to be
wrong. You’re the most organized agent I’ve got. What the hell was he talking
about? The missing file, I know, but there was more—” Corona shook his head and
his gaze burned into hers. “He said you didn’t have a tape ready for him?”
Tomasco
was Josh Steiner’s boss. Josh had obviously complained about her not having the
tapes when they met. And that she’d been late to their meeting. She had already
taken care of getting Josh what he needed. “I—”
Corona
wiped his hand across the air and Sam silenced. “Is something going on?
Something I should know about? A medical problem or something? Are you taking
some new medication?”
She
shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”
“I
know Jeremy’s a pain in the ass. I’m sure he’s overreacting. When he called, I
was sure it had to do with Williams, but when he said you —” Corona
stared at her without continuing.
She
didn’t respond. There was nothing to say. She had no excuse, no good reason.
And the truth sounded the most far-fetched. Someone had stolen a file and then
returned it and left her a strange note? This wasn’t the fifth grade, and
Corona wasn’t the school principal, there to hold her hand and make sure no one
stole her milk money. Sam would handle this on her own.
Corona
stood and leaned across the desk, staring down at her. “Relationships aren’t
your strength, Chase. I like you, but I’ll be the first to admit it—you scare
some people, maybe most people. But lately, something’s different. You seem
less in control. Not the agent I depend on. If there’s something going on, I suggest
you find some way to take care of it or someone to talk to.”
He
didn’t offer his own ears and she was thankful. She wasn’t the type to spill
her guts, and he knew it. She couldn’t believe this mess had gone this far, but
it stopped here.
Sitting
back down, he asked, “Does it have anything to do with the Walters case?”
Sam
shook her head. “No,” she said, her voice cracking. She coughed and repeated.
“No.”
“The
D.A. wants a quick resolution to it. The idea that we executed an innocent man
is not sitting well with the D.A.’s office.”
“I
know. We made an arrest yesterday, but I don’t think he’s our man.” She’d read
the report this morning that said the print on Sandi Walters did not belong to
James Lugino. Now they had to figure out who the hell it did belong to.
“Then
find him. And keep me updated on what you’ve got. I want a daily report—leave
it on my voice mail. Now get out of here, you hear.” He gave her a half smile
that was supposed to be encouraging.
Sam
left Corona’s office feeling strangely out of sorts. She didn’t like his
reaction to the picture. He wasn’t one to take trespasses of the system
lightly, but the idea that he thought she was doing faulty work was more than
she was willing to accept. Whoever had taken her file and put the picture in it
had been determined to shake her up. And as Corona so diplomatically put it, it
appeared to be working.
Not
anymore.
Back
in her office, she picked up her phone and dialed the main number of the Contra
Costa Sheriff’s Department from memory. When the officer at the desk answered,
she asked for Jack Tunney, the clerk who had been researching the crime scene
team.
“Officer
Tunney’s out,” the woman at the desk responded.
Sam
frowned. “This is Special Agent Sam Chase. He was working a case with me.
Where’s he out?”
“Wife
had a baby last night. Three weeks early—a little boy. Jack junior. Kid was
big, too—over seven pounds,” the woman continued. “It’s good thing she didn’t
carry it to term. Would’ve been an eleven-pounder easy. Both my boys were over
ten and it’s no fun, I tell you.”
“Thank
you,” Sam said, although she wished she hadn’t gotten quite so much detail.
“Can you direct me to whoever is handling Officer Tunney’s caseload?”
“That’d
be Kirkwood. Hang
wrong. You’re the most organized agent I’ve got. What the hell was he talking
about? The missing file, I know, but there was more—” Corona shook his head and
his gaze burned into hers. “He said you didn’t have a tape ready for him?”
Tomasco
was Josh Steiner’s boss. Josh had obviously complained about her not having the
tapes when they met. And that she’d been late to their meeting. She had already
taken care of getting Josh what he needed. “I—”
Corona
wiped his hand across the air and Sam silenced. “Is something going on?
Something I should know about? A medical problem or something? Are you taking
some new medication?”
She
shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”
“I
know Jeremy’s a pain in the ass. I’m sure he’s overreacting. When he called, I
was sure it had to do with Williams, but when he said you —” Corona
stared at her without continuing.
She
didn’t respond. There was nothing to say. She had no excuse, no good reason.
And the truth sounded the most far-fetched. Someone had stolen a file and then
returned it and left her a strange note? This wasn’t the fifth grade, and
Corona wasn’t the school principal, there to hold her hand and make sure no one
stole her milk money. Sam would handle this on her own.
Corona
stood and leaned across the desk, staring down at her. “Relationships aren’t
your strength, Chase. I like you, but I’ll be the first to admit it—you scare
some people, maybe most people. But lately, something’s different. You seem
less in control. Not the agent I depend on. If there’s something going on, I suggest
you find some way to take care of it or someone to talk to.”
He
didn’t offer his own ears and she was thankful. She wasn’t the type to spill
her guts, and he knew it. She couldn’t believe this mess had gone this far, but
it stopped here.
Sitting
back down, he asked, “Does it have anything to do with the Walters case?”
Sam
shook her head. “No,” she said, her voice cracking. She coughed and repeated.
“No.”
“The
D.A. wants a quick resolution to it. The idea that we executed an innocent man
is not sitting well with the D.A.’s office.”
“I
know. We made an arrest yesterday, but I don’t think he’s our man.” She’d read
the report this morning that said the print on Sandi Walters did not belong to
James Lugino. Now they had to figure out who the hell it did belong to.
“Then
find him. And keep me updated on what you’ve got. I want a daily report—leave
it on my voice mail. Now get out of here, you hear.” He gave her a half smile
that was supposed to be encouraging.
Sam
left Corona’s office feeling strangely out of sorts. She didn’t like his
reaction to the picture. He wasn’t one to take trespasses of the system
lightly, but the idea that he thought she was doing faulty work was more than
she was willing to accept. Whoever had taken her file and put the picture in it
had been determined to shake her up. And as Corona so diplomatically put it, it
appeared to be working.
Not
anymore.
Back
in her office, she picked up her phone and dialed the main number of the Contra
Costa Sheriff’s Department from memory. When the officer at the desk answered,
she asked for Jack Tunney, the clerk who had been researching the crime scene
team.
“Officer
Tunney’s out,” the woman at the desk responded.
Sam
frowned. “This is Special Agent Sam Chase. He was working a case with me.
Where’s he out?”
“Wife
had a baby last night. Three weeks early—a little boy. Jack junior. Kid was
big, too—over seven pounds,” the woman continued. “It’s good thing she didn’t
carry it to term. Would’ve been an eleven-pounder easy. Both my boys were over
ten and it’s no fun, I tell you.”
“Thank
you,” Sam said, although she wished she hadn’t gotten quite so much detail.
“Can you direct me to whoever is handling Officer Tunney’s caseload?”
“That’d
be Kirkwood. Hang
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