The lab was a modern, freestanding facility down the road from the Academy constructed a dozen years ago. By the time the FBI was ready to move in, it had outgrown the building.
She found Meadows sitting on a stool peering into a microscope. Music was blasting from an iPod paired wirelessly with a speaker. She approached from behind and tickled his back with a finger. He startled and nearly fell off the seat.
She pressed “stop” and laughed. “Sorry, you had that thing turned up so loud I didn’t think you’d hear me.”
“Thank your buddies Uzi and DeSantos for that. I still haven’t regained my hearing completely after that explosion.”
“That was, what, three years ago? Hate to tell you, Tim, but it’s not coming back.”
Meadows frowned. “When did you get your medical degree, Dr. Vail?”
She raised a hand in contrition. “You’re right. I apologize again. I just figured, three years, you know? It’s done healing. What’d your doctor say?”
“He told me my hearing loss is just that: a loss. It ain’t coming back.”
Vail looked at him.
“I’m not ready to accept it. I’m taking some kind of herbal tincture my friend stirred up.” He leaned in close. “It’s got cannabis in it. Some specially grown strain to help the auditory nerve. Said it’ll help.”
“I thought you were a man of science.”
“I’m willing to try anything.” He pressed “play” on the iPod and glanced back at her. “No, I don’t mean that literally.”
Vail pressed “stop” again. “I’m not here to visit.”
“Of course not, because that’s what a friend would do.”
“Tim, I’m hurt.”
“No you’re not.”
Vail could not help but smile. “No, I’m not. But I do miss mixing it up with you.”
“Well, get to it, Karen. I was in the middle of one of my favorite songs. Not to mention one tough case. What do you got for me?”
“Something easy.” She unfurled the letter from the envelope.
“What the hell is that, some preschooler’s scribble?”
“Try again.”
He took the paper and glanced at it. “Oh, don’t tell me you were playing forensic scientist again. You’ve gotta stop watching that CSI bullshit. You know it’s bullshit, right?”
“Why, because you can’t solve every case in fifty-nine minutes?”
“Don’t get me started.”
Vail gestured at the paper. “This was sent by Roscoe Lee Marcks. To his daughter.”
“And why are we handling this without gloves?”
“There’s no case.”
“You sure of that?” He lifted an eyebrow.
Vail felt perspiration beading on her forehead. “No. But I can track the letter in other ways. Through the prison. They scan incoming and outgoing mail unless it’s from, or going to, an inmate’s attorney.”
“Let’s first see if we’ve got something to be concerned about. What do you want to know?”
“It appeared to be a blank piece of paper. But now it looks like there’s something written there.”
“Hmm. You can see that through the mess you made scribbling with that crayon?”
“Pencil.”
“Whatever.” He shooed her away and hit “play” on his iPod. “Now go and leave me for an hour. I’ll do my thing and text you when I’ve got something.”
Vail was gone only twenty minutes—she had run into a friend on her way down the stairs and never made it out of the building—when Meadows’s message came through:
you shoulda worn gloves
5
Vail ran up the steps and jogged into the lab. The music was off. Meadows had a stern face.
“You were able to get something?” she asked, pushing her shoulders back to force air into her lungs.
“No thanks to you. Not only did I use ALS,” he said, referring to Alternative Light Source, “I used oblique lighting. But the pièce de résistance was ESDA.”
“ESDA?”
Meadows grinned. “Another thing up my sleeve. Electrostatic Detection Apparatus. It creates an invisible electrostatic image that becomes visible when I apply charge-sensitive toners.”
“Impressive.”
“Except now you’re gonna have to explain to your ASAC how you screwed this one up,” he said, referring to her Assistant Special Agent in Charge. “Not to mention your unit chief. You’ve got a new one, I hear. Some … goddess named Di—”
“Yeah, just my luck.” Vail drew in another deep breath and gestured to the LCD screen in front of them. “What’d you find?”
“A message. If it really came from Roscoe Lee Marcks, you’re going to have to get some answers to figure out what it means. And verify that he actually sent this. Because there aren’t any latents worth talking about other than yours and Jasmine Marcks’s. We’ve got hers on file from when we had to rule hers out in the house when Fairfax County PD was drafting the arrest warrant for her father.”
“What’d the message say? How long are you planning to keep me in suspense?”
Meadows made a point of checking his watch. “I guess this is long enough.” He turned an LCD screen toward her and she saw the words:
Remember what happened to Sparky?
“Do we know what happened to Sparky?”