The Informant Read Online Free PDF Page A

it had been warmer in Virginia this morning than in Georgia, and she hadn’t had time to check the weather before flying to Savannah, let alone pack appropriately. She’d left on a Bubird—the Bureau’s name for its own aircraft—directly from the Quantico airstrip, five minutes after taking an urgent call from her supervisor.
    “Santos, FBI,” she announced with a flash of her credentials. She was standing on the top step, just shy of the police tape. “I’m looking for Sheriff John Dutton.”
    The conversation stopped, and their stares made her mildly self-conscious. She was taller than the sheriff, but she felt much shorter standing one step below the men on the porch. They looked at her as though they might have found her attractive at a bake sale or church picnic.
    Here, however, she was definitely the intruder.
    29
    THE INFORMANT
    Sheriff Dutton stepped forward, hands resting irrever-ently on his hips. He came close enough for her to read his name bar pinned to his jacket, but he didn’t formally introduce himself. “You’re the help they sent down from Washington, I take it.”
    “Not Washington, exactly. I work out of Quantico, Virginia. Thanks for notifying us.”
    “Wasn’t my idea to notify anybody. It was the State Attorney who wanted to call in the feds. Hell if I know why—we take care of our own here.” He gave Victoria an assessing look. “I’ll just remind you once, miss, I’m the one running this investigation.”
    Less than five minutes on the scene, she thought, and already she was knee-deep in testosterone. “I fully intend to respect your authority, Sheriff. However, you should know that my reasons for being here are not casual. I’ve spent the last four months working with local law enforcement in five states on five previous murders that may be related to this one.”
    “Do say…Well, right now, this is the only murder we’re concerned about. In Hainesville, ain’t nothin’ more important than a matter of local concern.”
    “I can appreciate that.”
    “Then I hope you also appreciate that things are well under control. Crime scene’s secure. I did it myself, to reduce the chance of any disturbance. Filled out the initial report. Sketched a floor plan, took photographs and a videotape. You can look at any of that. But I’m not about to have anybody who shows up with a badge poking around inside willy-nilly.”
    “Rest assured, I want to work with you to catch this 30
    James Grippando
    killer. We can talk about the crime scene later. First, though, I’d like to see the body.”
    “It’s long gone. The body van picked it up yesterday.
    Georgia Bureau of Investigation routed it to the branch crime lab in Macon.”
    “I know, I’m on my way there. I was just hoping you’d come with me, maybe give me some background. I’m sure I could use your insights as well. Can I count on you, please?”
    She did everything short of batting her eyes, struggling to keep a straight face. With her forensic background she could practically have performed the autopsy herself, and she hardly needed a county sheriff to show her around a morgue. Politics, however, made it important at the outset to reassure the locals that they weren’t being squeezed out of their own investigation.
    “All right,” he said, seemingly disarmed. “I’ll drive.”
    In two minutes they were in the squad car, headed west on 1-16. Cunningham’s funeral home normally served as Hainesville’s morgue. The local coroner, a paramedic at Candler County Hospital, had already ruled the death suspicious, so the body had been transferred to the Georgia State Crime Lab for examination by a trained forensic pathologist. It was over an hour’s ride, mostly on interstate, so there was plenty of time for Victoria to review her notes.
    “What can you tell me about Mrs. Kincaid?” she asked, finally looking up from her sheaf of papers. The wipers squeaked across the windshield, clearing away a few slushy drops that