Barfield looked up. “Seems to me you were asking for quite a bit more than that.”
“Actually,” Vail said, “I was. We’re talking about someone who was victimized as a young teen. And continues to be victimized as a young woman. Her father’s an asshole. And he’s a serial killer. The least we can do is try our best to make sure that Roscoe Lee Marcks doesn’t conspire with anyone to kill her. Or rape her. Or mail her any more emotionally upsetting letters. Now maybe that doesn’t fall under your job description as warden, but it falls under your job description as a decent human being.”
Barfield grinned a broad, toothy smile. “Well, thank you, kindly, Agent Vail, for that inspirational kick in the rear. I’ll take it under advisement. Now y’all have a safe trip back home. Be sure and come back again real soon.”
“THAT WENT EXCEEDINGLY WELL,” Curtis said as they walked back to their car. “Don’t you agree?”
Yeah. Exceedingly well.
“You’ve lived in Virginia how many years?”
Vail squinted at the overcast sky. “Uh, I don’t know, about ten.”
“And you still don’t understand southerners? Aren’t you ever going to lose that New York aggressiveness?”
Vail fished out her car keys. “You know what they say.”
Curtis grunted. “I know what I say. Shove it up your ass if you can’t adapt. And take your Yankee ass back to New York.”
Vail popped open her door and fell into the seat. “I was thinking more like, ‘You can take the woman out of New York but you can’t take New York out of the woman.’”
Curtis reached for his seatbelt. “I think that’s what exorcisms are for.”
9
Vail walked into her house and her chocolate brown standard poodle, Hershey, ran to the door, wagging his tail and holding a pair of her underwear and one of Robby’s socks in his mouth. He jumped up to greet her, spit out the garments, and plastered her face with kisses.
“I missed you too, boy,” she said, twisting her head to the side as she tried to talk without getting a wet tongue across her lips. “C’mon, let’s go out.”
Vail headed toward the side door, which led to the dog run. As she pulled it open, Hershey forced his way through and ran to his favorite spot to pee.
She grabbed a scoop of dog food and started back into the kitchen when her phone vibrated. She brought it to her face as she dumped the lamb kibble in the stainless steel bowl. “Hey Jasmine, how’s—”
“Someone was here, in the house.”
“How—are you there now?”
“I just got home and the side garage door was open. And then I heard a car door slam and I ran to the window and saw a beat-up old Toyota or Honda driving away.”
Awesome. That narrows it down to only a few million vehicles.
“Did you get a license plate?”
“No, I—I ran inside and called you.”
“Okay, get back in your car and go somewhere safe—get a coffee at Starbucks. It’ll be busy. I want you around people. I’ll call Detective Curtis, have him check your place out, make sure it’s clear, okay?”
“Yeah. I’m—I’m just … this isn’t like me but I’m …” She took a breath. “You know what? Forget it, I’m fine.”
“It’s okay to be scared. Do what I said. We’ll get this sorted out. I’ll call you back soon.”
Vail let Hershey in as she dialed Curtis. It went to voice mail and she left him a message to meet her at Jasmine’s, then headed out to Bethesda.
It was the tail end of rush hour and the last thing she wanted to do was get slowed by traffic. Her stomach was rumbling and her back was sore, having spent the better part of the day on the road. Though not standard issue, Vail had picked up a portable magnetic auxiliary light a few years ago for situations such as this. After affixing it to her roof, she was able to work her way through the congestion.
While en route, Vail called the Fairfax Police Department’s PSTOC—Public Safety and Transportation Operations Center—and had Curtis pulled out of an interview room. He was not sure how soon he could make it to Jasmine’s house, but he requested that a patrol car and a crime scene unit be dispatched.
Vail texted Jasmine and told her that both she and the police were en route. When she arrived on scene thirty-five minutes later, an officer had cleared the house and was waiting outside with Jasmine.
“I told you to go to Starbucks.”
“I did. But when I got your text I turned around and came home. The police were already at my front door.”
The crime scene technician opened his toolbox and pulled out gloves and booties. He tossed a handful to Vail, who gave a pair of the blue shoe covers to Jasmine. “Slip these on.”
“What for?” she asked as she knelt to pull them over her tennis shoes.
“To preserve the crime scene.”
Jasmine looked up from her crouch. “Crime scene? My house?”
“Anything missing?”
“I don’t know. I did what you said, left right away.”