Skin Deep

CHAPTER 12

LAURA ARRIVED AT the Anacostia station house at a few minutes before eight o’clock. Liam had arranged the interviews for Mariel Tate as requested, and Foyle had requisitioned space for her. The conference room at the station house didn’t have the clichйd peeling paint and forty-year-old furniture. It did have the clichйd faux-wood table, pale blue generic office chairs, and dirt-hiding carpet that was twenty years old. Laura suspected the carpet had looked like dirt when it was installed.

She sat alone, checking her PDA and trying to keep Saffin calm. Between Hornbeck, the Guildmaster, and Resha Dunne, the brownie had her hands full running interference for Laura. Once Laura talked to Hornbeck, she hoped things would calm down, and they could get on with the ceremony.

She made clothing for Mariel part of the glamour for the day. Since she was beginning the day as Mariel and switching to Laura in the afternoon, it made life easier to wear a Laura outfit and glamour it with Mariel’s preferences for the morning. For the SWAT-team meeting, she appeared to wear one of Mariel’s basic business suits in deep charcoal, with a subtle flare at the jacket shoulders and a long, snug skirt. The image projected assurance and reflected the SWAT-TEAM uniform. She wanted the squad to feel that she was in control yet on the same team.

Foyle arrived wearing his dress uniform. She smiled that she wasn’t the only one projecting images. “Please have a seat, Captain Foyle. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Foyle sat opposite Laura, still and formal. “The pleasure is mine, ma’am.”

Laura folded her hands on the table and leaned toward him. “I don’t want to take too much of your time. This is preliminary for InterSec. We know you have other agencies you need to speak with. As co-investigators, we will have access to your other interviews and follow up as necessary.”

He gave a curt nod. “We appreciate that, ma’am.”

“Anything to keep the paperwork down,” Laura said. Foyle didn’t crack a smile. She opened a folder on the table and sorted through the various reports that had been filed. She wasn’t sure if Foyle was one of those who became unsettled during administrative hearings when druids didn’t refer to notes. She didn’t want him to feel the hearing was pointless or that a decision had already been made. Sometimes that was true, Laura admitted, but not always and not this time.

She pushed the paperwork away and leaned back. “What are you worried about, Captain?”

Foyle’s forehead creased. “Ma’am?”

Anger simmered below the surface of Foyle’s calm face. Laura didn’t want him angry. She wanted him comfortable. She gestured at the file. “I can read all this to you, but you know what it says. Off the record, I’m not all that upset by a bunch of dead drug dealers. I want whoever shot Janice Crawford. You want whoever killed your man. Tell me what you think went wrong.”

Foyle shifted back in his chair. “Bad intelligence and inadequate staff.”

“That’s what I’m seeing, too. Who is responsible for the intelligence?” she asked.

“I am responsible for the integrity of our information,” he said.

She nodded. “I know. You should be. But I recognize the fact that we can all be fooled. Where was trust misplaced here?”

Foyle’s anger dissipated into slight confusion and, oddly, a sense of hope. “Our primary contact was through an informant who is missing.”

She tilted her head, her expression curious. “Do you think you were targeted for disinformation?”

His confusion relaxed into relief, which could mean a number of things. If he wasn’t involved in the shooting, he wanted his team exonerated. If he was, well, he might be relieved she was on the wrong track and not going to implicate him. “It’s possible. My team is still responsible for its performance.”

Whenever he spoke, she nodded. She wanted to encourage the notion that they were in agreement. “I understand your feelings on that. Who found the intelligence sources?”

“Lieutenants Gianni and Sinclair. It’s in the files,” he said.

“Do you have any issues with their performance?”

“None.”

“Have they been involved in poor data sourcing before?”

“No.”

She moved some papers. “You were missing your regular team druid… Corman Deegan. Was that a factor?”

The curt nod again. “I believe it was. His substitute was not as skilled, from what I understand.”

“Janice Crawford. I believe you requested her?”

“I did, ma’am. She’d performed adequately on two or three previous missions. She seemed up to the task.”

Laura nodded. “I see. Do you think the outcome would have been different if Deegan had been with you?”

Foyle hesitated. “Maybe. We still don’t know what happened when Sanchez was shot. Crawford is claiming amnesia.”

