“Never a dull moment,” Prati said. “I’m sure Robby can attest to that.”
“No kidding. Law enforcement’s a tough career for a family.” She picked up the bottle of wine and began refilling Prati’s and Robby’s glasses, then poured one for herself. “Between his work with DEA and mine with the Bureau, we have to work to make time for each other.”
“And I can attest to that,” Jonathan said. “Like today.”
Vail blushed. “Sorry, sweetie. Not how I envisioned it going. But I really had no choice.” She turned to Prati. “I was giving a talk to one of Jonathan’s criminal justice classes when all hell broke loose. Marcks escaped, a police officer who was guarding his daughter was murdered—and both calls came through at the same time … about a minute or two into my talk.” She placed a hand on Jonathan’s. “We’ll get it rescheduled, I promise.”
He grinned slyly. “It was kind of cool, actually.”
“Cool?” Robby asked as he set bowls of broccolini, sautéed spinach, and kale/beet salad on the table.
“Everyone could kind of figure out there was something serious going down. It was a bit dramatic. Especially when you dropped the F-bomb in front of the class.”
Robby covered his eyes and shook his head.
“It sounds worse than it was,” Vail said, giving Jonathan a disapproving glance. “Everybody, eat up.” She started passing around the dishes and unfurled her napkin. “Robby tells me you guys went to the same college in LA?”
Prati swirled his wine glass. “When he called me to help you out on that domestic bombing case a couple of months ago, I googled him, just to see who I was dealing with. I realized we both went to UCLA. A few years apart, but we had some of the same classes. And instructors.”
“From there you went into the DEA?”
“My degree was in chemical engineering. Then I did an internship with Dow and realized I didn’t want a career in corporate or research work. Too boring for my taste. But someone at Dow mentioned there was a need for chemists in law enforcement.” Prati set a spoonful of broccolini on his plate. “Started out with Florida Department of Law Enforcement, then hooked on with ATF.”
“ATF,” Vail said. “Impressive. What’s the hire rate, 5 percent of applicants?”
“I think it’s even lower. No question I was fortunate. The six years I spent with them was an important six years. Learned a hell of a lot about arson, explosives, firearms trafficking—and the criminal elements that play in those sandboxes. The most eye-opening experience was the training I got at the fire research lab in Beltsville.”
“What’s a fire research lab?” Jonathan asked.
Prati chuckled. “A place where people go to play with fire. Seriously, it’s a huge facility dedicated to the study of fire. Fire scientists use every imaginable piece of high-tech instrumentation to measure heat release rate, burn rate, something called heat flux, and a bunch of other things important in forensic reconstruction of fire-related crimes. Only one like it in the world. They even construct actual buildings and re-create an arson scene that they videotape to demonstrate burn patterns for investigation and court testimony.”
“I’d love to check that out,” Robby said.
“I can probably get you a tour. Just stay away from the dead pigs.”
“Is that a joke?” Vail asked.
Prati laughed. “Pigs have the same makeup of skin, fat content, and body mass as we do, so the scientists use them to simulate the burning of a human body. Those studies helped me break the last case I worked for ATF. A string of arsons that ultimately turned out to be crime concealment fires.”
“We’ve got one of those right now at the BAU,” Vail said.
“They can be tough, especially if the arsonist is good.”
“Still getting info on the other crime scenes but it definitely looks serial.”
“Can you pass the chicken?” Robby asked. “Which case is this?”
Vail lifted the serving dish to her left and handed it to him. “Not one of mine. It’s Art Rooney’s. But we’ve got those Wednesday presentations where we put our heads together, help each other out.”
“I’ll have some of that, too,” Jonathan said, receiving the platter from Robby. “I assume a crime concealment fire is what it sounds like?”
“Pretty much,” Prati said. “Killer sets fires to cover his tracks. It’s a way to destroy any evidence they inadvertently left behind. Like if they touched things without realizing it. This way, they get rid of everything and don’t have to worry about it.”
“But they have to know a fire like that will attract attention,” Ryan said. “Obviously the fire department’s gonna be all over it.”