The Soul Collectors by Chris Mooney

Author:Chris Mooney [Mooney, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780141961668
Publisher: Penguin Publishing
Published: 2010-08-18T12:00:00+00:00

44

The door banged against the wall with enough force to leave a mark. Darby didn’t flinch. She sat still, her blood cooling.

Jack Casey was much older than the man she’d just seen in the pictures; he’d gone from the young Clint Eastwood to the older but still good-looking and still intimidating Clint: face weathered and wrinkled from too many years spent toiling in the sun; grey hair cut short and receding a bit around the temples. Casey was the same height as Coop, somewhere in the neighbourhood of six five, and, despite his age, the former profiler packed an amazing amount of solid muscle. The man looked as if he could lift a small car without breaking a sweat.

‘You,’ Casey said, pointing to Coop. ‘Get out.’

Darby said, ‘He stays, Mr Casey. Or should I call you Special Agent Casey?’

The man’s gaze narrowed, surprised either that she knew his name or that she had the audacity to go up against his orders. Casey made his way to her, slowly, and when he reached her chair, he stared down at her, scowling. Unlike Army Boy Billy Fitzgerald, aka Special Agent Sergey Martynovich, the Secret Service agents and other men she’d met who had tried to intimidate her with their tough-guy glares, Casey was the real deal. He was struggling to maintain his composure.

Good, she thought. That gave her a tactical advantage. Angry people didn’t think clearly. They made mistakes. They spilled secrets and painted themselves into corners.

‘McCormick, right?’

‘That’s me.’

Casey put one hand on her chair arm. The other gripped the edge of the desk. He had big hands. Tanned, but rough and callused. A carpenter, maybe. Some sort of trade.

His brown leather jacket was unzipped, and when he leaned into her, she caught a glimpse of the shoulder holster. If he was back working with the feds, he certainly wasn’t dressing like one: jeans, a black T-shirt and work boots.

‘Listen to me carefully, sweetheart.’ His voice trembled, struggling to speak clearly over his mounting rage. ‘There are two federal agents posted outside this room. You are going to go with them. You are going to sit down with them and answer every one of their questions. If you give them any lip this time, if you so much as accidentally rub up against one, I am personally going to jam an obstruction of justice charge so far up your ass that you won’t see daylight again.’

Darby sighed.

‘It’s a good threat. Honestly, it is.’ Her voice was calm, a fact that irritated Casey. His crimson-coloured face, growing darker by the second, looked like it was going to explode off his shoulders. ‘One small problem, though. You’re going to have to put me in front of a judge, and you and I both know you don’t want a judge or anyone else to know about this secret little investigation you’re running – especially now, given your negligence.’

‘My what?’

‘Your negligence. Your people neglected to tell me that this cult or whoever they are would be following my every move.

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