Page 59 of Sharp Force
“Statute eighteen-point-two,” he repeats. “A White House involvement in a hugely sensational serial murder case, and you’ll be under even more scrutiny than ever. Politics and extreme publicity, and your enemies will come after you given the chance.”
“As you’ve said before. More than once. And they come after me anyway.”
“It will be worse.”
“I don’t like keeping track of a gun while shrouded in PPE, dealing with a very bloody scene that’s contaminated with bleach.” I watch him de-cock the Glock, rendering it safe.
He drops out the pistol’s magazine, clearing a semi-jacketed hollow-point from the chamber while explaining that the Slasher’sdrone has stealth and other high-tech capabilities. That’s how he spies on his victims. It’s how he creates his holograms.
“You don’t want to be noncompliant.” Benton hands me the gun, the ammunition. “All you need is someone like Maggie Cutbush or Elvin Reddy finding out that you’re not obeying the law. Even if it’s a stupid one.”
Earlier in the year, the Virginia General Assembly passed a bill mandating that certain first responders, investigators, government officials, even schoolteachers are required to be sworn in as civilian cops. I’ve been one since I began my career as a medical examiner in Miami where I was born and raised.
But carrying my peace officer badge and weapon was always up to my discretion. Not anymore because of statute §18.2. It states that there will be adverse consequencesif the employee does not agree to be trained to enforce the law. This includes carrying a concealed handgun pursuant to this section…
Snapping the Glock’s slide forward, I reload the magazine without chambering a round. I tuck the pistol into the back of my waistband for now. Opening a dresser drawer, Benton finds the thin black leather wallet holding my civilian law enforcement credentials. He hands it to me.
“You’ve been qualifying on the range for as long as we’ve known each other,” he says in a gentler tone as we leave the bedroom. “You know how to handle yourself in police situations. It’s second nature to you.”
He’s looking up a number in his contact list as we follow the hallway. I’m behind him on the stairs, listening as he cancels the Rosewood.
“… Thank you as always for being so understanding…” Benton is saying. “Yes, yes, we’ll definitely try again…”
I envision the majestic hotel with its view of central London, and reality sets in hard. The trip isn’t going to happen. It really isn’t.
Off the phone now, Benton says to me, “They wished you a Merry Christmas, already had a cake and a bottle of champagne ready.”
I open the entryway closet as Merlin saunters through the living room, headed toward us. Collarless, still muttering and meowing, he doesn’t look happy. I pet him, asking if he’s hungry.
“This is the way he was last night.” I pick up my black Pelican scene case the size of a large toolbox. “Acting spooked as if he senses something.”
“An unpleasant thought.” Benton grabs a Secret Service tactical coat that will conceal the gun on his hip.
“Maybe it’s just the wildlife, the raccoon and who knows what else is out there. I hope it’s not for some other reason.” I can’t stop seeing the two red orbs that appeared after Marino drove away from the house.
Collecting my Kevlar briefcase from the table near the front door, I tuck my Glock into a side compartment equipped with a rapid-release Velcro tab.
“Where is Georgine Duvall’s place in Yorktown?” I ask.
“The historic area.” Benton takes the scene case from me. “It would appear from real estate records that the house has been in her family for generations.”
“I remember her mentioning how much she loved the place. She said she had happy memories of going there when she was growing up,” I reply. “Historic Yorktown is very close to Williams & Mary where Zain is in grad school.”
Benton carries my scene case past the Christmas tree. Santa lights up, cheerily hailing us. Merlin hisses just like he always does, and I don’t blame him.
“Lucy obviously knows what’s happened to Georgine. How did she seem when you were talking to her?” I ask.
“You’d never know she was her patient once,” Benton says.
“I hate to think what this will reopen,” I reply as we reach the kitchen. “Lucy’s first year at UVA was brutal for her. And it wasn’t exactly a cakewalk for me either.”
CHAPTER 20
Most mornings we eat at the café table overlooking the birdfeeders and garden. There’s no time for that now, and it’s still dark out, the shades down. Our breakfast will be to-go. But first things first.
I open a cupboard for Merlin’s grain-free wet food made from whitefish. Emptying the can into his bowl, I set it on the mat near the fireplace. He begins wolfing it down, looking up anxiously every other second as text messages land on my phone.
In the car heading to the office,Shannon informs me.
