Gallery of the Dead

Fifty-Six

Hunter, Garcia and both FBI agents had just returned to the observation room when Agent Williams received the callback from the FBI field office in Phoenix.

‘Great,’ he said into his cellphone after listening for all of ten seconds. ‘Just email me the lot.’ Once he disconnected he turned and addressed the rest of the group. ‘It’s a match.’ With a head gesture he indicated the man on the other side of the two-way mirror. ‘We are indeed looking at one Owen Henderson — thirty-six years old from Phoenix. He also didn’t lie about his address or profession. Right now, I have two agents on the way to his house. In the meantime, I should be getting an email with all his basic info any second now.’

‘Fine,’ Agent Fisher said, leaning against one of the corners of the table at the center of the room and looking at Hunter. ‘But you’re not giving this sack of shit any deals. You do not have the authority to do so. Not without Director Kennedy’s explicit authorization.’

‘I know,’ Hunter replied with an accepting nod.

Before Agent Fisher could say anything else Garcia jumped in.

‘There will be no deals, Special Agent Fisher.’ Garcia’s words came out slower than usual just to emphasize that he was stating the obvious. ‘He played us,’ he explained, but immediately took a second to rethink his words and decided to add a little dig. ‘Actually, he played you, but that’s beside the point. Now we play him.’

‘Screw you,’ she replied. ‘He didn’t play me.’

‘Nevertheless,’ Garcia said. ‘Even if we don’t give him anything, the rabbit is out of the hole now. There’s no way we’ll be able to keep a lid on this story anymore. So, before he or any other reporter comes up with a bullshit article about a brand-new serial killer who has claimed victims in four different states, I would suggest calling a press conference in the next day or two and feeding the press the story we want them to publicize. That’s the only way we’ll have any control over this now.’

Agent Fisher exchanged a new look with her FBI partner. They both knew Garcia was right.

‘I’ll give Director Kennedy a call in the morning,’ Agent Williams said.

‘Do you mind if I go back in there to talk to him?’ Hunter asked.

‘Since you were the one who offered him the bogus deal,’ Agent Williams replied, ‘it’s only logical that you do the talking.’

They all looked at Agent Fisher.

‘Fine,’ she said bitterly. ‘Someone else would have to do it anyway, because if I go back in there, I will slap that silly smirk off his idiot face.’

‘OK,’ Hunter said. ‘I’ll be right back.’

Before Hunter got to the door, it was pushed open by Special Agent Mike Brandon. He brought with him a tray with five steaming cups of coffee.

‘I thought these would come in handy,’ he said, placing the tray on the table.

‘Damn straight,’ Garcia said, reaching for a cup. Special Agents Williams and Fisher followed.

‘We’ll have the photographs from his camera in about half an hour,’ Agent Brandon announced, as he dropped four cubes of white sugar into his cup. ‘I also just got a call from Dr. Morgan,’ he continued, stirring the sugar into the coffee. ‘He’s done with the autopsy, but he needs to know if we’ll be dropping by the morgue tonight still, or in the morning.’

Hunter checked his watch. ‘This won’t take long. Ten minutes, max.’

‘Call him back,’ Agent Williams told Agent Brandon. ‘Tell him to please wait. We’ll be there in a tick or two.’