Bledsoe led her out to the front of the house. “Let’s take a walk,” he said as they stepped onto the cement path that fed the sidewalk.
“Did you think I might hit him?”
“I never know with you sometimes.”
Vail shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “Just because I hate the guy?”
“He’s got an ego the size of DC, that’s pretty damn obvious. But what’d he do to you?”
“Before he hooked on with Senator Linwood’s security detail, Hancock was a field agent for a dozen years.”
“He was a fibbie?”
“Don’t call us that.”
“You call us dicks.”
“Only because some of you are.” Vail nudged Bledsoe playfully with a shoulder. He rocked a bit onto the neighbor’s front lawn before regaining his balance. “Anyway, Hancock applied for the open position at the profiling unit same time I did. I’d worked a couple of crossover cases with him and his work was, well, shitty. I mentioned it to my partner, who told my ASAC. Next thing, I get the promotion, Hancock doesn’t.”
“You’re giving yourself a lot of credit if you think the Bureau was swayed by your opinion, Karen.”
“They weren’t. My ASAC swore he never said anything to anyone about what my partner told him. But Hancock knows I thought his work was shitty, and my field reports didn’t pull any punches. I called a spade a spade, basically saying Hancock’s an incompetent idiot. He thinks he got passed over because of me.” She drew in a deep breath and sighed. “He threw a fit, brought a discrimination suit, left the Bureau.”
“He win the case?”
“Nah, it was bullshit. Judge threw it out.”
They stopped walking and looked around at the quiet residential street. Modest, well-kept one- and two-story brick houses sat like silent witnesses to the recent murder.
“How long ago was this?”
“Little over six years. Word was he found a spiffy job in the private sector doing security work for some Internet company.”
Bledsoe kicked at a rock. “And now he heads up Linwood’s security detail.”
“Pretty boy found a new roost.”
“Hey, it works for Linwood. The senator gets a relatively young guy with a dozen years in the Bureau. Asshole or not, that’s good experience to have on your side.”
Vail shivered and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “So why did Chief Thurston get involved? What’s his stake in all this?”
“Don’t know. Sounded important to him. Something important enough to pull strings.”
Vail turned and started heading back. “Something? Or someone.”
Bledsoe pursed his lips, then nodded.
WHEN THEY RETURNED to Melanie Hoffman’s house, Hancock and Mandisa Manette were huddled over the victim’s body with Bubba Sinclair, a detective from the FCPD, Fairfax City Police Department. Sinclair, head shaved bald and his face peppered with scars from childhood acne, was nodding at something Manette had said. When he saw Vail, he stood from his crouch and smiled. “Hey shrink, how goes it?”
“Good, Sin, good. Except we got us another Dead Eyes vic.”
Sinclair nodded. “This one’s real bad. Worse than before. Sure it’s our guy?”
“Signature’s right on. Vics done in their beds, their own steak knives rammed right through the eyes. Organs eviscerated. Left hand severed. Blood smeared on the walls. Afterwards, offender takes in a meal at the scene, watches the tube. Want me to go on?”
Sinclair shook his head. “Nah, enough for now.”
Manette’s arms were resting on her hips. “Looks just like them other vics. One and two.”
Vail knew this was a slap at her opinion that victim number three was also one of Dead Eyes’s jobs, even though the crime scenes looked markedly different from the previous two. Different even from Melanie Hoffman’s.
“I’ll need to get up to speed,” Hancock said. “Review all the files.
“Did you think I might hit him?”
“I never know with you sometimes.”
Vail shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “Just because I hate the guy?”
“He’s got an ego the size of DC, that’s pretty damn obvious. But what’d he do to you?”
“Before he hooked on with Senator Linwood’s security detail, Hancock was a field agent for a dozen years.”
“He was a fibbie?”
“Don’t call us that.”
“You call us dicks.”
“Only because some of you are.” Vail nudged Bledsoe playfully with a shoulder. He rocked a bit onto the neighbor’s front lawn before regaining his balance. “Anyway, Hancock applied for the open position at the profiling unit same time I did. I’d worked a couple of crossover cases with him and his work was, well, shitty. I mentioned it to my partner, who told my ASAC. Next thing, I get the promotion, Hancock doesn’t.”
“You’re giving yourself a lot of credit if you think the Bureau was swayed by your opinion, Karen.”
“They weren’t. My ASAC swore he never said anything to anyone about what my partner told him. But Hancock knows I thought his work was shitty, and my field reports didn’t pull any punches. I called a spade a spade, basically saying Hancock’s an incompetent idiot. He thinks he got passed over because of me.” She drew in a deep breath and sighed. “He threw a fit, brought a discrimination suit, left the Bureau.”
“He win the case?”
“Nah, it was bullshit. Judge threw it out.”
They stopped walking and looked around at the quiet residential street. Modest, well-kept one- and two-story brick houses sat like silent witnesses to the recent murder.
“How long ago was this?”
“Little over six years. Word was he found a spiffy job in the private sector doing security work for some Internet company.”
Bledsoe kicked at a rock. “And now he heads up Linwood’s security detail.”
“Pretty boy found a new roost.”
“Hey, it works for Linwood. The senator gets a relatively young guy with a dozen years in the Bureau. Asshole or not, that’s good experience to have on your side.”
Vail shivered and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “So why did Chief Thurston get involved? What’s his stake in all this?”
“Don’t know. Sounded important to him. Something important enough to pull strings.”
Vail turned and started heading back. “Something? Or someone.”
Bledsoe pursed his lips, then nodded.
WHEN THEY RETURNED to Melanie Hoffman’s house, Hancock and Mandisa Manette were huddled over the victim’s body with Bubba Sinclair, a detective from the FCPD, Fairfax City Police Department. Sinclair, head shaved bald and his face peppered with scars from childhood acne, was nodding at something Manette had said. When he saw Vail, he stood from his crouch and smiled. “Hey shrink, how goes it?”
“Good, Sin, good. Except we got us another Dead Eyes vic.”
Sinclair nodded. “This one’s real bad. Worse than before. Sure it’s our guy?”
“Signature’s right on. Vics done in their beds, their own steak knives rammed right through the eyes. Organs eviscerated. Left hand severed. Blood smeared on the walls. Afterwards, offender takes in a meal at the scene, watches the tube. Want me to go on?”
Sinclair shook his head. “Nah, enough for now.”
Manette’s arms were resting on her hips. “Looks just like them other vics. One and two.”
Vail knew this was a slap at her opinion that victim number three was also one of Dead Eyes’s jobs, even though the crime scenes looked markedly different from the previous two. Different even from Melanie Hoffman’s.
“I’ll need to get up to speed,” Hancock said. “Review all the files.
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