Vail 01 - The 7th Victim Read Online Free PDF

Victimologies, photos, interviews—”
     
    “We know what’s in the files, Hancock,” Vail said.
     
    Bledsoe held up a hand to keep the peace. “Task force is my responsibility. I’ll make sure you get what you need.”
     
    Hancock nodded, rocked on his heels, and threw a sideways glance at Vail.
     
    “So how’d you pull this assignment?” Manette asked.
     
    “Simple,” Hancock said. “I asked for it.”
     
    Manette’s head jutted back. “Who you with?”
     
    Vail grunted, then turned to walk away. “He’s not a LEO.”
     
    “Not law enforcement?” Manette looked from Hancock to Bledsoe. “Don’t you be telling me he’s a reporter—”
     
    “Agent Chase Hancock.” He again extended a hand toward Manette, but again she ignored it and instead turned to Vail.
     
    “ Agent Hancock? He’s one of yours?”
     
    “I’m agent-in-charge of Senator Linwood’s security detail,” Hancock said. “The senator’s appalled over this offender’s boldness and is shocked by the ineptitude of local law enforcement in catching this guy.” He looked at Vail. “Including the FBI.”
     
    Sinclair stepped forward. “What gives you the right—”
     
    “I’ve got an idea,” Bledsoe said. “How about we get back to the crime scene? In other words, do what we get paid to do. We can powwow later and lay our thoughts on the table then.”
     
    That quieted the group and, despite a grumble from Hancock, they dispersed.
     
    Vail made her way over to Melanie Hoffman’s body and stood there, letting her eyes move from the bare feet up to the head. Staring at the protruding knives . . . wondering: Was she dead when he plunged them into her brain? If she was like the other two victims, the answer would be yes. What was the significance of stabbing the eyes? Was it sexual in nature? And what was the meaning of the message the offender left on the wall?
     
    A knock at the door interrupted the background clicks and flashes of the criminalists’ cameras. “Hey everybody.” In walked Roberto Enrique Umberto Hernandez, the six-foot-seven Vienna Police Department Detective whose small-town murder case gave birth to the Dead Eyes killer. Vail met him at the doorway and they hugged briefly.
     
    “Karen, how’ve you been?” He looked over at Bledsoe, who tipped his head back in acknowledgment. Manette reached over and touched her fist to Robby’s. “What’s up?” Robby asked Manette.
     
    “I think we should stop meeting like this. Take in dinner, a movie instead.” Manette ran her hand across his thick forearm and winked at him. Even with his darker complexion, Vail could swear that Robby blushed.
     
    Robby had gotten into law enforcement for the same reason many cops had, because of the violent death of a loved one. In his case, his uncle, who had served as a surrogate father. Robby had witnessed the killing himself, a particularly brutal job carried out by gang members. His uncle was an honest, hardworking man, and why he would be a gang target Robby never understood. But it changed Robby’s life in ways he could not anticipate. Like upping in the LAPD. That turned some heads in the old ’hood, especially when he made detective and was stationed in the Pico District, LA’s premier Hispanic gang neighborhood.
     
    But even though Robby had a gentle soul, at six-seven, with a square jaw and deep-set eyes, his body language said, “Don’t fuck with me.” To hear Robby tell it, not many did. Vail was inclined to believe him.
     
    Robby’s eyes found Melanie Hoffman’s body, and his shoulders sagged forward. He cleared his throat.
     
    “Roll up your sleeves and dig in,” Vail said.
     
    The next half hour passed without much discussion. The crime scene unit continued their work, and the task force did theirs. Robby broke away from the trio of detectives and crouched next to Vail as she studied the congealed pool of blood beside the bed.
     
    “I’m thinking of applying to the Academy.” Robby