Silent Night Standoff. Susan SleemanЧитать онлайн книгу.
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Logan’s phone chimed. Good. A distraction before Skyler’s frustrated glare brought back memories he didn’t want to think about. He’d suspected if he ever ran into her again, she’d be testy. But after two years, he didn’t expect to see her eyes as cold as the day he’d told her he was taking the job at the FBI’s Chicago office. Not one day since then had he found the weather in the Windy City to be colder than her expression that afternoon.
His fault. He shouldn’t have gotten involved with her in the first place. Not when he was committed to reaching every milestone his FBI father had achieved, but doing so at a younger age. A relationship simply distracted him, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted.
Especially not now. If he was successful in bringing in Bonnie and Clyde by Christmas, he’d become one of the youngest agents in the bureau’s history ever promoted to assistant special agent in charge of a field office.
What father wouldn’t be proud of that accomplishment?
Logan couldn’t relax before then. Or even after. He’d still have to succeed at the job or risk losing the old man’s approval. That meant undivided focus on the work.
He glanced at his phone. His team had arrived and it was time to move this along. He turned his attention back to Skyler.
“If you won’t listen to my medical advice, Skyler,” Darcie said, “there are plenty of shell-shocked witnesses inside who will.” Though she sounded mad, Logan could see she really cared about Skyler before she marched off.
Logan waited for Marsh to follow, but he stood his ground, as if he felt a need to protect Skyler. Logan got that. Seeing both Marsh’s and Darcie’s protectiveness, he could tell the team had formed a close bond. Something Logan had no time for, and yet, when he saw this kind of camaraderie, his solitary lifestyle seemed kind of lame.
Focus, man.
He turned to Skyler. “I hate to do this, but you were in physical contact with Marty and could have contact DNA on your clothes. We’ll need to bag them before we leave.”
“You can change into Darcie’s extra scrubs in the rig,” Jake offered.
“Fine.” She looked at Logan as if she’d rather eat bugs than be this close to him. “It’ll only take me a minute to change.”
Logan ignored the way her coldness kept unsettling him and forced a cordial tone to his voice. “Take your time. My team has arrived, and I need to talk them for a minute, anyway. I’ll send a tech out with an evidence bag for your clothes.”
He headed for the lobby before he did something stupid like try to apologize to Skyler in front of Marsh. Not that Logan didn’t owe her an apology. He did. He was still certain his decision to leave had been the right one, but he was genuinely sorry he’d hurt her in the process. For that, he’d apologize when the time was right.
Now he’d do his job and do it well.
He’d only seen the lobby on the truck’s monitors, so he made a quick sweep of the place before stepping inside. Fellow agent Vince Wagner and the FBI’s Evidence Recovery Team were already processing the scene, and a privacy screen had been erected to hide Nicole’s body. The witnesses were no longer cowering on the floor by the counter but were sitting in chairs, chugging water.
Wagner glanced up, his eyes instantly narrowing as he stared at Logan. He’d gotten the same look from most of the Portland agents. Logan understood their frustration. Totally understood it. They weren’t pleased that the FBI had brought him in from another office to head up their investigation.
As far as they knew, he was there to use expertise gained on a similar robbery spree in Chicago, but it was more than that. Much more. His promotion was on the line. If he didn’t succeed, he was on his way back to Chicago. So it was time to make nice with all the players and get this done.
He crossed the room to a forensic tech named Gary who looked like a thirtysomething version of Santa Claus.
Logan gave the guy instructions to gather Skyler’s clothes, then asked for another bag to collect Faith’s clothing at the hospital. “You’ll also find a small amount of the suspect’s blood in the alley to process. I’d like all the results rushed.”
Gary snorted. “You and every other agent in the bureau. You’ll need Inman’s approval for a rush, and, even then, it’ll likely take a week or so. Maybe more with the holidays.”
He was right. The FBI lab had a backlog just like other law enforcement labs. Even with the special agent in charge of the Portland office requesting a rush, it was unlikely that the lab would move a bank robbery above homicides. It would take days for the results.
Logan held out a business card. “Mind giving me a heads-up if you find anything? I hate to wait for a report to circulate through channels when the other suspect is still on the loose.”
“You got it.” Gary pocketed the card in pants that hung below his belly. “I’ll get those bags for you.”
Logan turned to Wagner, who was watching him with tired eyes. He’d tipped his head, catching the overhead light on his bald scalp, and his lips were pursed below a graying mustache.
“Something bothering you?” Logan asked, hoping they could get any resentment out in the open and deal with it.
Wagner shook his head, but he still seemed uncomfortable with Logan’s presence. For now, Logan would respect the guy’s wishes not to talk about it. “I’ve completed a preliminary interview with Deputy Brennan and learned Bonnie and Clyde used the names Marty and Nicole when they thought no one else could hear them. I suspect those are their real names. Let’s get this information to the rest of the team ASAP so they can get started on developing any additional leads.”
“Finally, real names.” Wagner sounded relieved. “Maybe people will stop calling them Bonnie and Clyde like they’re some sort of heroes.”
“I doubt the press will ever let it go. They thrive on the sensationalism the names garner,” Logan said, then changed gears. “I’d like you to handle the scene while I transport Deputy Brennan to the hospital to check for a concussion. I’ll finish my interview on the way.” Logan didn’t wait for Wagner’s agreement but glanced at the privacy screen. “Is anyone from the medical examiner’s office here yet?”
“No.”
“When they arrive, make sure the body’s printed and swabbed for DNA.”
“And hope she has a record so we finally have a last name?”
“Exactly,” Logan said, heading for the screen. “I’ll take a quick look—then I’m out of here.”
He stepped behind it and heard Wagner stop a few feet away. At the sight of the body, Logan swallowed hard. He didn’t often deal with death in his job. He spent far more time pushing paper than anything, but Nicole wasn’t the first shooting victim he’d seen. Sadly, she wouldn’t be the last.
He squatted next to her. Not wanting to contaminate the evidence, he resisted touching her, but he did notice an odd distortion to her face.
“Check this out.” He changed angles for a better view. “See the way her nose and chin have shifted?”
Wagner bent down. “Looks fake.”
“Probably a prosthetic. Like you’d see in movie special effects. Maybe Marty or Nicole was a makeup artist. Would explain how they changed their appearance and why no one’s been able to ID them.”
“That would make sense since the first robbery took place in L.A.”
“Make sure the ME takes great care when she removes the prosthetics so she doesn’t damage them. Then get someone in the L.A. office to show them around Hollywood to see if anyone recognizes their work. And see if we can find out where the makeup supplies came from.” Logan stood. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you