wouldn’t let himself get conned, but he was known to turn his head toward a pretty face. Why, dammit? Why had Scout been killed? Jack mentally reviewed their most recent assignments. He didn’t know of anyone or any organization who would do this . . . like this. It looked both personal and like an execution. Had Scout known his killer?
Perez said, “You need to leave. My men will process the scene, collect evidence, and remove the body.”
Hidalgo had its unfair share of murders—Perez had investigated enough of them—but this was wholly different from a drug hit or a barroom brawl. Not something Art Perez could handle. Hell, he could barely handle being chief of police on a good day.
“Call the Rangers,” Jack said before he thought about tact and diplomacy. “This isn’t a random act of violence.”
Perez reddened. “Don’t tell me how to do my job, Kincaid.”
“Jack—” Padre began, and Jack put up his hand.
Jack would find Scout’s killer. He would call in every favor, every chit, spend every dime he had to do it.
“I will find out who killed Scout,” he said, his words clipped to stifle the emotion.
“Stay out of my way, Kincaid. You’re already pushing it. Don’t think I won’t lock you up. Just give me a reason. One fucking reason to put you behind bars.”
Jack stepped forward and said in a low voice, “I’ll be watching, Perez. Don’t fuck this up.”
Jack looked back at Scout’s body. Rage and sadness battled and his teeth clenched.
“Rest in peace, friend.”
When I find who did this to you, they won’t walk away.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Wednesday morning, less than two hours after she had opened the overnight envelope, Megan sat in SAC Bob Richardson’s office with two other agents, Detective John Black, and the speaker phone. Richardson had contacted Assistant Special Agent in Charge Hans Vigo at Quantico. Hans had been a friend and mentor to Megan since he’d recruited her into the FBI while guest lecturing at Georgetown, where she’d been studying law. Hans was a profiler, though he had declined a post in the prestigious Behavioral Science Unit. He was often sent out into the field to consult, and Megan had immediately thought of him when Price’s dog tag fell from the express envelope. This murder had taken on a whole new importance.
She’d finished briefing Hans about the case as she knew it, with the only known connection among the three victims being their time in the army. “Bob has made a request with the DOD to pull their military records, but you know how slow they are. By the time we get them, if at all, more people could die.”
“Will die,” Hans said. “Three dead in two months. The first victim was on February 11. The second on April 2. Price early on April 13.”
“They’re escalating,” Richardson said.
“Possibly, but more likely they have a plan. They are exceptionally well-organized for sadistic killers.”
“Sadistic? Is there a sexual component in the murders? There was no evidence of that at any of the crime scenes.” Megan pulled out her reports, worried that she had missed something important.
“Sadistic doesn’t necessarily mean sexual gratification, though the killers likely received sexual gratification either in the planning of the murders or after the fact. The actual murders were methodical, well-planned, but at the same time reckless.”
“Non sequitur, Dr. Vigo,” Richardson interjected.
“Bear with me, Bob. Let’s look at the actual murders. Two people come together to kill a specific target—their victims are not random, they were selected because of who they are or what they represent. Victimology in this case is critical: if they were killed because of something they did or didn’t do, it’ll be much easier to identify potential suspects, particularly if all three victims were involved in the same event. If they were killed because of what they represent—the military, or the army specifically—it will be more
Perez said, “You need to leave. My men will process the scene, collect evidence, and remove the body.”
Hidalgo had its unfair share of murders—Perez had investigated enough of them—but this was wholly different from a drug hit or a barroom brawl. Not something Art Perez could handle. Hell, he could barely handle being chief of police on a good day.
“Call the Rangers,” Jack said before he thought about tact and diplomacy. “This isn’t a random act of violence.”
Perez reddened. “Don’t tell me how to do my job, Kincaid.”
“Jack—” Padre began, and Jack put up his hand.
Jack would find Scout’s killer. He would call in every favor, every chit, spend every dime he had to do it.
“I will find out who killed Scout,” he said, his words clipped to stifle the emotion.
“Stay out of my way, Kincaid. You’re already pushing it. Don’t think I won’t lock you up. Just give me a reason. One fucking reason to put you behind bars.”
Jack stepped forward and said in a low voice, “I’ll be watching, Perez. Don’t fuck this up.”
Jack looked back at Scout’s body. Rage and sadness battled and his teeth clenched.
“Rest in peace, friend.”
When I find who did this to you, they won’t walk away.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Wednesday morning, less than two hours after she had opened the overnight envelope, Megan sat in SAC Bob Richardson’s office with two other agents, Detective John Black, and the speaker phone. Richardson had contacted Assistant Special Agent in Charge Hans Vigo at Quantico. Hans had been a friend and mentor to Megan since he’d recruited her into the FBI while guest lecturing at Georgetown, where she’d been studying law. Hans was a profiler, though he had declined a post in the prestigious Behavioral Science Unit. He was often sent out into the field to consult, and Megan had immediately thought of him when Price’s dog tag fell from the express envelope. This murder had taken on a whole new importance.
She’d finished briefing Hans about the case as she knew it, with the only known connection among the three victims being their time in the army. “Bob has made a request with the DOD to pull their military records, but you know how slow they are. By the time we get them, if at all, more people could die.”
“Will die,” Hans said. “Three dead in two months. The first victim was on February 11. The second on April 2. Price early on April 13.”
“They’re escalating,” Richardson said.
“Possibly, but more likely they have a plan. They are exceptionally well-organized for sadistic killers.”
“Sadistic? Is there a sexual component in the murders? There was no evidence of that at any of the crime scenes.” Megan pulled out her reports, worried that she had missed something important.
“Sadistic doesn’t necessarily mean sexual gratification, though the killers likely received sexual gratification either in the planning of the murders or after the fact. The actual murders were methodical, well-planned, but at the same time reckless.”
“Non sequitur, Dr. Vigo,” Richardson interjected.
“Bear with me, Bob. Let’s look at the actual murders. Two people come together to kill a specific target—their victims are not random, they were selected because of who they are or what they represent. Victimology in this case is critical: if they were killed because of something they did or didn’t do, it’ll be much easier to identify potential suspects, particularly if all three victims were involved in the same event. If they were killed because of what they represent—the military, or the army specifically—it will be more
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