Only Once (A Sadie Price FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 4)

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

Sadie Price, star of the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit, sat outside the inner office of her senior agent, ASAC Paul Golightly, and tried not to vomit all over the pale green carpet.

She felt sick with worry, even though if anyone had studied her face, she would seem perfectly calm. She had put on her best pant suit over her thermals and under her fur-lined winter parka, and wrestled her unmanageable hair into submission, pinning it back into a neat bun. She needed to look unflappable, like someone who had nothing to worry about at all.

Like someone who wasn’t guilty.

The original date for the hearing had been postponed while Sadie had been wrapped up in a tough case, and she had been able to put it at least partly out of her mind until the Internal Affairs investigators at Quantico had suddenly decided that, as Sadie’s new posting to Anchorage, Alaska, had turned out to be a lot busier than anyone could have expected, they would come to her.

She wondered if she was expected to thank them for the convenience.

It had always been going to happen, she knew, but now that it was here the possible consequences were beginning to take shape in front of her, threatening her with the potential of becoming reality. If it was decided that she had been less than honest in her account of the killing of the Gestalt Mangler, then she could lose her badge.

Worse, she could find herself accused of murder.

It was unlikely that it would ever go that far. Sadie was a national hero, credited with bringing down some of the worst killers in recent years. The Gestalt Mangler, as the press had dubbed him, had been her most high-profile case and the media pundits might have expected a medal rather than an investigation into Sadie herself. Right now, it was all being conducted very discreetly, but that could change.

She could only hope that the powers that be at Quantico, the FBI headquarters, weren’t about to throw their star investigator under the bus. She knew that her sudden request to be transferred to Alaska, at a time when her star was rising exponentially, could seem suspicious, as though she was running away from her own guilt.

Running away from the ghosts of the present straight back into the arms of the ghosts of the past. Sadie had been born and raised in Alaska, in the hinterlands on the outskirts of Anchorage, assuming that you could call her father’s often violent and neglectful parenting style in any way being “raised.” Nurturing, it was not.

But she had her reasons for returning, her sister’s still unsolved death being the main one.

There was no time to think about that now. Agent O’Hara, the Anchorage Field Office’s newest and youngest recruit, came into the outer office and smiled nervously at her.

“They’re ready for you, Agent Price.”

“Thanks.” Sadie stood up, took a deep breath, and walked into the room. O’Hara shut the door behind her, leaving them. He was too much of a rookie to be privy to an Internal Affairs investigation with a special agent of Sadie’s standing.

Golightly was there, though, sitting at the conference table with three Internal Affairs investigators. The stenographer was in the corner, ready to record her every word. Sadie swallowed and her throat felt like sandpaper.

As she greeted the investigators and took her seat, she scanned them quickly, not recognizing any of their faces. One was a woman in her fifties, with a gray bob that looked like a helmet and eyes that were just as hard. Of the men, it was obvious that Quantico had sent their finest, most polished-looking agents with chiseled jaws and an air of cold professionality. The youngest of them was pushing thirty, Sadie’s age, and looked as though he may be just a little more sympathetic than the woman and the older man. There was a little warmth behind his eyes at least.

“Agent Price. Shall we begin?” It was the woman, who had introduced herself as Special Agent Lawson, who began, her voice clipped and cool. There would be no emotion in the room, Sadie knew. Internal Affairs investigations were detail driven. Trying to defend her actions with a plea to the obvious terror of being cornered by one of the most s******c serial killers in history wasn’t going to help her.

She took a slow breath, her expression carefully neutral. Reminding herself to stick to her story. That she had done nothing wrong.

The Gestalt Mangler had deserved to die.

“It has come to our attention that there are discrepancies between your account of events on the night in question and the autopsy report on the body of Henry Aspen. You have of course been made aware of this,” Lawson began, looking down at the statement in front of her. She was clearly the lead on the investigation, but Sadie doubted she would be any easier on her simply because she was another female.

It was hard to think of the Mangler as Henry Aspen. It was such a normal, middle-of-the-road name for a man who had been nothing short of a monster. There was no one who was going to mourn him.

Nevertheless, the law was the law, and it was Sadie’s job to uphold it, not to take it into her own hands.

“Yes,” Sadie acknowledged the woman’s statement. What she wasn’t aware of was the nature of the discrepancies, although she was pretty sure she could guess.

Lawson wasted no time in getting straight to the point.

“Firstly, in your original statement you say that Aspen had you cornered, and that in your initial altercation your g*n had been kicked out of your reach.”

“Yes,” Sadie said again, trying not to remember the panic that she had felt at being potentially at the Mangler’s mercy. The terror of ending up like his victims, with their bodies unrecognizable after a terrifying, tortured death.

“Agent Price,” the younger of the men, Special Agent Seymour, cut in, “can you please take us through your account of the night in question?”

Sadie pressed her lips together, feeling nauseous again. It wasn’t a night that she wanted to relive. In spite of the cold inside and out, she felt herself beginning to sweat.

Nevertheless, her voice was calm as she recounted her statement, even as the memories assailed her.

The Mangler’s rancid breath in her face as he almost panted with excitement at the thought of her, his hunter, now becoming his prey. The sense of futility as she had realized that she couldn’t overpower him. Sadie wasn’t used to feeling powerless, not since she had been a little girl at the mercy of the whims of her father.

He’s going to t*****e me. The thought had occurred to her with astonishing clarity. He was going to t*****e her, and then she was going to die. And her whole life would have meant nothing.

