time.
Physically, he had changed some in five years. The thick, dark hair was salted with gray and cropped almost military short. He looked leaner, worn thin by the job. Ever the clotheshorse, he wore a suit that was Italian and expensive. But the coat hung a little loose off the broad shoulders, and the pants were a little baggy. The effect, though, created elegance rather than an eroding of his physical presence. The planes and angles of his face were sharp. There were circles under the brown eyes. Impatience vibrated in the air around him, and she wondered if it was real or manufactured for the moment.
Sabin turned toward her suddenly. “Well, Kate, what do you think?”
“Me?”
“You worked for the same unit as Special Agent Quinn. What do you think?”
She could feel Quinn's eyes on her, as well as the gazes of everyone else in the room. “No. I'm just the advocate here. I don't even know what business I have being at this meeting. John is the expert—”
“No, he's right, Kate,” Quinn said. He planted his hands on the tabletop and leaned toward her, his dark eyes like coals—she thought she could feel the heat of them on her face. “You were a part of the old Behavioral Sciences Unit. You've got more experience with this kind of case than anyone else at this table besides me. What's your take?”
Kate stared at him, knowing her resentment had to be plain in her eyes. Bad enough to have Sabin put her on the spot, but for Quinn to do it struck her as a betrayal. But then, why she should have been surprised at that, she couldn't imagine.
“Regarding this case, I have no basis on which to form an educated opinion,” she began woodenly. “However, I am well aware of Special Agent Quinn's qualifications and expertise. Personally, I think you would be making a mistake not to follow his advice.”
Quinn looked to the mayor and the chief of police.
“You can't unring a bell,” he said quietly. “Put too much information out there now, there's no taking it back. You can call another press conference tomorrow if you need to. Just give the task force this chance to muster their resources and get a running start.”
Edwyn Noble returned from his phone call, his face sober. “Mr. Bondurant says he'll do whatever Agent Quinn suggests. We'll set the reward at fifty thousand.”
THE MEETING ADJOURNED at four forty-eight. The politicos moved into the mayor's office for last-minute preparations before facing the press. The cops gathered in a cluster at the far end of the conference room to talk about setting up the task force.
“Sabin isn't happy with you, Kate,” Rob said in a tone of confidentiality, as if anyone else in the room would be interested.
“I'd say Ted Sabin can kiss my ass, but he'd be on his knees in a heartbeat.”
Rob blushed and frowned. “Kate—”
“He dragged me into this, he can live with the consequences,” she said, moving toward the door. “I'm going to go check on Angie. See if she's come up with anything from the mug books yet. You're going to the press conference?”
“Yes.”
Good. She had a witness to spring while everyone else was looking the other way. Where to take the girl was the next problem. She belonged in a juvenile facility, but they had as yet been unable to prove she was a juvenile.
“So you worked with Quinn?” Rob said, still with the voice of secrecy, following her toward the door. “I heard him speak at a conference once. He's very impressive. I think his focus on victimology is dead on.”
“That's John, all right.
Impressive
is his middle name.”
Across the room, Quinn turned away from his conversation with the homicide lieutenant and locked on her, as if he'd picked up her comment on his radar. At the same instant, Rob Marshall's pager beeped and he excused himself to use the phone, looking disappointed at the lost opportunity to speak with Quinn again.
Kate wanted no such opportunity. She turned away and started again for the door
Physically, he had changed some in five years. The thick, dark hair was salted with gray and cropped almost military short. He looked leaner, worn thin by the job. Ever the clotheshorse, he wore a suit that was Italian and expensive. But the coat hung a little loose off the broad shoulders, and the pants were a little baggy. The effect, though, created elegance rather than an eroding of his physical presence. The planes and angles of his face were sharp. There were circles under the brown eyes. Impatience vibrated in the air around him, and she wondered if it was real or manufactured for the moment.
Sabin turned toward her suddenly. “Well, Kate, what do you think?”
“Me?”
“You worked for the same unit as Special Agent Quinn. What do you think?”
She could feel Quinn's eyes on her, as well as the gazes of everyone else in the room. “No. I'm just the advocate here. I don't even know what business I have being at this meeting. John is the expert—”
“No, he's right, Kate,” Quinn said. He planted his hands on the tabletop and leaned toward her, his dark eyes like coals—she thought she could feel the heat of them on her face. “You were a part of the old Behavioral Sciences Unit. You've got more experience with this kind of case than anyone else at this table besides me. What's your take?”
Kate stared at him, knowing her resentment had to be plain in her eyes. Bad enough to have Sabin put her on the spot, but for Quinn to do it struck her as a betrayal. But then, why she should have been surprised at that, she couldn't imagine.
“Regarding this case, I have no basis on which to form an educated opinion,” she began woodenly. “However, I am well aware of Special Agent Quinn's qualifications and expertise. Personally, I think you would be making a mistake not to follow his advice.”
Quinn looked to the mayor and the chief of police.
“You can't unring a bell,” he said quietly. “Put too much information out there now, there's no taking it back. You can call another press conference tomorrow if you need to. Just give the task force this chance to muster their resources and get a running start.”
Edwyn Noble returned from his phone call, his face sober. “Mr. Bondurant says he'll do whatever Agent Quinn suggests. We'll set the reward at fifty thousand.”
THE MEETING ADJOURNED at four forty-eight. The politicos moved into the mayor's office for last-minute preparations before facing the press. The cops gathered in a cluster at the far end of the conference room to talk about setting up the task force.
“Sabin isn't happy with you, Kate,” Rob said in a tone of confidentiality, as if anyone else in the room would be interested.
“I'd say Ted Sabin can kiss my ass, but he'd be on his knees in a heartbeat.”
Rob blushed and frowned. “Kate—”
“He dragged me into this, he can live with the consequences,” she said, moving toward the door. “I'm going to go check on Angie. See if she's come up with anything from the mug books yet. You're going to the press conference?”
“Yes.”
Good. She had a witness to spring while everyone else was looking the other way. Where to take the girl was the next problem. She belonged in a juvenile facility, but they had as yet been unable to prove she was a juvenile.
“So you worked with Quinn?” Rob said, still with the voice of secrecy, following her toward the door. “I heard him speak at a conference once. He's very impressive. I think his focus on victimology is dead on.”
“That's John, all right.
Impressive
is his middle name.”
Across the room, Quinn turned away from his conversation with the homicide lieutenant and locked on her, as if he'd picked up her comment on his radar. At the same instant, Rob Marshall's pager beeped and he excused himself to use the phone, looking disappointed at the lost opportunity to speak with Quinn again.
Kate wanted no such opportunity. She turned away and started again for the door
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