“Yes. The concussion. She was shot, too.” A flicker of doubt washed out from Foyle. Laura almost broke her cool demeanor. Foyle had doubts about what had happened to Janice. What had happened to her. “You said ‘claiming amnesia,’ Captain. Do you have concerns about her diagnosis?”

His emotions shut down except for suspicion. “Crawford has been less than forthcoming.”

Laura picked up a random page from the file and pretended to read. “From what I understand, temporary memory loss is typical of a concussion of this type.”

Foyle shifted in his seat. “She was found at the scene covered with Sanchez’s blood. She was with him when he died. No one else was reported in the area. To the best of our knowledge, the fey attacker did not use a gun. I asked her whether Sanchez said anything, and she told me she didn’t remember. I think it’s important to know his last words.”

Mariel nodded. “I do, too, Captain. Agent Crawford was wounded. Your man was killed. If something Sanchez might have said could lead to the perpetrator, InterSec wants that to happen, too.”

Foyle nodded, his body signature shifted into mild doubt. Mariel didn’t blame him. Despite the multiple-agency cooperation, humans worried about the motivations of the fey. “I appreciate that.”

Laura pursed her lips and nodded. “Let’s get started then. Please send in Lieutenant Gianni.”

She followed Foyle to the door and held it closed when he left the room. Pulling out her cell phone, she hit the speed dial for Foyle’s office. His voicemail picked up. Janice’s voice was a variation on Laura’s own, so she didn’t need to swap glamours to use it. “Foyle, it’s Crawford. My SUV blew a tire on the bridge. I’ll be there ASAP. Sorry.”

She disconnected and returned to her seat. She took several pages out of the file and laid them across the table without any organization. During the brief times she had been with Gianni as Janice, she knew he didn’t think much of women. Coming on strong would probably not work, so she decided her best course was to play into his condescension. Mariel Tate would act disorganized and indecisive. A knock on the door sounded. “Come,” she said.

Gianni stood at attention next to the chair Foyle had vacated. Laura gestured to it with an overly earnest smile. “My name is Mariel Tate, Lieutenant. I have a few questions for you regarding your recent mission.”

Gianni relaxed into the chair. She felt calm self-assurance from him, colored with impatience and cockiness. “Shoot.”

He tried to maintain eye contact with her, but failed. She picked up a page from his mission report. “Lieutenant, I’d like a few more details on your report. You state that you met Captain Foyle and Lieutenant Sinclair at the door to the warehouse workroom. Correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Who arrived first?” she asked.

“I believe they did,” he said. His voice had an odd sense, as if he were telling the truth yet lying.

“Together?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. They were there.”

She sorted through the papers, pretending she couldn’t find something. Foyle reported he had met Sinclair and Gianni at the door, so Foyle had to have arrived last, not Gianni. She lifted a sheet and smiled with relief. “Um… so you were alone from the time you left the computer lab until you met them?”

He nodded. Laura didn’t like the nod. Gianni projected resistance. While her empathy picked up emotions, hearing someone speak clarified the emotion.

“Okay,” she said. She sorted through papers again. “Who called the medics in?”

“Sinclair.” Fast. Assured. Truth. Sinclair’s report stated the same.

“Oh, right. There it is,” she said. She paused and read the report. The longer she read, the more amusement flowed off Gianni. “Okay, um, did you see anyone else near the door before or after you entered the room?”

Gianni shifted in his seat. “Just the medics.”

Laura nodded, staring at the report. “And… um… okay.” She switched to another report. “Lieutenant, how did you find the informant who provided information about the warehouse operation?”

He shrugged. “Street contacts. Sanchez put us onto someone.”

Lie, Laura thought. “Did you know Sanchez well?”

He shrugged again. “Well enough. We weren’t tight.”

“How would you rate his skills?”

“We’re SWAT,” he said. The phrase rang with pride, but the answer was an easy evasion.

With good reason, Laura thought. She leaned back and twisted a ring on her finger, looking uncomfortable. “Lieutenant, I need to ask an awkward question. Did you think Sanchez might have… let’s call it… had a lapse in judgment that led to his death and the wounding of Agent Crawford?”

Gianni stared at her, his eyes going cold. She sensed calculation in the look, a threat of false anger over insulting a colleague. “Sanchez knew what he was doing when he took the job. It only takes one little mistake for everything to go wrong, and he made his.”

