Read Online The Killing Season by Mason Cross - Free Book Online Page B

spent 7.62 cartridges were recovered from the wooded area overlooking the lot, validating the forensic guy’s guess. A thumbprint found on one was quickly checked and matched as Caleb Wardell’s, to the surprise of no one. Good work from all concerned, but crime scene work wasn’t what I had been brought in for. To do that, I needed three things: a little time, a little space, and a lot of information. I caught up with Banner outside in the parking lot as she finished a call on her cell.
    “Yeah,” she said in acknowledgment. She delivered the word flat: not a question or a challenge, sounding neither impatient nor pleased. She did not seem in any mood to be standing around shooting the breeze, so I cut to the chase.
    “Listen, I know bringing me in on this wasn’t exactly your idea, but I think I can help you.”
    Banner turned away, staring into the distance and looking like she was thinking of all the things she ought to be doing five minutes ago. Then she looked back at me. “But first you need something from me?”
    “Bingo.”
    I asked Banner to have everything on Wardell e-mailed to me.
    “You already have the file,” she said.
    I shook my head. “That’s the Reader’s Digest version. I mean the big file. Everything.”
    “Everything,” she repeated. “More homework?”
    “Something like that.”
    A pause, then she said: “All right. I guess Castle would say it’ll keep you out of the way.”
    I didn’t rise to that. Being honest, it did feel a little against the grain, to retreat to desk work when there was a killer on the loose, but it was all part of my system. The game was on, and if I was going to play my part, I was going to have to know my quarry inside out. The task force would take care of chasing up leads, coordinating dragnets and searches, warning the populace—all of the thousand and one other concerns. In the meantime, I had to forget about all of those distractions and get down to business. My business.
    Banner didn’t complain about having to take the time out to make the calls, didn’t ask what I was planning to do. Most of the material was available electronically, but she had the remainder faxed through to the command center. While I was waiting, I bought some maps from the supermarket.
    When it was done, I thanked her. I meant it, because she didn’t have to help me. It certainly wouldn’t increase her standing with Castle.
    She brushed it off. “No need to get all warm and fuzzy. Let’s just say I’m hedging my bets.”
    By three o’clock, and with no small amount of difficulty, I had located what seemed like the last motel room in town that had not yet been snagged by an incoming journalist. I checked in as Jerry Siegel: an assumed name to hide an assumed name. The room had cable, Wi-Fi, and a desk: every­thing I needed. I switched on one of the news channels and muted the sound; then I set my laptop up on the desk and got to work.
     
    13
     
    4:10 p.m.
     
    “Agent Banner?” Banner started a little at the sudden voice and looked up from her phone, on which she’d been reading a terse e-mail from Donaldson. The expression on Agent Paxon’s face told her this wasn’t another shooting, not yet. That news wouldn’t come to her in person. When it happened, the first sign would be the ringing of multiple phones.
    Kelly Paxon had to be in her first or second year with the Bureau, Banner guessed. She wore a dark skirt and jacket, white blouse, only a little makeup. Her strawberry-blond hair was tied back, and she wore glasses with thin, dark red frames. She was nervous. This was evidently her first time in the midst of one of the really big cases and she, like everyone else, had probably been yelled at a couple of times today by stressed-out superiors.
    Banner smiled reassuringly. “What have you got for me?”
    “Marion.”
    “Wardell’s prison?”
    Paxon nodded. “We’ve gone over every piece of paperwork on the transfer. Looks like Wardell was a last-minute