Page 22 of Dead Mountain

“Of course. I’m just sorry about all the disrespect.”

Tenorio smiled. “We’ve had four hundred years to get used to it.”

14

IT WAS LATE afternoon when Corrie looked up to see Agent Sharp leaning his head into her cubicle: hair slightly tousled, the brown strands shining faintly in the fluorescent light.

“Come with me, please,” he said.

She locked her computer screen, rose, and followed him into the corridor and along the wall of cubicles, until they arrived at the open door to Garcia’s office. It looked crowded inside.

They walked past the secretary in the outer office. Sharp stepped aside to let her go first, then followed, closing the door behind him. And now Corrie saw something new in her experience: at least a dozen senior agents, standing in a half-circle before the big desk. Garcia sat behind it, playing with a pencil. She and Sharp took a place at the far end of the group, nearest the glass that normally looked onto the cube farm beyond. The horizontal blinds were closed, shuttering the view.

Garcia looked at each agent in turn, and it took many seconds before he got to Corrie. His gaze displayed no emotion, but it was penetrating and severe, and she tried not to wilt like an orchid under a heat lamp. Then he pushed back from the desk and addressed the group as a whole.

“None of you need to be told why I’ve called you in here,” he said. “The Dead Mountain case, on ice for years, is as of right now active—and hot.”

Nobody said a word. Corrie could feel tension rippling through the group.

“As you all know, the story has broken in the local press,” Garcia said, looking for the briefest moment at Corrie. “I wish to hell we could have had a couple of extra days to work this quietly, but there we are. Our first priority is to formally identify the victims and notify next of kin. You can bet the national press will be here soon, and they yell a lot louder than the locals do.”

Garcia looked around the group again. “I’m assigning Dead Mountain to Supervisory Special Agent Sharp.” He paused to let this sink in, his gaze quelling any murmuring. “I know there are some among you who assisted on the original case under Agent Gold, now retired. Agent Sharp will undoubtedly call upon you for background.” He paused again. “I’ve got a warning for the young eager beavers among you: catching a case like this is nothing a law enforcement officer should want. You’re going to be under a microscope. You’ll be inundated with lies, false leads, bullshit, and craziness. Conspiracy theories will spring up like mushrooms after a rain. You screw up, and the press and public will be merciless. This goddamned puzzle defeated our best efforts fifteen years ago. Now that it’s raised its head again, we have to solve this bitch once and for all. Because this is the kind of case that’s going to stick to a career—all down the line. Now, Agent Sharp wasn’t chosen just because he and Agent Swanson discovered the bodies. He has a unique skill set, and perhaps more importantly the ideal disposition to prosecute this inquiry. But he’ll need help, and I know he’ll be reaching out to many of you. I expect you to give him a hundred percent. That’s all.”

Garcia finished so abruptly that it took a moment for Corrie to realize the meeting was over. The semicircle of agents around the desk began to break up, turning for the door. Several of them glanced over at Sharp as they left. Corrie, who had heard her name mentioned once and once only, felt a little dazed, as if she’d just been unexpectedly smacked across the face. She started to leave—only to feel Sharp’s subtle restraining touch on her arm.

When only the three of them were left in the office, Garcia stood up and came around the desk and walked up to Sharp. “I think you know why you’re still lead on this case.”

“Sir,” Sharp said. Corrie wasn’t sure if this counted as an answer.

“You know what’s involved. This case isn’t old enough to be in the history books, but old enough for every jackass out there to have a theory. Just keep your head down. Never speculate, never explain. You don’t want to feed the conspiracy machine.”

He fell quiet again: a hesitation more than a pause. “Just one more thing, Agent Sharp . . . Do I need to remind you of it?”

“No, sir,” Sharp said quickly. “You don’t.”

Garcia nodded slowly. “Then get to it.”

As the two walked out of the office, Corrie felt the dazed sensation fade and her cheeks begin to burn. Just yesterday, she’d been congratulating herself that she was too junior an agent to be involved once this case ramped up. Then again, she’d been out there at the site, done as much as anyone—but when Garcia had stepped up to Sharp, he hadn’t even spared her a glance. Was she on the case or not? It seemed not. And under the circumstances, there was no way Sharp could continue mentoring her now. She took in a shaky breath, then let it out. She reminded herself she was still technically a trainee, and this was obviously a big case. She had to accept that if she had a role in this case—which seemed unlikely—it would be small.

They were approaching her cubicle now, and Sharp had remained silent. Corrie did her best to tamp down her feelings. The fact was, she didn’t know how to feel.

She stopped in front of her cubicle, and Sharp halted with her.

“I just wanted to say thank you, sir,” she told him. She was relieved to hear that her voice remained calm and professional. “I appreciate your mentoring, brief as it was.” She took a deep breath and screwed up her courage. “If you need any help on this case, maybe I could . . . you know, lend a hand.” She didn’t trust herself to say anything more, so she turned to her desk.

She paused when she realized Sharp was still there. “Lend a hand?” he asked.

Corrie waited. She was confused enough as it was and had no idea what he could mean.

“As your mentor,” he said, “I decide when an assignment is finished—not you.”

“But this case, isn’t it going to take up all your time—?”

“Yes. A slight readjustment is necessary. Going forward, you’ll be my junior partner on Dead Mountain.”

Corrie felt dazed all over again.

“I know, it feels like you’ve just been thrown out of the plane with no parachute—doesn’t it? But don’t worry, we’re going to rope in several extra agents up front and more as we need them.” He reached into his jacket, pulled out an envelope. “Memorize this.”

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