Laura forced a blush to her cheeks. “Yes, I see. I meant no offense.”

“None taken, ma’am,” he said. Another lie, she thought.

She gathered up the reports and tapped them on the table. “Okay, then. My focus right now is on the events in the room where Sanchez died. I may need to speak to you again.”

Gianni stood. “Not a problem.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Could you send Agent Crawford in?” she asked.

Gianni hesitated. “Sure thing.”

When he was out of the room, Laura hurried to the door. She heard Gianni call out for Crawford, and a muffled reply from someone. She pulled out her cell and saw three calls to Janice from Foyle. She had a good idea what he had to say to her, so she didn’t bother listening to the messages. She hit his speed dial. The connection went immediately to voicemail. Foyle was on the phone. Laura’s phone beeped at the same time, and his name come up on the call waiting.

Laura created a small bubble of essence and nudged it into the phone. The speaker crackled with static. “Foyle, it’s me. Someone freakin’ messed with my tires. I’m waiting for a tow. Be there as soon as the truck shows up.”

She disconnected and resumed her seat. A moment later, Sinclair walked in. He had a tentative smile on his face that curiously faltered for a moment when he saw Laura. He extended his hand. “I’m Lieutenant Jonathon Sinclair.”

Laura returned the shake but did not get up. “Mariel Tate. I was expecting Agent Crawford.”

Sinclair took a seat without waiting to be asked. He seemed confused about something, preoccupied. “Lieutenant?”

Sinclair looked up. “I’m sorry, I was trying to recall something. Captain Foyle said Crawford is delayed and suggested I come in first.”

Laura pretended to consider the situation with a hint of annoyance. “Very well, Lieutenant.” She moved the folders on the table, then leaned back. “Tell me, Lieutenant, how you would have run the drug-raid mission differently.”

He looked surprised by the question but immediately focused on the idea. “We needed more people on the main entry and better intel. In retrospect, we relied too much on the druidess.”

“That would be Agent Crawford.”

“Yes. She was supposed to take out two brownie sentries,” he said.

“She did, though, didn’t she? One brownie was secured immediately, and the other turned out to not be what he seemed.”

“Yes,” Sinclair said. She felt a sense of doubt and hesitation.

“What do you think happened in that room, Lieutenant?”

He didn’t shrug like Gianni. He took his time to consider the question seriously, willing to offer his opinion. “I can’t say. I’ve read the reports. The preliminary report indicates that both Crawford and Sanchez were fired upon from the entrance to the room.”

“The timing and damage in the room suggest that Agent Crawford was engaged in the back of the room,” Laura said.

Sinclair nodded, but doubt lingered around him. Laura felt it whenever he said or heard the name Crawford. He had suspicions about her, vague, something undefined. She tried to think of anything she had done as Janice Crawford that might have prompted the emotion. Of course, being in the room when a teammate died might have had a lot to do with it. Laura glanced away in thought. “Lieutenant, present me with a plausible situation in which Agent Crawford shot Sanchez.”

He didn’t startle. “He could have fired on her, and she defended herself.”

She thought it interesting that the first scenario that came to his mind characterized Sanchez as the aggressor. She took that as a possibility that his doubts about Crawford lay elsewhere. “I don’t believe we’ve found the bullet that hit Crawford yet. Where it fell would be an interesting test of that theory. What if Crawford fired at Sanchez first?”

He shook his head. “She didn’t have a weapon that we know of. I didn’t see one when I found her. Crawford didn’t look like she was in any shape to hide a gun at that point.”

Now that was interesting, Laura thought. He was intrigued enough to read the reports to determine if Janice had fired a gun and think about possible scenarios if she had. Of course, analysis was part of any mission debrief, especially for one that had gone wrong, but his quick response indicated he checked that piece of data specifically. “Lieutenant, how would you characterize your relationship with Lieutenant Sanchez?”

“Good.”

Laura raised an eyebrow. She was feeling a sense of embarrassment. “That’s it? Did you socialize?”

He nodded. “We went for drinks together regularly. He was a stand-up guy, a little close to the vest. He loved baseball. Couldn’t stop talking about it.”

“I never understood the attraction myself,” she said.

He laughed. Good, she thought. She had finally gotten a spontaneous reaction from him. She even liked his laugh. “Me either, actually. I’m a basketball fan myself.”

