cyanide would do the trick. Eat through the stomach lining in no time.”
The bag held one ordinary red-and-white capsule. Maggie could easily see the manufacturer’s name stamped on the side. Though intended to be an over-the-counter headache medication, someone had replaced the contents, using the capsule as a convenient container.
“So they were well prepared for suicide.”
“Yeah, I’d say so. Where the hell do kids come up with these ideas today?”
But Maggie had a feeling it hadn’t been the boys’ idea. Someone else had convinced them they could not be taken alive. Someone who amassed arsenals, concocted homemade death pills and didn’t hesitate to sacrifice young lives. Someone much more dangerous than these boys.
“Can we check the others before you start the autopsies?”
Maggie made it sound like a casual request. She wanted to see if all the boys were Caucasian, supporting her initial hunch that they might belong to a white supremacist group. Stan didn’t seem to mind her request. Maybe he was curious to get a look himself.
He started unzipping the next bag and pointed a stubby finger at Maggie.
“Please put your goggles down first. They’re not doing you any good on top of your head.”
She hated the suffocating things, but she knew Stan was a stickler for rules. She obeyed and pulled on a pair of latex gloves. She glanced at the bag Stan had opened as she unzipped the one in front of her. Another blond-haired Caucasian boy slept peacefully as Stan pushed the black nylon material down around his face. Then she looked at the bag her fingers were peeling open. She didn’t get very far when she stopped. She snapped back her hands as though she had been stung.
“Oh Jesus!” Maggie stared at the man’s gray face. The perfectly round bullet hole was small and black against his white forehead. She could hear the sloshing of liquid behind his head; liquid that she had disturbed but that still remained captured inside the bag.
“What?” Stan’s voice startled her as he leaned over the body, trying to see what had upset her. “It must be the agent. They said there was one dead.” He sounded impatient.
Maggie stepped back. A cold sweat washed over her body. Suddenly she grabbed onto the counter, unsure of her knees. Now Stan was staring at her, concern replacing impatience.
“I know him” was the only explanation she could manage before she took off for the sink.
CHAPTER 2
Washington, D.C.
M aggie O’Dell’s heels clicked on the cheap linoleum, announcing her arrival. But the brightly lit hallway—more a whitewashed, concrete tunnel than a hallway—appeared to be empty. There were no voices, no noises coming from behind the closed doors she passed. The security guard on the main floor had recognized her before she displayed her badge. He had waved her through and smiled when she said “Thanks, Joe,” not noticing that she had to glance at his name tag to do so.
She slowed to check her watch. Still another two hours before sunrise. Her boss, Assistant Director Kyle Cunningham, had gotten her out of bed with his phone call. Nothing unusual about that. As an FBI agent she was used to phones ringing in the middle of the night. And there was nothing unusual about the fact that he hadn’t awakened her with his call. All he had interrupted was her routine tossing and turning. She’d been awakened once again by nightmares. There were enough bloodied images, enough gut-wrenching experiences in her memory bank to haunt her subconscious for years. Just the thought clenched her teeth, and only now did she realize she had developed a walk that included hands fisted at her sides. She shook the fists open, flexing her fingers as if scolding them for betraying her.
What had been unusual about Cunningham’s phone call was his strained and distressed voice. Just one of the reasons for Maggie’s tension. The man defined the term cool and collected. She had worked with him for almost nine
The bag held one ordinary red-and-white capsule. Maggie could easily see the manufacturer’s name stamped on the side. Though intended to be an over-the-counter headache medication, someone had replaced the contents, using the capsule as a convenient container.
“So they were well prepared for suicide.”
“Yeah, I’d say so. Where the hell do kids come up with these ideas today?”
But Maggie had a feeling it hadn’t been the boys’ idea. Someone else had convinced them they could not be taken alive. Someone who amassed arsenals, concocted homemade death pills and didn’t hesitate to sacrifice young lives. Someone much more dangerous than these boys.
“Can we check the others before you start the autopsies?”
Maggie made it sound like a casual request. She wanted to see if all the boys were Caucasian, supporting her initial hunch that they might belong to a white supremacist group. Stan didn’t seem to mind her request. Maybe he was curious to get a look himself.
He started unzipping the next bag and pointed a stubby finger at Maggie.
“Please put your goggles down first. They’re not doing you any good on top of your head.”
She hated the suffocating things, but she knew Stan was a stickler for rules. She obeyed and pulled on a pair of latex gloves. She glanced at the bag Stan had opened as she unzipped the one in front of her. Another blond-haired Caucasian boy slept peacefully as Stan pushed the black nylon material down around his face. Then she looked at the bag her fingers were peeling open. She didn’t get very far when she stopped. She snapped back her hands as though she had been stung.
“Oh Jesus!” Maggie stared at the man’s gray face. The perfectly round bullet hole was small and black against his white forehead. She could hear the sloshing of liquid behind his head; liquid that she had disturbed but that still remained captured inside the bag.
“What?” Stan’s voice startled her as he leaned over the body, trying to see what had upset her. “It must be the agent. They said there was one dead.” He sounded impatient.
Maggie stepped back. A cold sweat washed over her body. Suddenly she grabbed onto the counter, unsure of her knees. Now Stan was staring at her, concern replacing impatience.
“I know him” was the only explanation she could manage before she took off for the sink.
CHAPTER 2
Washington, D.C.
M aggie O’Dell’s heels clicked on the cheap linoleum, announcing her arrival. But the brightly lit hallway—more a whitewashed, concrete tunnel than a hallway—appeared to be empty. There were no voices, no noises coming from behind the closed doors she passed. The security guard on the main floor had recognized her before she displayed her badge. He had waved her through and smiled when she said “Thanks, Joe,” not noticing that she had to glance at his name tag to do so.
She slowed to check her watch. Still another two hours before sunrise. Her boss, Assistant Director Kyle Cunningham, had gotten her out of bed with his phone call. Nothing unusual about that. As an FBI agent she was used to phones ringing in the middle of the night. And there was nothing unusual about the fact that he hadn’t awakened her with his call. All he had interrupted was her routine tossing and turning. She’d been awakened once again by nightmares. There were enough bloodied images, enough gut-wrenching experiences in her memory bank to haunt her subconscious for years. Just the thought clenched her teeth, and only now did she realize she had developed a walk that included hands fisted at her sides. She shook the fists open, flexing her fingers as if scolding them for betraying her.
What had been unusual about Cunningham’s phone call was his strained and distressed voice. Just one of the reasons for Maggie’s tension. The man defined the term cool and collected. She had worked with him for almost nine
Similar Books
To the Land of Long Lost Friends: No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency (20)
Alexander McCall Smith
Dark Needs at Night's Edge
Kresley Cole
Samaritan
Richard Price
Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 11
Glimpses of Louisa (v2.1)
World of Echos
Kate Kelly
An Accidental Shroud
Marjorie Eccles
Shutout
Brendan Halpin
A Gym Dream
Kathlyn Lammers
The Skeleth
Matthew Jobin
The Pet Show Mystery
Julie Campbell