King. He has my weapon. And I need to talk to this numbskull over here.” Rainey nodded her head in Bobo’s direction.
Gunny chuckled. “I’m surprised he’s still here after Junior threatened to kick his ass. Guess he saw him leave.”
That made Rainey smile. Junior was cleaning up his mess. Still, she did not like the idea of Bobo giving a statement to the press. Although he held up during the Dalton Chambers investigation, Rainey presumed it was more out of self-preservation than noble intent.
She turned to Gunny. “Could you find Captain Trainer? He’s the negotiator I was talking to earlier, the older guy with white hair.”
“Yeah, I know who you’re talking about,” Gunny said, looking over her shoulder at the dispersing crowd.
“See if he can retrieve my weapon from King,” Rainey directed, already moving toward Bobo, before turning back to Gunny. “Hey, can you put this in my trunk for me?” She dug around in her coat pocket for her keys. She handed them and the vest to Gunny. “Thanks, and make sure you lock it back. There’s stuff in that car we don’t want loose in this neighborhood.”
“No problem,” Gunny answered, leaving on her mission.
Rainey approached Bobo, who saw her and started to panic. The reporter turned to see what was causing Bobo’s eyes to bug out of his head. That was when Rainey recognized him. She could not remember his name, but she usually did not forget the faces of people she had held at gunpoint.
“Well, if it isn’t former FBI Special Agent Rainey Bell,” he said, smiling broadly. “I’ve been trying to talk to you since you nearly shot me, and here you are, walking right up to me.”
“I recognize the shirt. I remember you were wearing a blue oxford, when you sprang up behind my car while a serial killer was stalking me. Not your finest moment, as I recall.” She looked down at his khaki pants. “Guess you had to have those cleaned.”
The smile left his face, and he appeared to be searching her hands for a weapon. Bobo thought he saw a way out of facing Rainey’s wrath and took a step back, but she had her eye on him.
“Not so fast, Bobo. Stand right there. We need to have a chat.”
Bobo froze. He knew better than to run. Rainey would eventually find him. He decided to remain and take his tongue-lashing. When Rainey was sure Bobo would stay put, she refocused on the man wearing the blue oxford shirt under his wool pea coat.
“I’m sorry, I know you are a writer, but I can’t remember your name.”
“Martin Douglas Cross. I go by Marty.”
“Oh yes, I remember now. You were writing a book and wanted a comment.”
“Yes, I was writing a book about the Y-Man murders, but I’m on to something new now.”
“So, why do you still want to talk to me?” Rainey asked, anticipating that she would not like the answer.
“My new book is about you,” Marty said, beaming. “I’m talking to Bobo about his involvement in the Chauncey Barber fugitive recovery, and what he may know about Mr. Barber’s motivation for stabbing Dalton Chambers. Maybe you could clear up a few things for me, Ms. Bell.”
Bobo started stuttering. “Ra-Ra-Rainey, I told him I didn’t know nothin’ about that Chambers thing, just like I told them cops and that D.A.”
“ Oh God,” Rainey thought, “I have to get this guy out of here.” She spoke to Bobo calmly, deciding this might not be the best time to tell him he was fired. “As long as you tell the truth, Bobo, you have nothing to worry about.”
Marty had done his homework on Dalton’s case. “The truth is Chauncey Barber’s nephew—the boy that shot you, former Agent Bell—is in his second year of attendance at an exclusive military school, on a scholarship funded by your wife’s foundation. You were instrumental in having the charges reduced and quite magnificently stepped in to change his life. That was nice of you, but it does give Chauncey a motive for taking out the serial killer who
Gunny chuckled. “I’m surprised he’s still here after Junior threatened to kick his ass. Guess he saw him leave.”
That made Rainey smile. Junior was cleaning up his mess. Still, she did not like the idea of Bobo giving a statement to the press. Although he held up during the Dalton Chambers investigation, Rainey presumed it was more out of self-preservation than noble intent.
She turned to Gunny. “Could you find Captain Trainer? He’s the negotiator I was talking to earlier, the older guy with white hair.”
“Yeah, I know who you’re talking about,” Gunny said, looking over her shoulder at the dispersing crowd.
“See if he can retrieve my weapon from King,” Rainey directed, already moving toward Bobo, before turning back to Gunny. “Hey, can you put this in my trunk for me?” She dug around in her coat pocket for her keys. She handed them and the vest to Gunny. “Thanks, and make sure you lock it back. There’s stuff in that car we don’t want loose in this neighborhood.”
“No problem,” Gunny answered, leaving on her mission.
Rainey approached Bobo, who saw her and started to panic. The reporter turned to see what was causing Bobo’s eyes to bug out of his head. That was when Rainey recognized him. She could not remember his name, but she usually did not forget the faces of people she had held at gunpoint.
“Well, if it isn’t former FBI Special Agent Rainey Bell,” he said, smiling broadly. “I’ve been trying to talk to you since you nearly shot me, and here you are, walking right up to me.”
“I recognize the shirt. I remember you were wearing a blue oxford, when you sprang up behind my car while a serial killer was stalking me. Not your finest moment, as I recall.” She looked down at his khaki pants. “Guess you had to have those cleaned.”
The smile left his face, and he appeared to be searching her hands for a weapon. Bobo thought he saw a way out of facing Rainey’s wrath and took a step back, but she had her eye on him.
“Not so fast, Bobo. Stand right there. We need to have a chat.”
Bobo froze. He knew better than to run. Rainey would eventually find him. He decided to remain and take his tongue-lashing. When Rainey was sure Bobo would stay put, she refocused on the man wearing the blue oxford shirt under his wool pea coat.
“I’m sorry, I know you are a writer, but I can’t remember your name.”
“Martin Douglas Cross. I go by Marty.”
“Oh yes, I remember now. You were writing a book and wanted a comment.”
“Yes, I was writing a book about the Y-Man murders, but I’m on to something new now.”
“So, why do you still want to talk to me?” Rainey asked, anticipating that she would not like the answer.
“My new book is about you,” Marty said, beaming. “I’m talking to Bobo about his involvement in the Chauncey Barber fugitive recovery, and what he may know about Mr. Barber’s motivation for stabbing Dalton Chambers. Maybe you could clear up a few things for me, Ms. Bell.”
Bobo started stuttering. “Ra-Ra-Rainey, I told him I didn’t know nothin’ about that Chambers thing, just like I told them cops and that D.A.”
“ Oh God,” Rainey thought, “I have to get this guy out of here.” She spoke to Bobo calmly, deciding this might not be the best time to tell him he was fired. “As long as you tell the truth, Bobo, you have nothing to worry about.”
Marty had done his homework on Dalton’s case. “The truth is Chauncey Barber’s nephew—the boy that shot you, former Agent Bell—is in his second year of attendance at an exclusive military school, on a scholarship funded by your wife’s foundation. You were instrumental in having the charges reduced and quite magnificently stepped in to change his life. That was nice of you, but it does give Chauncey a motive for taking out the serial killer who
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