“I like NASCAR,” she said.

His eyebrows shot up. “Wow.”

She surprised herself by the admission since it was a persona crossing. Laura liked stock-car racing, not Mariel. It was a minor point, but she had never done that before. She opened the folder again. “Let’s talk about the informant. Gianni found him, is that correct?”

“Officially, yes.”

She looked at him curiously. “And unofficially?”

Shutting down again, he chose his words carefully. “Sanchez and I went for drinks one night. We drove by this house. Sanchez slowed a bit and checked it out. Not long after that, Gianni came in with the informant.”

“I’m not seeing the connection,” she said.

“A week or so later, Gianni brought me to the same house to do an initial interview with an informant for the raid.”

“Did Sanchez say anything about Gianni’s scooping his informant?”

Sinclair shook his head. “No. It was just a drive-by. I asked him what he was looking at, and he changed the subject.”

So Sanchez had apparently been one step ahead of Gianni. Sanchez had covered Crawford’s back when she needed him, and he hadn’t even known her. He must have been a good agent.

“What do you make of it?” she asked.

Sinclair hesitated. “I don’t know.”

A lie, she thought. “Come on, Sinclair. You’re a smart guy. You must have an opinion.”

He sighed. “It could be anything. Sanchez might have had the informant in his sights, and Gianni beat him to it.”

“You don’t believe that. Sanchez and Gianni would have said something to each other. You would have heard about it.”

He rubbed his hands on his thighs, nervousness going up a tick in his emotional state. “Okay, I think Sanchez knew something about the raid.”

“He was dirty.” She threw it at him as if it were fact.

No cop liked to implicate another in breaking the law, but Sinclair didn’t startle like she expected him to. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re thinking it. You think Sanchez was involved with whatever was going on at the apartment complex, and they took him out.”

Sinclair’s anger increased, but he did a good job of hiding it to outward appearances. “I’m not going to speculate about a dead cop.”

Laura decided to back off. She had her answer anyway. Sinclair thought Sanchez had been on the wrong side. “Okay. Let’s move on. What do you think of Agent Crawford?”

His expression became more neutral, and the anger subsided. “I think she’s in a tough spot and doesn’t deserve it.”

That was nice to hear. He meant it, too. “Do you blame her for Sanchez’s death?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“You seem sure.”

“She was doing the captain a favor. She almost got killed, and now she’s got vultures circling.”

“What do you mean?”

He met her eyes for several impressive seconds. “The bridge.”

Laura, or rather Janice, hadn’t reported the bridge incident. “What bridge?”

He smirked, but in a congenial way. “The incident on the Anacostia Bridge. Something like that happens, you hear things.”

Laura wondered what else he had heard. She returned his smirk. “We all do, Lieutenant Sinclair. Tell me about the Vault.”

His lack of surprise was the perfect reaction. “Obviously, you know I’ve done some side work there.”

“Describe it for me?”

“There’s not much to tell. It’s routine security work. A lot of politicians go there for meetings.”

“With whom?”

“Each other. Business types. There are a couple of private rooms in the club and in the offices upstairs. I’ve run security for meetings.”

“Have you ever met Tylo Blume?”

He nodded. “Twice. The night he offered me the first job and one other time, when I worked with Sanchez.”

“When was that?”

Sinclair pursed his lips. “About two weeks ago. A private meeting in one of the function rooms.”

This was new. “Did you know anyone at the meeting?”

She sensed Sinclair debating what to tell her or what not to tell her. “Blume. Some guys from the State Department. Senator Hornbeck. A congressman-I think his name is Lewis-and a few elves looked familiar. They didn’t speak English.”

“What was the meeting about?”

“I wasn’t in the room.”

“Where were you the night before last, Lieutenant?”

He didn’t miss the change in subject. “The Vault. With Gianni and Crawford, before you ask.”

She nodded. “Did you leave together?”

He shook his head. “Crawford left early. I followed her outside to make sure she was okay to drive. She was fine, so I went back inside. Gianni was gone, so I left.”

“Do you think Corman Deegan drinks too much?”

His startled expression at another change in direction amused her. “What?”

She watched him carefully, curious how he would react. “Your teammate. Do you think he drinks too much?”

Sinclair sighed as he thought about it. “I’ve seen him drink. I don’t know if it’s a problem. I’ve never seen it be a problem on the job.”

