The informant by James Grippando

Author:James Grippando [Grippando, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Mystery fiction, Suspense, Thrillers, Women Sleuths, Serial murders, Detective and mystery stories, Journalists, Government investigators, Miami (Fla.), Women detectives, Journalists - Florida - Miami, Government investigators - United States, Women detectives - United States
ISBN: 9780061012204
Publisher: New York : Avon Books, [2002], c1996.
Published: 1997-06-18T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

It took several hours for the Fairfax County Sheriff to request assistance from the FBI, but by midafternoon Victoria finally got her orders. She drove right from her office in Quantico to the busy crime scene in McLean. Overcast skies darkened the brown winter landscape in the day's waning moments. Two county sheriff cars were parked across the street from the redbrick house with the brown shingle roof. A deputy with a flashlight was directing traffic, both cars and pedestrians, keeping the rubberneckers moving along. A van marked FAIRFAX COUNTY CORONER'S OFFICE was blocking the driveway. Victoria parked her Oldsmobile at the curb, just on the other side of the bright fluorescent police tape that marked off the front lawn. She flashed her credentials to the deputy on the street. He directed her to the sheriff, who was standing by the coroner's van. Victoria buttoned her coat and approached him directly, but cordially.

"Victoria Santos," she said, extending her hand. "FBI"

"Sheriff Woodson," he said brusquely, "busy as hell." The baritone voice matched his heavyset frame. He had a clean-shaven, clean-cut look, right down to his polished shoes, pressed pants. Victoria guessed he was ex-military, probably a Vietnam vet. He turned away, returning his focus to the crime scene diagram on his clipboard.

She moved closer, glancing over his shoulder. "You've marked off a fairly large crime scene for a homicide that took place inside the house. Was the victim abducted outside and brought inside?"

His nose stayed in his clipboard. "Maybe."

She smiled to herself. Another local sheriff who isn't about to be overrun by the FBI. "I hear there may be a witness," she said.

He flipped the page and scribbled in the margin. "Maybe. The victim was Pamela Barnes, a thirty- three-year-old divorced mother who lived with her eleven-year-old-son, Alex. The boy wasn't hurt. The killer locked him in the closet, drugged him."

"What kind of drug?"

"Blood test showed ketamine. Special K is what they call it on the street."

"I know. It's an animal tranquilizer. I'm beginning to think our killer may have some veterinary training, or at least some connection with animals. That's the second time we've seen that same drug."

The sheriff looked up from his clipboard, showing his first sign of interest. "Where'd you see it before?"

"We had a similar situation out in San Francisco-- the Timothy Copeland murder. The killer drugged the victim's roommate and put him in the closet. Unfortunately, Copeland's roommate didn't remember a thing."

The sheriff tucked the clipboard under his arm. "Well, this may be a little different situation."

"How's that?"

"The boy seems to remember something."

Her heart thumped. "What does he say?"

"At this point he's basically incoherent. Which is understandable--he's pretty traumatized. But I think he knows a lot more than he's able to tell. A lot more than he probably wants to remember. The question is how to draw him out of his shell."

She thought for a moment, then her eyes lit with an idea. "I know just the right person to help you with that. One of the polygraph agents in Washington is a friend of mine.

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