Read Online Under Cover of Darkness by James Grippando - Free Book Online
Authors: James Grippando
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table. Nothing. He searched the couch where she'd been sitting, shoving his hand between all the seat cushions. A couple of pens emerged, a lost nickel. But no carved horse.
He glanced out the window, focusing on the waist-high palm prints Morgan had left on the glass. An unsettling feeling slowly washed over him, but the conclusion was inescapable.
His own daughter had just shoplifted.
Andie entered the main terminal through the American Airlines entrance. The sun had yet to rise, but the airport was bustling. The hour before dawn was like yin and yang at SEA-TAC. Half the people were full of energy, hurrying toward flights that marked the start of their day. The other half were like zombies, arriving from some faraway place after a long night of travel. Andie was somewhere between the extremes, excited about her new assignment yet sickened by the shaky start. She hadn't decided exactly what to tell Victoria Santos about the press leak, but she had to think of something fast. Throughout the terminal, it seemed like every fifty feet there was another newsstand blasting the premature headlines about a serial killer. She tucked a copy of the Seattle Post-Intelligencer under her arm and moved with the crowd toward the baggage carousels.
At the turnstile she stopped short. Just ahead was Victoria Santos.
She was dressed comfortably for the long flight, slacks and a sweater, but Andie recognized her instantly. Santos was a bit of an FBI legend, especially among female agents. Years ago she had made a name for herself with the Child Abduction and Serial Killer Unit. It was her profiling and hard work that had cracked the famous "tongue murder" case, a nationwide string of bizarre murders that were connected only by the killer's gruesome signature--the extraction of each victim's tongue. It was the first of many success stories. She was well established as a supervisory special agent by the time Andie had met her for the first and only time, at a training course Santos taught at the academy.
She was slightly taller than Andie, with eyes every bit as intense as Andie had remembered. Up until a month ago, her long, dark hair had been one of her more striking features.. Rumor had it that she'd cut it to shoulder length o n h er forty-fifth birthday, that she hadn't gone to some expensive hair stylist, just grabbed the scissors from her desk drawer and whacked it off.
It was no secret that criminal profilers had one of the highest burnout rates in the bureau. Some said Victoria was approaching the point in her career where she'd crawled inside the head of too many psychopaths, that she'd looked into the eyes of too many lifeless victims. Others thought she was still steaming over the inexplicable decision to derail her promotion to unit chief at CAS KU by transferring her to the Investigative Support Unit. Her supporters said she was extremely aggressive. Her detractors said she was extremely aggressive. Bureau politics being what they were, you didn't have to be the highest-ranking woman in a predominantly male unit to get stabbed in the back.
"Ms. Santos?" Andie extended her hand. "I'm Agent Henning. It's a pleasure to meet you. Actually, it's an honor."
Andie cringed at the "honor" bit, concerned that she was sounding like a kiss-ass.
"I hope you're not too honored to call me Victoria," she said as they shook hands.
"Okay, Victoria."
They exchanged smiles, but Victoria looked understandably tired. She'd just flown coast to coast on the red-eye, having left her home in Virginia some time after midnight. Andie glanced at the two bags at her side.
"I see you already got your luggage."
"Yeah. Let's get out of here."
Andie and Victoria reached for the same suitcase at the same instant. They knocked heads. Andie backed away, startled. The rolled-up copy of the Post-Intelligencer slid from under her arm and fell to the floor. The page-one story was right at their feet. Victoria rubbed her forehead where Andie had butted her.
He glanced out the window, focusing on the waist-high palm prints Morgan had left on the glass. An unsettling feeling slowly washed over him, but the conclusion was inescapable.
His own daughter had just shoplifted.
Andie entered the main terminal through the American Airlines entrance. The sun had yet to rise, but the airport was bustling. The hour before dawn was like yin and yang at SEA-TAC. Half the people were full of energy, hurrying toward flights that marked the start of their day. The other half were like zombies, arriving from some faraway place after a long night of travel. Andie was somewhere between the extremes, excited about her new assignment yet sickened by the shaky start. She hadn't decided exactly what to tell Victoria Santos about the press leak, but she had to think of something fast. Throughout the terminal, it seemed like every fifty feet there was another newsstand blasting the premature headlines about a serial killer. She tucked a copy of the Seattle Post-Intelligencer under her arm and moved with the crowd toward the baggage carousels.
At the turnstile she stopped short. Just ahead was Victoria Santos.
She was dressed comfortably for the long flight, slacks and a sweater, but Andie recognized her instantly. Santos was a bit of an FBI legend, especially among female agents. Years ago she had made a name for herself with the Child Abduction and Serial Killer Unit. It was her profiling and hard work that had cracked the famous "tongue murder" case, a nationwide string of bizarre murders that were connected only by the killer's gruesome signature--the extraction of each victim's tongue. It was the first of many success stories. She was well established as a supervisory special agent by the time Andie had met her for the first and only time, at a training course Santos taught at the academy.
She was slightly taller than Andie, with eyes every bit as intense as Andie had remembered. Up until a month ago, her long, dark hair had been one of her more striking features.. Rumor had it that she'd cut it to shoulder length o n h er forty-fifth birthday, that she hadn't gone to some expensive hair stylist, just grabbed the scissors from her desk drawer and whacked it off.
It was no secret that criminal profilers had one of the highest burnout rates in the bureau. Some said Victoria was approaching the point in her career where she'd crawled inside the head of too many psychopaths, that she'd looked into the eyes of too many lifeless victims. Others thought she was still steaming over the inexplicable decision to derail her promotion to unit chief at CAS KU by transferring her to the Investigative Support Unit. Her supporters said she was extremely aggressive. Her detractors said she was extremely aggressive. Bureau politics being what they were, you didn't have to be the highest-ranking woman in a predominantly male unit to get stabbed in the back.
"Ms. Santos?" Andie extended her hand. "I'm Agent Henning. It's a pleasure to meet you. Actually, it's an honor."
Andie cringed at the "honor" bit, concerned that she was sounding like a kiss-ass.
"I hope you're not too honored to call me Victoria," she said as they shook hands.
"Okay, Victoria."
They exchanged smiles, but Victoria looked understandably tired. She'd just flown coast to coast on the red-eye, having left her home in Virginia some time after midnight. Andie glanced at the two bags at her side.
"I see you already got your luggage."
"Yeah. Let's get out of here."
Andie and Victoria reached for the same suitcase at the same instant. They knocked heads. Andie backed away, startled. The rolled-up copy of the Post-Intelligencer slid from under her arm and fell to the floor. The page-one story was right at their feet. Victoria rubbed her forehead where Andie had butted her.
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