanna go off on me, fine.” He was silent, so she continued. “We caught the Crush Killer last night. He was shot in the process and underwent surgery. He made it through but he’s in a coma.”

“If you think that’s an excuse—”

“During the day, I kept trying to reach Robby. But he wasn’t answering. Late last night I went to our room at the bed-and-breakfast. He wasn’t there. No sign of him at all. We’ve been looking for him since.”

“Have you alerted the local field office?”

“No. We’ve been following up leads on the Crush Killer.”

“Wait a second,” Gifford said. “Just hang on a second. You’ve lost me.”

His tone calmed, which was a good thing. Maybe he would understand. Help her out.

“I don’t get it. What’s the Crush Killer got to do with Hernandez?”

Vail closed her eyes. “Things weren’t adding up. I kept feeling we were missing something. But I didn’t know what. When we arrested him, I did the interview. He said to me, ‘There’s more to this than you know.’ And then one of the sergeants on the task force, Ray Lugo, burst into the room and shot him. A ricochet caught Lugo and killed him. During transport to the ER, he said John Mayfield, the Crush Killer, had, at some point in the past, kidnapped his wife and son. Lugo apparently cut a deal of some sort with Mayfield to keep his family safe. What kind of deal, what he was doing, we don’t know. And with Robby missing, and Mayfield saying there was more to this than we know . . . we can’t rule out the possibility his disappearance is somehow related to Mayfield.”

“And?” Gifford asked.

“We’re already running down a lead that suggests Mayfield may’ve had an accomplice. If we find this guy, we may find Robby. Or at least some info that might lead us to him.”

Gifford sighed audibly. She could see him at his desk, head bowed, free hand on his forehead, rubbing it.

“The task force is working this?” he finally asked.

“What’s left of it, yes. They’ve got the assistance of the Napa Special Investigations Bureau.”

“I’m going to call the ASAC in San Francisco. And the RA in Santa Rosa. See if we can coordinate efforts. How long has he been missing?”

“No way of knowing. My last contact with him was 8:30 yesterday morning.”

Dixon leaned closer to Vail’s free ear. “The carpet.”

“Oh,” Vail said, nodding. “The CSI here found blood on the carpet in our B&B. He’s running it—”

“Blood. You sure? Any other signs of struggle in the room?”

“It’d been cleaned by the maids before we got there. So we have no idea. The crime scene—if it was one—was probably destroyed. The CSI did a full workup, just in case.”

“Have a sample of that carpet sent here, to our lab. I want our guys looking at it, too. And we’ll need an exemplar from—”

“Done. Paul Bledsoe’s at Robby’s place getting his hair and toothbrush. You should be getting one of them soon.”

“Fine.” There was a pause, then he said, in a softer tone, “This makes what I’m about to tell you even more difficult. But I need you back here. We caught a high-profile case. I can’t talk about it on an unsecure line.”

Vail pulled the phone from her ear, her face contorting into sarcastic disbelief. Fortunately Gifford couldn’t see her—it’d most likely set him off. She brought the handset back against her head. “Sir,” she said in a measured tone. “I’m sure you can understand that I’ve got my mind on finding Robby. I can’t just leave here. Assign the case to someone else.”

“What I understand is that I still have the behavioral analysis units to run and that’s my priority. What I understand is that you’re in a tough way right now. And I also understand that we’ve got a task force there working the case, and a well-equipped San Francisco field office ready to step in that can do the job just fine.”

“With all due respect, I disagree.”

“Not the first time, is it, Karen?”

“Frank. Why can’t Frank take that new case?”

“Del Monaco left yesterday to teach a seminar at New Scotland Yard that goes for another week, then he’s due to consult on a case they’ve been asking for our help on for two months. And Hutchings is on sick leave with an ulcer. Van Owen’s wife was diagnosed this morning with ovarian cancer, so he’s out on bereavement leave. Boozer just retired and we’ve got no one to take his place. I tried pulling Art out of arson and bombing, but they just caught a big case the White House wants them to consult on that might involve a trip to Iraq. And Director Knox isn’t about to tell the president no.”

“So get me the crime scene photos, autopsy photos, victimology—and I’ll look it all over when I get back. Give me a week.”

“Karen . . . ” He paused, no doubt to gather himself, to phrase it in a way that kept him from exploding.