Читать книгу Detective Carson Ryder Thriller Series Books 7-9: Buried Alive, Her Last Scream, The Killing Game - J. Kerley A. - Страница 22

The Special Agent in Charge was named Gloria Krenkler. It turned out Dray’s case lingered into extra innings and Ms Krenkler had been placed in his slot.

“I’m happy to meet you, Agent Krenkler,” Cherry said, hand out. “You’re a welcome addition to the team.”

The cobalt eyes studied Cherry like Hernán Cortés viewing the welcoming natives. “Team?” she said.

Time for the official meet’n’greet amenities. I pasted my most charming smile on my face and waved across the dozen feet. “I’m pleased to meet you, Agent Krenkler. I’m Carson Ryder and I’m sort of, uh, consulting on the case.”

The eyes studied me through a slow and silent five-count, like she was sorting items into boxes and trying to figure out what container I’d require.

“Ah yes, the vacationing cop who received the call from nowhere. Who called you?”

I shrugged. Krenkler said, “I heard it was Detective Cherry.”

Beale grinned and I realized he’d fed Krenkler his version of events.

“That was my initial belief,” I said. “I was wrong.”

Krenkler arched a perfectly drawn eyebrow. “Really? I heard Detective Cherry discovered you were nearby and called for help.” Krenkler turned to Cherry. “You’d call a vacationing cop before you’d call the FBI?”

“I assure you that I didn’t call Detective Ryder,” Cherry said evenly.

“But he was surely called by someone in local law enforcement, right?”

“That’s the safe guess, Agent Krenkler,” Cherry said. It was a subtle poke, and if Krenkler recognized it, an impression didn’t register. Cherry continued. “However Detective Ryder was alerted, he’s been tremendously generous with his time and input. We all owe him a debt of gratitude.”

“I just arrived,” Krenkler said, affecting puzzled. “Why do I owe him anything?”

There was an uncomfortable silence, no one wishing to venture an answer. I cleared my throat. “It’s true,” I said, trying to steer back toward civility. “I’ve simply been helping gather what little evidence has presented. In fact, new evidence came to light about the methodology of Mr Burton’s murder, and Detective Cherry and I were documenting it for the Bureau’s review.”

Krenkler approached me with arms crossed. She stopped a foot away, an uncomfortable incursion of personal space. “And just where is this new evidence, Detective Ryder?”

I gave it two slow beats.

“You’re standing on it, ma’am.”

Krenkler looked down. Her icepick-pointy black flats were dead-center on the dolomite. She stepped back and we studied one another, neither happy with the input.

She said, “I’m sure you’ll be glad to get back to your vacation, Detective Ryder.”

“I can help here, Agent Krenkler. I’ve had experience with—” I was addressing her retreating back. She gestured Cherry to her with a crooked finger, as if summoning an errant child. They spoke, Cherry’s face growing red. I walked to the other agents with my hand out. The older man shook my hand and mumbled, “Rourke.” The other kept his hands in his pockets and nodded to the air beside my head.

I leaned against a hemlock until Krenkler dismissed Cherry. We drove away, her knuckles white on the steering wheel.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“It’s officially Krenkler’s investigation,” Cherry said, voice tightly controlled. “She was officially asked to take over by Beale, who is officially in charge of the county and officially allowed to request any assistance he needs.”

“And you are officially what?” I asked.

“Fucked.”

It was the only word she said on the drive back.