“You went drinking the night before the raid,” she said.

“We didn’t go ‘drinking.’ We went for a couple of drinks, then home,” he said.

“Deegan seems to have had more than a couple.”

Sinclair paused. “He may have. I left after two drinks. He and Gianni stayed talking.”

“Do you think the raid would have fallen apart if Deegan had been there?”

He made a noncommittal gesture with his hand. “Too many variables to say. The intel was bad. Deegan’s good, but so was Sanchez. When the intel is bad, anything can happen.”

She sensed truth from him. He didn’t think Janice had screwed up. He knew the problem was the source of the information. “One last question, Lieutenant. When you heard Janice Crawford’s mayday, who reached the room first?”

“I don’t know. Foyle and Gianni were already there.”

That made three officers claiming they were the last to arrive. “Okay. Thank you, Lieutenant. Can you send in Agent Crawford if she is no longer delayed, please?”

Sinclair held his hand out. “It was a pleasure talking with you, Agent Tate.”

Laura smiled at the unexpected gesture. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

She checked her PDA while waiting for Foyle to tell her that Janice Crawford was unavailable. Saffin had everything under control back at the office. Rhys’s office liked her changes to the speech and sent along the Guildmaster’s compliments. Resha Dunne had decided to attend Laura’s Senate hearing in the afternoon. Laura groaned at the thought. She knew he would try to hijack the proceedings to bolster his importance. Liam sent a message to Mariel Tate that her car would be waiting when she left the station house.

Foyle leaned into the room. “Agent Tate, I have to apologize, but Agent Crawford has not shown up and is unreachable.”

Feigning annoyance, Laura gathered her files. “I will deal with her through InterSec then. When she arrives, tell her to call my office for an appointment.”

Foyle accompanied her to the elevator. “Did everything go well?”

She watched the floor numbers counting down toward her. “They were acceptable initial meetings. I’ll review the other investigative reports and get back to you if need be.”

The elevator opened, and Laura stepped forward. Foyle touched her arm. She looked down at his hand, mildly surprised. “Agent Tate, I would appreciate it if you got back to me either way. I need answers.”

His tone was sincere and matched what Laura was sensing. “I will, Captain. We all want answers.”

A black car waited outside as planned. She didn’t know the driver, so she chanted a sound barrier around her. Guildhouse drivers were used to the behavior and didn’t consider it rude.

“Gianni shot me,” said Laura when Terryn answered her call.

“Your memory has returned?” Terryn didn’t sound surprised. He absorbed everything with a calm professionalism that sometimes irritated Laura. She wished he would scream in frustration just once in her presence. He and his clan had seen kingdoms rise and fall. A cop shooting another cop apparently didn’t faze him.

She noticed a brown shopping bag in the corner of the seat and pulled it toward her. Lunch from Liam. “No. I noticed that the mission reports were vague about when Foyle, Gianni, and Sinclair arrived at the room Sanchez and I were in. All three claim they arrived after the other two. Gianni was the only one who clearly registered as lying.”

“If he shot Sanchez, why didn’t he shoot you at the same time?”

Laura considered the scenario. “I don’t think he had a clear line of sight on me until I joined Sanchez. There was a firefight going on. Sanchez was shooting at the door right up to the end. Gianni would have had to take cover from both Sanchez and the drug dealers.”

“Should we pull him in?”

She withdrew a bottle of springwater from the bag. “Not yet. If we pull him in because I sensed he was lying, he’ll think I’m bluffing. I don’t want to tip my empathic ability.”

“He shot you, Laura. Are you comfortable with him getting away with that?”

Even if Terryn couldn’t see her, he had to notice the sly challenge in her voice. “Oh, he’s not going to get away with anything. I want to know why he shot me. I’m going to tail him personally.”

“Another job is the last thing you need. Let’s get a junior operative to tail him,” he said.

She took a swig of the water. “It’s all the same job, Terryn. Just the faces change.”

“Keep me updated,” he said.

“Will do.” She disconnected and removed a boxed lunch from the bag. Starving, she flipped it open. Two small rolled sandwiches of prosciutto with basil and thinly sliced provolone. A small cluster of french fries smelled of truffle oil. She was going to kill Liam for all the salt and starch. But she had asked for “wonderful.”