“Is that what you heard?”
“That’s what I was told.”
She shouldn’t have been surprised that Kunze would characterize the incident as her fault.
“What exactly did my boss tell you?”
“I won’t tell you his exact words because I don’t use that kind of language in front of a lady, but I believe the gist of what he said was that you screwed up. Didn’t see it coming.”
“I didn’t see it coming?”
Maggie couldn’t believe it. How dare Kunze blame her for a killer’s unpredictable behavior. And to suggest it publicly to someone outside the bureau. What would be next? Saying that it was her negligence that made him fire his own gun three times into the killer? The first shot had been enough to stop him. Maggie wondered if the head shot that splattered her with the killer’s brains had simply been overkill to do just that—splatter her.
“Did he even tell you what happened?”
“Maybe you should tell me what happened.”
“Or my version. Isn’t that what you’re really saying?”
“Hey, I’m on your side, O’Dell.” He held his hands up in surrender then dropped them back to the steering wheel. “If I believed anything Kunze said you wouldn’t be on this road trip with me.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“You know what, it doesn’t even matter what happened. You found the son of a bitch, right? And now he’s out of commission. From what I read in last week’s newspapers there were a few body parts involved in that case, too.”
She waited for him to make the same inference Tully had—that somehow she’d become an expert in murders that included body parts. Wurth glanced at her.
“As far as I’m concerned,” he said, “you did us all a favor.”
Maggie settled into the oversize captain seat, tucking a bare foot underneath her, looking out the window, but her mind returned to yesterday’s bizarre shooting. They had tracked down and found … no, that wasn’t right. She had tracked down and found the killer’s torture chamber—a deserted warehouse near the Potomac.
For Maggie it brought back memories of another killer she had caught many years ago. Sometimes she worried that all the killers she had come in contact with were morphing together. That Assistant Director Kunze had shot and killed this one didn’t even bother her. She agreed with Wurth. It meant another monster wouldn’t be hurting another innocent victim. That she didn’t predict he would be there, who cared?
She had dug deep enough into his psyche to figure out where he hid, where he kept his dirty little secret life. Shouldn’t that have been enough? Why had Kunze expected her to read his mind? Didn’t Kunze realize that to dig deeper meant inching her way too close to the edge? Or maybe that was exactly what Kunze wanted. To shove her and see if she’d fall.
CHAPTER 13
PENSACOLA BEACH
Liz Bailey downed her second Red Bull. She checked and rechecked the flight equipment then packed it back where it belonged. She had already gone over medical equipment piece by piece, even though they hadn’t used anything yesterday. She was bored, only it was worse, waiting and knowing, the calm before the storm. Staying alert while staying put and waiting.
In their briefing this morning they were told to prepare to be on emergency standby for the rest of the week. She could see the waves from her post, churning and bucking against the seawall. Surfers were out before she arrived. She knew they’d be here until authorities made them leave and closed the beach. And they’d grumble about leaving, their eyes glazed over with adrenaline. You just didn’t get waves like the ones that came right before a hurricane.
Several of the hotels had started encouraging guests to check out, but the beach was still packed with tourists. Other than the waves there was no indication of a storm, the sky still cloudless and blue, the sun baking the white sand. The last August days before vacations ended for another year. Why would anyone believe they needed to leave this paradise and go home early?