The Bone Chamber Read Online Free PDF Page B

her bag on the twin bed, then shut and boltedthe door behind her, slipping her phone from her belt and calling her former partner, Tony Carillo, back in San Francisco. He answered on the second ring, his voice sounding as though she’d woken him. She glanced at the clock, after two A.M . Eastern time.
    “Sorry,” she said, then looked around the room, taking stock of the spartan surroundings. “Just missing everyone back home. How are you?”
    A slight hesitation. “Fine. Everything okay?”
    “Yeah, yeah. Just trying to unwind. You know. If I can’t sleep, why should you,” she said, walking into the bathroom, closing the door. She checked the door leading to the dorm room on the other side, made sure it was empty, told herself she was just being paranoid, then locked it, before turning the shower on full force, trying to keep her voice low. “You ever hear of a guy named Zachary Griffin? Special Agent?”
    “For the Bureau?”
    “So it seems. Do me a favor. Find out what you can on the guy? Code Two,” she said, giving the old cop term for “without delay.”
    “Yeah, sure. What’s going on?”
    “Other than they’ve got me locked up with this drawing tighter than an alchemist’s formula for gold at Fort Knox? I haven’t the foggiest. Call you tomorrow.”
    She hung up, thought about calling Tasha to find out what she could offer on the case, but realized it was too late, she’d be in bed. Then again, Sydney could leave a message on her voice mail at her office, and called that number instead. When she heard the doctor’s voice mail kick in, she said, “Hey, Tasha. This is about that case I recommended you for. Give me a call on my cell. I have a couple questions. Oh, and if you’re free tomorrow, let’s do a late lunch, before I fly back to San Francisco.”
    That done, she turned off the shower, exited the bathroom, tossed the phone on the bed, then began a top-to-bottom search of the room, finding nothing, and telling herself that she really was being paranoid if she thought they’d go to the trouble of placing a bug in her room when all she was here to do was a drawing.
    The next morning, as she dressed in her running clothes, she decided her paranoia was merely a result of being tired, until she opened her door at ten A.M . and found Special Agent Griffin standing there as if he’d been waiting outside her room all morning. Then again, maybe there was some camera or listening device hidden somewhere. She almost laughed at the direction of her thoughts, then stepped into the hallway. He gave a questioning look at the sweats she wore.
    “Sorry,” she said, with an apologetic shrug. “I’m not doing anything before I get in my run, then eat breakfast.”
    “You can run after you finish.”
    “My brain functions better this way,” she said, trying to keep her annoyance at bay. She failed. “And unless you want to jog along beside me and hold up that sketchbook, or you feel like employing another sketch artist, you’ll have to wait.”
    She double-checked that her cell phone was clipped to the waist of her sweatpants, then swept past him. “Lock the door behind you,” she said, since there was nothing of interest in her things, in case he was so inclined to search through them.
    Outside, the air was crisp, cool, but not too cold, even with the snow. Truth be told, she enjoyed the vast parklike grounds and the woods that surrounded Quantico’s academy, and missed the fireflies in the summer. What she didn’t miss was the summer humidity, she thought, choosing a path that led into the trees, away, she hoped, from prying eyes and ears, and allowing some shelter against the light, but melting snow. About ten minutes out, she slowed her pace, and phoned Carillo.
    The first thing out of his mouth was, “What the hell are you working on?”
    “Why?”
    “I’m having a hard time finding any info on this guy. He seem familiar with the academy? Maybe he’s some muckety-muck investigator with