FOLLOW THE LEADER - Chapter 29

Chapter 29


The FBI Field Office was on Golden Gate Avenue, just northeast of the Civic Center area. After I went through the metal detector, I looked up to see Agent John Driscoll waiting for me. He was wearing his brown suit, the same one he always wore—at least when he was with me. His dark curly hair was shorter than I remembered. 
         He was checking me out, too. 
“Good to see you, Kelly.”
         “It’s been a while,” I said.
         We shook hands quickly.
         “Run into trouble?”
         It was only 2:10.  Or 14:10 for Driscoll.
         “I took the J Church and—”         
         “No wonder,” he chuckled.
         The “J” was the most unreliable line in the city. 
         We were walking briskly.
         We passed the room where they had kept me overnight a year ago.  Now we stood outside an office door. It was unmarked. He knocked twice.
         “Come in.” A woman’s voice.
          Driscoll ushered me in to see Special Agent Margaret Thornhill.
          “He took the J Church,” Driscoll explained. He landed a friendly shoulder punch, then left. 
          “Hello there, glad you could make it.”
          We shook hands. She motioned for me to sit down.
          I sat.
          Margaret Thornhill no longer had touches of gray in her short dark hair.  She wore a dark green pantsuit. Her piercing dark brown eyes surveyed me.
          “Good to see you again,” she said.
          Just like that, her smile disappeared.
          Pissed at me already? I just walked through the door!
         “Sorry to be late,” I said.
          “Late is late,” she said. “No excuses.”
          “Right.”
          “And this other thing: using a sheriff on duty to contact me while I’m in the middle of a forensic investigation…”
          “That was a mistake. I won’t do it again.”
          My apology seemed to relax her.
          “You ought to know by now that one of us would eventually make time for you.”
          “I do?”
          “Come on, Kelly. You saved Agent Driscoll’s life. John won’t forget that, believe me. You also saved my ass.”
          “Really? How did I do that?”
          “You’re the one who figured out how the traffickers were smuggling in their girls. If it weren’t for you, we’d still be scratching our heads.”
          “You’d have figured it out,” I said.
          “Maybe. So tell me how you’re approaching this cold case. The murder of Katherine Rollins, right?”
          I nodded.
          “I’ve interviewed her parents, of course.  According to Joy Rollins, her mother, Katherine’s boyfriend, Zack accused her of ripping off a sizable stash of drugs from his dealer’s apartment. So that’s a strong motive for murder, right?”
          “Oh yeah. But tread lightly.”
          “How?”
          “Zack Tyler’s  father is a wealthy man who supports the SFPD.  He and Chief Howell are buddy-buddy. 
          “So you know about Zack.”
          “Just a little. Early days. What else you doing?
          “I’m planning to go back to Death Valley Park and nose around. I think the Rollins murder was not a one-off. The gang did her. They probably did the headless girl in the cornfield. If I go back to the beginning, maybe I’ll get a lead as to who’s leading the pack.”
          “That’s smart. Who’s going with you?”
         “Mike Rollins, I hope. Unless he wimps out.”
          “Anyone else?”
          “My new assistant, Terry. Young techie.”
          “I’d leave him at the office.”
          “It’s her. Why?”
          “What you’re talking about is gathering anecdotal evidence. Having one untrained partner is bad enough. But at least Rollins will be highly motivated. Less likely to be staring at his smart phone.”
          She had a point. But Terry would give me hell about it.
          She glanced down at her watch. “Gotta wind this up, friend. One more quick thing: Have you been wondering why the killers dumped the body onto a city sidewalk in the Haight?” 
          I laughed.
          “Every day,” I said.
          “So have we,” she said. “Let us know if you figure that one out.”
          “Okay.”
          She rose and headed for the door to show me out.
          “Good luck,” she said.
          “You, too, ma’am.”
          “It’s Maggie.”
          I nodded.
          On the way down the hall I remembered: I forgot to ask her about the initials! 

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