Открыть фик целиком в отдельном окне
***
Connor liked the dark, especially when he was brooding, and for the last four hours he had done little else. The FBI special liaison was due on site in the morning and Peter had already left the lab. His report was perfect down to the last italic and neatly presented in its folder like a requiem to his discomfort. Connor knew that life was about to change. The question was, was he able to withstand the changes and did he want to?
He rubbed the back of his neck and tucked the reports under his arm, deciding to read them at home. Keen hearing and a sense that he was being watched proved true as he saw the light on in Anton’s room, and he decided he wanted to talk after all.
“Ah, I see you’re working late too.” Connor smiled and Anton looked up.
“I got the fax from the agencies in the southwest, seems the original hypothesis was correct. This group was in residence in all locations on or around the time a person was killed. Good call, Connor.”
“Actually it wasn’t my call, it was Peter’s.” Connor sat down opposite the over burdened desk and Anton slipped his glasses from his face, aware of the uncomfortable silence.
“Keen mind. Actually, I think Ray has a grudging respect for him, muttered something about him being a good cop.” Anton tried for levity and it fell flat in the face of Connor’s concern. The elderly psychiatrist stood and poured two coffees from the ever-filled carafe and sat back down.
“I had coffee with Peter this morning, down by the Bay.”
“I take it that it didn’t go well.”
“No, actually it went very well. Seems Peter has an inside track to this but won’t tell me what it is. I’m worried about him.”
“So am I,” Anton admitted and Connor’s head snapped up. “Ever since we saw the victim reports, he’s been more withdrawn than normal, almost to the point of being openly hostile. Whilst Peter is a passionate man, this makes very little sense.”
“Other than it’s upsetting him personally.”
“Yes, I got that as well. Mind you Peter is a physicist and not a forensic scientist, he’s normally a bit squeamish around this kind of thing.”
“To the point of being openly hostile?”
“All right, Connor, what’s on your mind?”
“Nothing really, just a feeling.”
“Yes, well, I know that look and I know you and Peter have been friends for years, so whatever is troubling you troubles me.” Anton propped his feet on his desk and loosened his tie.
“It’s nothing. I think this kind of perversion has us all spooked.” Connor smiled again, this time it almost touched his eyes, and Anton tried a different tact. There was always more than one way to get a Case Manager to talk and Anton hadn’t even begun yet.
“Probably. I really could do with Peter’s analysis on some of the chemical compounds that were found at the crime scenes. We have a signature of sorts which could make this mess easier to deal with.”
“I’m all for that.” Connor stood. “I have a date with a hot shower and some light reading.” Connor picked up his files and headed home.
Anton watched him go and frowned. He didn’t like it when Doyle was off kilter; the people who were at the heart of this were dangerous, far too dangerous to be let run loose.
***
Jarrod Petrie was by comparison an old man in the unit. His techniques were at times out dated, his attitude bordered on overtly moral, but underneath he was a good man. For the last ten years he had tracked these Knights and found no evidence to tie them to the crimes. He knew in his gut though that they were guilty and he could understand their motives, their reasons. He couldn’t condone them, of course, but nevertheless he understood and that made people feel creepy around him. The FBI put him back on the case and told him to liaise with the OSIR and the agents on site. He would have superiority but he would defer to Connor Doyle, ex-navy, current professor and Case Manager for the OSIR.
A shock of blond hair graying slightly at the temples, the jeans and T-shirt covered with a leather jacket that was his only concession to his position. Even then it was half-hearted and Connor smiled when he saw him.
“You must be Doyle.” His accent was Brooklyn and there was no attempt to hide it.
“Special Agent Petrie.” Connor extended his hand and saw the barely suppressed shudder.
“Jarrod is fine, the rest is something of a sore point at the moment. I see our little band of knights are on another crusade.”
“Strange that they have come back to Boston after nine years. They never repeat an area at all. There is something going on within the ranks.”
“You a profiler?” Jarrod asked, slightly surprised.
“No, psychologist. I read the files last night, what there was of them, and it would appear that there is a power shift, maybe a new regime.”
“Surprised that the local PD called you guys in.”
Страница 4 - 4 из 26
Начало | Пред. | 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 | След. | Конец
