Read Online Don't Look Away (Veronica Sloan) by Leslie A. Kelly - Free Book Online
Authors: Leslie A. Kelly
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issues--IE: The fact that Leanne was an O.E.P. participant. Something only a few people in this room had high enough clearance to know about.
Kilgore finally deigned to speak. “We won’t be discussing any top secret issues.” He hardened his gaze, staring at her in challenge. “Because there’s nothing to discuss at this point.”
Until the head was found. Check. She had been put firmly back in her place.
Yes, sir, that’s a mighty long one you’ve got there, I’m sure we’re all terribly impressed.
So, track two. “Sir, it’s just good police work to restrict discussions about the evidence to actual investigators,” she insisted, growing more frustrated at his inexplicable obstinacy. What the hell kind of law official was he? Keeping civilians—and potential witnesses—out of the case was Crime Solving 101. She had to wonder whose back he’d scratched to get to so high on the Secret Service’s ladder, because it sure didn’t seem like skill or intelligence had played a part.
“Look, miss,” the senior agent replied, his sneer audible, “the president wants the top people on this site involved in the investigation. Those orders came right from Camp David. Are you going to question the president’s orders?”
That’s when she pegged him. The guy had no imagination, was a goose-stepping, completely by-the-book, couldn’t-think-for-himself bureaucrat. He was apparently incapable of formulating judgments for himself.
“Are you sure he didn’t mean the top law enforcement people, Agent Kilgore?” she asked, wondering if he heard the rest of the sentence, the part she didn’t say: you jackass ?
Johansen apparently heard it because she saw his head bob up and down in a tiny nod.
Kilgore opened his mouth, apparently about to release a full head of steam, when he was cut off by the only man in the room who could do it.
“I suspect that’s exactly what the president meant, Detective Sloan,” said Phineas Tate. “It’s idiotic to think otherwise.”
Kilgore blinked rapidly. His forehead furrowing, his head dropping, and his shoulders hunched, he looked like a bull lowering its head for a goring. A flush rose from his thick neck through his cheeks as he eventually realized he’d not only been contradicted, but also called an idiot.
“Shall we call the president to confirm?” Tate asked, his voice pleasant as he reached for his phone, acting like he had the commander in chief on speed dial. Ronnie had no idea if it was a bluff, but if so, it was a pretty convincing one.
Kilgore muttered something to Johansen, then threw himself back in his seat.
“Very well,” said Johansen, “all those not directly involved in the investigation, thanks for your time. Please stay on site for further questioning.”
The civilians got up to leave. Everyone except the guy in the expensive suit, the one who looked like he’d been trying to hold himself together by sheer force of will. The victim’s supervisor, she recalled. Ronnie looked at him and lifted an eyebrow.
“I have top security clearance,” he insisted, settling deeper into his chair. “I’m also the head of the Phoenix Group, and the president himself called me to ask me to help with this investigation in any way I could.”
She frowned, not liking the idea, but Kilgore had apparently had enough. “Mr. Williams is staying,” he barked. His tone bordering on supplicating, he added, “Sorry, Jack.”
“That’s fine,” the executive said, offering Ronnie a weak smile. “Detective Sloan is right to err on the side of caution.”
The compliment didn’t improve her mood. God, this was not going well. She made a mental note to find out how well Kilgore and Williams knew each other. Given that Kilgore was the Special Agent In Charge of the Secret Service contingent on site, and Williams was in charge of the whole damn thing, they probably interacted on a daily basis. Cozy .
Outvoted, outgunned, Ronnie nodded and withdrew from the
Kilgore finally deigned to speak. “We won’t be discussing any top secret issues.” He hardened his gaze, staring at her in challenge. “Because there’s nothing to discuss at this point.”
Until the head was found. Check. She had been put firmly back in her place.
Yes, sir, that’s a mighty long one you’ve got there, I’m sure we’re all terribly impressed.
So, track two. “Sir, it’s just good police work to restrict discussions about the evidence to actual investigators,” she insisted, growing more frustrated at his inexplicable obstinacy. What the hell kind of law official was he? Keeping civilians—and potential witnesses—out of the case was Crime Solving 101. She had to wonder whose back he’d scratched to get to so high on the Secret Service’s ladder, because it sure didn’t seem like skill or intelligence had played a part.
“Look, miss,” the senior agent replied, his sneer audible, “the president wants the top people on this site involved in the investigation. Those orders came right from Camp David. Are you going to question the president’s orders?”
That’s when she pegged him. The guy had no imagination, was a goose-stepping, completely by-the-book, couldn’t-think-for-himself bureaucrat. He was apparently incapable of formulating judgments for himself.
“Are you sure he didn’t mean the top law enforcement people, Agent Kilgore?” she asked, wondering if he heard the rest of the sentence, the part she didn’t say: you jackass ?
Johansen apparently heard it because she saw his head bob up and down in a tiny nod.
Kilgore opened his mouth, apparently about to release a full head of steam, when he was cut off by the only man in the room who could do it.
“I suspect that’s exactly what the president meant, Detective Sloan,” said Phineas Tate. “It’s idiotic to think otherwise.”
Kilgore blinked rapidly. His forehead furrowing, his head dropping, and his shoulders hunched, he looked like a bull lowering its head for a goring. A flush rose from his thick neck through his cheeks as he eventually realized he’d not only been contradicted, but also called an idiot.
“Shall we call the president to confirm?” Tate asked, his voice pleasant as he reached for his phone, acting like he had the commander in chief on speed dial. Ronnie had no idea if it was a bluff, but if so, it was a pretty convincing one.
Kilgore muttered something to Johansen, then threw himself back in his seat.
“Very well,” said Johansen, “all those not directly involved in the investigation, thanks for your time. Please stay on site for further questioning.”
The civilians got up to leave. Everyone except the guy in the expensive suit, the one who looked like he’d been trying to hold himself together by sheer force of will. The victim’s supervisor, she recalled. Ronnie looked at him and lifted an eyebrow.
“I have top security clearance,” he insisted, settling deeper into his chair. “I’m also the head of the Phoenix Group, and the president himself called me to ask me to help with this investigation in any way I could.”
She frowned, not liking the idea, but Kilgore had apparently had enough. “Mr. Williams is staying,” he barked. His tone bordering on supplicating, he added, “Sorry, Jack.”
“That’s fine,” the executive said, offering Ronnie a weak smile. “Detective Sloan is right to err on the side of caution.”
The compliment didn’t improve her mood. God, this was not going well. She made a mental note to find out how well Kilgore and Williams knew each other. Given that Kilgore was the Special Agent In Charge of the Secret Service contingent on site, and Williams was in charge of the whole damn thing, they probably interacted on a daily basis. Cozy .
Outvoted, outgunned, Ronnie nodded and withdrew from the
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