“When the police came to your door to arrest him, what was that like?”
Jasmine hesitated a moment, looked up again, searching for an answer, the bright white lights reflecting off tears pooling in her lower lids. She came off as articulate, honest, and photogenic: an athletic blonde with Nordic features. Easy to promote, easier to book on TV, with a compelling story.
“I went through a range of emotions. Shock. Anger at the police for getting it wrong—I mean, he’d killed a lot more people since I first went to them. Then there was betrayal—I mean, Roscoe Lee Marcks, my father, my dad, the man who tucked me in at night and gave me hugs and kisses, really was a serial killer. He murdered people. Lots of people. And he wasn’t just any serial killer. He was the Blood Lines killer, a man who kidnapped women and men, tossed them into a panel van, tortured them, reviving them repeatedly, before slicing their bodies and cutting off their genitalia.” Her voice caught and she looked down.
Sabotini tilted her head in mock empathy, bit her bottom lip, and waited for Jasmine to compose herself.
Jasmine looked up and dabbed at her teary eyes. She cleared her throat. “It’s hard to explain what it feels like knowing that this coldhearted, brutal killer was my loving father. You start thinking, Why didn’t he kill me? Was I ever in danger? When he got mad at me when I broke his favorite watch, was I—was he thinking of killing me?”
Vail glanced at the clock. They were due for a commercial break and then the focus of the show would pivot to her. She could not wait; Jasmine looked stressed and needed the interview to end.
“At first I had a tough time accepting it,” Jasmine said. “But when Detective Curtis came to my house with Agent Underwood and they started going through things, what they knew, the type of person they were looking for, it sounded like a match for my father. That’s when I realized it was not going to end well.”
Vail snorted. Depends on your perspective. It certainly did not end well for Roscoe Lee Marcks.
2
Ninety minutes later Vail walked into her office in Aquia, Virginia. Her boss, Assistant Special Agent in Charge Thomas Gifford, was chatting in the hallway with her new unit chief, Stacey DiCarlo.
“How’d she do?” Gifford asked.
“The host really laid into her, asked some tough, very direct questions. Not exactly what she needed. I took care of it. She backed off but it was still emotionally trying.”
“And I still think this hand-holding is a waste of Bureau resources,” DiCarlo said.
Vail had been through this with her multiple times during the days leading up to the interview and did not feel like getting into it again.
“The reason for having Agent Vail there,” Gifford said, “was to support our mandate to educate the public on staying safe. Not to hand-hold a witness.”
Hmm, an assist from an unlikely source.
“I still don’t think it’s a good use of our time,” DiCarlo said. “Or taxpayer money.”
Gifford shoved both hands into the pockets of his slacks and rocked back on his heels. “Your concerns are noted. Thanks for your input.”
DiCarlo frowned, then turned and huffed off down the hall. Gifford gestured with his chin for Vail to follow him into his office. On the way in, Vail nodded at Lenka, Gifford’s assistant, and took a seat.
“How do you like your new unit chief?”
Vail glanced around. “Is this a trick question, sir?”
He threw out his hands. “Just trying to take the pulse of the unit.”
“We think she’s an asshole. She knows nothing about criminal investigative analysis and wouldn’t know a valid profile if it struck her in the face. And I’ve been tempted, let me tell you.”
“Tempted?”
“To strike her in the face.”
Gifford struggled to subdue his smile. “Off the record, she wouldn’t have been my first choice to lead the unit. But … well, you know.”
Vail tilted her head. “Know what?”
“We’re supposed to increase the female head count. And with the success they’ve had with you, they’re not only less reluctant to do so but they feel confident it’ll work out well.”
Smile and nod, Karen. That was a compliment.
“It’s about the person, not the gender,” she said. “Best person for the job, that’s what matters. Sometimes that’s a woman. Sometimes it’s a man. But yeah, I think we do need more women in the BAU. We bring things to the table you men don’t.”
“I agree—but don’t give Agent DiCarlo a hard time, okay? Let’s give her a chance to find her legs.”
Vail looked at him.
“Is that too much to ask?”
Maybe.
“That was not a rhetorical question, Agent Vail.”
“Are you going to call me ‘Agent Vail’ when I’m your daughter-in-law? Just curious.”
“In the office? Absolutely. Well, to your face, that is. You don’t want to know what I call you when you’re not around.”