Why not tell her that one of those fools had finally decided upon revenge? There was even a sense of inevitability to it.
Was this shame?
Was this guilt?
Whatever it was, Xana set it aside. Detective Konquist was threading his way back to her. He looked as if his favorite puppy had just pissed on his favorite bed.
“We’re going to have an officer drive you home,” Detective Konquist told her. “You understand.”
“I can still be of help.”
“Do you know where the McCormicks are?”
“No.”
“Do you know who abducted them?”
“No.”
“Thank you for your help.”
Konquist turned away.
But that wouldn’t do. She couldn’t let them sideline her, not when things were getting interesting. She had to make herself indispensable. But how?
Chapter 16
“You know what’s weird?” said Xana. “I don’t see the FBI.”
Konquist turned back toward her, crossed his arms, and waited for her to elaborate.
So she did.
“Isn’t it weird? You have a murdered foreign national. And not just any old foreign national but a priest! And his murderer crossed state borders to commit his premeditated crime. And now you have two persons from yet another state gone missing. You would think the FBI would be all over this. It’s so weird.”
“I’m sure they’ll be briefed when the time is right.”
“No time like the present. That’s what I always say. Good thing I still have a few of my former co-workers on speed dial.”
To underline her bluff, she took out her phone. And it
was
a bluff. She had none of her former co-workers on speed dial, and she doubted whether any of them would be receptive to a cold call from her now.
On the other hand, the fine men and women of the Atlanta Police Department didn’t want the FBI mucking up their show, especially after the feds had received the lion’s share of the credit for saving those hostages in July despite the valiant efforts—and tragic losses—incurred on that day by the APD.
Some law enforcement agencies maintained a healthy relationship between jurisdictions. Some cities encouraged cooperation among local, state, and federal authorities.
Such had never been the case in the South.
And so:
“What do you want, Miss Marx?”
“I just want to help.”
“How?”
“Well, for starters, you boys seem to be fixated on an assumption that could be one hundred percent false.”
“Which is?”
“That this guy Lucia described, this guy with the scar, this guy you and Detective Chau obviously recognize, this guy who any five-year-old could figure out is a cop—you’re assuming he also was the one who snagged evidence from the crime scene last night.”
“Forgive me, Miss Marx,” said Detective Konquist, “but weren’t you the one who just a few minutes ago was going on about Venn diagrams and how it had to be the same person?”
“That’s because I forgot about the neighbors. I always forget about the neighbors.”
Konquist looked around the strip of motel rooms. The newly arrived uniforms were already going door to door, interviewing each of the guests. Maybe one of them had seen the McCormicks get into a car. Maybe one of them had taken notice of the car’s make and model. Maybe one of them had jotted down the car’s license plate.
“Not those neighbors,” Xana told him. “Last night. The couple who called it in.”
“The whatever-their-name was? What about them?”
“Did you get their statement?”
“Their statement? Gosh. What a great idea that would have been! No, we just clucked at them like chickens until they went back to their room. You’re so smart.”
Xana smirked. “You’re ornery when you’re tired, Detective.”
“I’m sorry. I’m really not enjoying this case. I like squares. Squares make sense. But then you got to add rhombuses and trapezoids and people think they’re more interesting because they’re different, but they’re not more interesting. They’re trying too hard. There’s nothing wrong with a
Was this shame?
Was this guilt?
Whatever it was, Xana set it aside. Detective Konquist was threading his way back to her. He looked as if his favorite puppy had just pissed on his favorite bed.
“We’re going to have an officer drive you home,” Detective Konquist told her. “You understand.”
“I can still be of help.”
“Do you know where the McCormicks are?”
“No.”
“Do you know who abducted them?”
“No.”
“Thank you for your help.”
Konquist turned away.
But that wouldn’t do. She couldn’t let them sideline her, not when things were getting interesting. She had to make herself indispensable. But how?
Chapter 16
“You know what’s weird?” said Xana. “I don’t see the FBI.”
Konquist turned back toward her, crossed his arms, and waited for her to elaborate.
So she did.
“Isn’t it weird? You have a murdered foreign national. And not just any old foreign national but a priest! And his murderer crossed state borders to commit his premeditated crime. And now you have two persons from yet another state gone missing. You would think the FBI would be all over this. It’s so weird.”
“I’m sure they’ll be briefed when the time is right.”
“No time like the present. That’s what I always say. Good thing I still have a few of my former co-workers on speed dial.”
To underline her bluff, she took out her phone. And it
was
a bluff. She had none of her former co-workers on speed dial, and she doubted whether any of them would be receptive to a cold call from her now.
On the other hand, the fine men and women of the Atlanta Police Department didn’t want the FBI mucking up their show, especially after the feds had received the lion’s share of the credit for saving those hostages in July despite the valiant efforts—and tragic losses—incurred on that day by the APD.
Some law enforcement agencies maintained a healthy relationship between jurisdictions. Some cities encouraged cooperation among local, state, and federal authorities.
Such had never been the case in the South.
And so:
“What do you want, Miss Marx?”
“I just want to help.”
“How?”
“Well, for starters, you boys seem to be fixated on an assumption that could be one hundred percent false.”
“Which is?”
“That this guy Lucia described, this guy with the scar, this guy you and Detective Chau obviously recognize, this guy who any five-year-old could figure out is a cop—you’re assuming he also was the one who snagged evidence from the crime scene last night.”
“Forgive me, Miss Marx,” said Detective Konquist, “but weren’t you the one who just a few minutes ago was going on about Venn diagrams and how it had to be the same person?”
“That’s because I forgot about the neighbors. I always forget about the neighbors.”
Konquist looked around the strip of motel rooms. The newly arrived uniforms were already going door to door, interviewing each of the guests. Maybe one of them had seen the McCormicks get into a car. Maybe one of them had taken notice of the car’s make and model. Maybe one of them had jotted down the car’s license plate.
“Not those neighbors,” Xana told him. “Last night. The couple who called it in.”
“The whatever-their-name was? What about them?”
“Did you get their statement?”
“Their statement? Gosh. What a great idea that would have been! No, we just clucked at them like chickens until they went back to their room. You’re so smart.”
Xana smirked. “You’re ornery when you’re tired, Detective.”
“I’m sorry. I’m really not enjoying this case. I like squares. Squares make sense. But then you got to add rhombuses and trapezoids and people think they’re more interesting because they’re different, but they’re not more interesting. They’re trying too hard. There’s nothing wrong with a
Similar Books
