Read Online Don't Look Away (Veronica Sloan) by Leslie A. Kelly - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Leslie A. Kelly
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in my profession to leap light-years ahead in crime scene evaluation.”
Tate didn’t smile, didn’t puff out his chest, he merely nodded once. But a brief flash in his intelligent blue eyes said he was pleased at the compliment.
He deserved it. That tiny little implant Americans had rioted against several years ago had saved a lot of lives by providing on-the-spot vitals and medical records during emergencies. It had also helped solve a lot of cases. Much as Tate’s latest invention, the Optic Evidence device, would do, if this phase of the testing was a success. The inability to jump into the first genuine investigation had to be frustrating Phineas Tate as much as it was Ronnie.
“Doctor Tate, I’m wondering if there is anything else you might be able to do to help us in this investigation if the optic device is not located,” one of the FBI agents said.
Funny how everyone referred to locating the device. Not Leanne Carr’s head.
Glancing around the table, Ronnie noticed a confused expression on the faces of a few of the players. Bailey, the female Secret Service agent and another security dude were scrunching their brows in confusion, the addition of the “optic device” element taking them by surprise.
Kilgore, you jerk. No discussing top secret issues my ass.
“I’m afraid my expertise is scientific. I’m no criminal expert. You fine people are all far more adept at that than I.” He then glanced at Ronnie. “Of course, having worked closely with Detective Sloan during her training, I can say I think that once the device is found, this investigation will be in excellent hands.”
A flush of warmth rose in her, like she was some kid who’d been praised by the teacher in front of the class. Probably earned her a few more hate-points from Kilgore and the other higher-ups, but she couldn’t deny she’d appreciated the words of support.
“Yes, but if that doesn’t happen?” Kilgore pressed, apparently wanting to stage another battle in the turf war.
Tate held up a hand and shook his head, his withdrawal from the conversation almost visible, though the man never left his chair. And that was that. No more questions. No more discussion. Ronnie would really like to learn that trick.
The others around the table hesitated for one moment, then began talking, voices raising decibel by decibel as each person strove to be heard above the rest. Kilgore fumed, but Johansen did a pretty good job of keeping a calm, patient expression while the others tried to spout excuses and reasons why they were not at fault for the lapse in security on the site.
What a waste of time. It was just more of the same bureaucratic garbage that had prevented Ronnie from ever even trying to go after a higher-level job with the department.
Absolutely the only thing she found interesting was watching Dr. Phineas Tate. He sat quietly, his hands folded on the table in front of him, his eyes cast downward, lashes half-lowered. He almost looked like he was taking a nap. But she knew better. She’d spent enough time with him during her training to recognize when the man was deep in thought.
One other thing that Ronnie found worth noting was the demeanor of the victim’s supervisor. Williams was obviously successful, well-dressed, well-spoken. Even handsome, in a white-bread, Ivy-league, middle-aged way. But he looked like he was trying to keep a tight reign on his emotions. During the forensic report, she’d seen his hands shake, and now, as the meeting’s velocity grew, he excused himself and left the room, as if wanting to be alone before tears could course from his eyes.
Of course, anyone would feel that way about a co-worker being brutally murdered. Still, being the skeptical person she was, Ronnie had to wonder exactly what their relationship had been like. Especially since he’d been so insistent about staying in the room.
Daniels obviously noticed, too. Because while he listened just as intently, he was also busy
Tate didn’t smile, didn’t puff out his chest, he merely nodded once. But a brief flash in his intelligent blue eyes said he was pleased at the compliment.
He deserved it. That tiny little implant Americans had rioted against several years ago had saved a lot of lives by providing on-the-spot vitals and medical records during emergencies. It had also helped solve a lot of cases. Much as Tate’s latest invention, the Optic Evidence device, would do, if this phase of the testing was a success. The inability to jump into the first genuine investigation had to be frustrating Phineas Tate as much as it was Ronnie.
“Doctor Tate, I’m wondering if there is anything else you might be able to do to help us in this investigation if the optic device is not located,” one of the FBI agents said.
Funny how everyone referred to locating the device. Not Leanne Carr’s head.
Glancing around the table, Ronnie noticed a confused expression on the faces of a few of the players. Bailey, the female Secret Service agent and another security dude were scrunching their brows in confusion, the addition of the “optic device” element taking them by surprise.
Kilgore, you jerk. No discussing top secret issues my ass.
“I’m afraid my expertise is scientific. I’m no criminal expert. You fine people are all far more adept at that than I.” He then glanced at Ronnie. “Of course, having worked closely with Detective Sloan during her training, I can say I think that once the device is found, this investigation will be in excellent hands.”
A flush of warmth rose in her, like she was some kid who’d been praised by the teacher in front of the class. Probably earned her a few more hate-points from Kilgore and the other higher-ups, but she couldn’t deny she’d appreciated the words of support.
“Yes, but if that doesn’t happen?” Kilgore pressed, apparently wanting to stage another battle in the turf war.
Tate held up a hand and shook his head, his withdrawal from the conversation almost visible, though the man never left his chair. And that was that. No more questions. No more discussion. Ronnie would really like to learn that trick.
The others around the table hesitated for one moment, then began talking, voices raising decibel by decibel as each person strove to be heard above the rest. Kilgore fumed, but Johansen did a pretty good job of keeping a calm, patient expression while the others tried to spout excuses and reasons why they were not at fault for the lapse in security on the site.
What a waste of time. It was just more of the same bureaucratic garbage that had prevented Ronnie from ever even trying to go after a higher-level job with the department.
Absolutely the only thing she found interesting was watching Dr. Phineas Tate. He sat quietly, his hands folded on the table in front of him, his eyes cast downward, lashes half-lowered. He almost looked like he was taking a nap. But she knew better. She’d spent enough time with him during her training to recognize when the man was deep in thought.
One other thing that Ronnie found worth noting was the demeanor of the victim’s supervisor. Williams was obviously successful, well-dressed, well-spoken. Even handsome, in a white-bread, Ivy-league, middle-aged way. But he looked like he was trying to keep a tight reign on his emotions. During the forensic report, she’d seen his hands shake, and now, as the meeting’s velocity grew, he excused himself and left the room, as if wanting to be alone before tears could course from his eyes.
Of course, anyone would feel that way about a co-worker being brutally murdered. Still, being the skeptical person she was, Ronnie had to wonder exactly what their relationship had been like. Especially since he’d been so insistent about staying in the room.
Daniels obviously noticed, too. Because while he listened just as intently, he was also busy
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