Then her grasping fingers had found something hard…and she heard the sound of flesh crunching as she hit Aspen with all her strength…

“This is where the discrepancy comes in, Agent Price,” Lawson said, her cool tone slicing through Sadie’s memories. “You say that you hit Aspen in the head with the chunk of rebar once. Yet according to our autopsy report, there is indication that there may have been more than one blow. Perhaps even a succession of them.” Lawson’s voice was accusing, but Sadie heard the word “may” and felt some relief. That one word meant that they didn’t feel certain. It was a maybe.

“Yes, I did,” Sadie reaffirmed. “I hit Aspen with the rebar once, in the head.”

Almost imperceptibly, Lawson raised an eyebrow.

She didn’t believe her, Sadie could tell.

“You are absolutely certain of that?”

Sadie met the woman’s gaze head on. “Yes,” she said.

In the corner of the room, the stenographer’s hands moved furiously, recording every word.

“Very well. However, there is also another, perhaps more concerning, discrepancy,” Lawson continued. Sadie held her breath and said nothing, waiting for the woman to continue.

“The coroner is certain that the rebar killed Aspen, due to the force of the blows…”

“Blow,” Sadie corrected, her voice rising a little in annoyance.

“According to you, blow,” Lawson amended. “Aspen died due to the force of the blow to the head. And yet, you still shot him.”

“I did shoot him. Once,” Sadie confirmed. “I hit him with the rebar, then grabbed for my g*n and shot him before he could come at me again. He was armed. He had made his intentions towards me known.” Her voice wavered a little on the last words and she mentally tried to steel herself against what was now a physical memory of her fear and disgust.

She felt Golightly’s gaze on her, and her eyes flickered toward him. There was sympathy there. Golightly had been impressed with her when she had solved a trio of complex cases after her return to Alaska. She also suspected that the gruff native Alaskan would be thoroughly of the mindset that a little rough justice wasn’t always a bad thing, and the world was a better place without the Mangler.

“That’s also what your statement says,” Lawson went on, “but if it was the blow—or blows—that killed him, then he was no longer on the attack. There was no need for you to shoot him. It seems like overkill, Agent Price.”

She sounded more like a prosecutor than an Internal Affairs investigator with that comment, Sadie thought, feeling a flare of anger.

Overkill, Agent Price.

She remembered her finger around the trigger, the calm certainty as she had stood and watched him dying that she had done the right thing.

“In the moment, I had no way of knowing that the blow had killed him,” Sadie argued, aware that she sounded defensive and that her voice was beginning to rise. It wouldn’t help her. “It all happened in a matter of seconds. I hit him, dropped the rebar, grabbed for my g*n, and shot him. It was self-defense.”

Lawson went to speak but Seymour cut in. “You believe that you were acting in self-defense,” he said, and Sadie wasn’t sure if he was correcting her or validating her. Sadie looked into his eyes and was sure that she saw sympathy there too.

“Yes,” she said, “I do. I acted in fear for my life.”

Only Lawson looked unconvinced, and Sadie had the sinking feeling that it was going to Lawson’s judgment that carried weight.

There was a brief silence, and then a sudden knock at the door made Sadie jump in her seat.

It was Agent O’Hara. Golightly glared at him for interrupting.

“What is so important, Agent, that it couldn’t wait?”

O’Hara’s eyes swept around the room. He looked nervous. “It’s delicate, sir.”

Golightly got up and left the room. Sadie could hear them outside the door, speaking in hushed tones. She saw Lawson pressing her lips together as though angry at the interruption and suppressed a smile. This wouldn’t have happened down at Quantico, but this wasn’t Quantico; this was Alaska.

Golightly walked back into the room looking grim and Sadie felt herself tense. Something had happened. A new case? She felt a surge of adrenaline. She wanted to be back out there, not stuck in a stuffy room around a conference table.

“Agent Price? A word.” Golightly jerked his head toward the door. As Sadie stood up, Lawson looked from her to Golightly, her face angry.

“We are in the middle of an investigation,” she said.

“I apologize, but this is important,” Golightly said, holding the door open for Sadie. She excused herself and walked out of the room, turning to Golightly as the door shut behind him.

“Sir?”

“There’s been a call come in from one of the rigs up on the Beaufort coastline,” he said without preamble. Golightly rarely used more words than were necessary. “A murder.”

Sadie frowned. This didn’t sound anywhere near important enough for the ASAC to interrupt an important investigation.

Then she thought about the location. The Beaufort Sea was part of the Arctic Ocean, one of the least explored oceans in the world. Its coastline was a freezing, frigid place, more ice than land, at the northernmost part of the state. She had never been there, because it just wasn’t the sort of place anyone ever went to for a vacation.

As a result, it was unclaimed by any local police division, which meant that the murder would of necessity be passed to FBI.

“You want me to go and investigate,” she said. A statement, not a question. Golightly nodded, and Sadie shook her head.

“With respect, sir,” she said, trying not to show how pissed she felt, “any agent could take this on, surely? This investigation isn’t going away, and Lawson in there is already out for my blood. I can’t interrupt the investigation just to take a new case on.”

“I decide that, Agent Price,” Golightly said, although without any sign of anger at her refusal. “All of my best agents are still tied up on the child p*********y case that you uncovered over Christmas.”

“Agent O’Hara isn’t,” Sadie argued. She glanced at the door as though she could see through it, imagining the three Internal Affairs investigators getting more and more impatient. It was hardly going to endear her to them. “He needs to get his teeth into something. He’s still a rookie.”

“I’m sending him,” Golightly agreed, “but this could be sensitive. I don’t want a wet behind the ears new agent heading this up. Sure, I could pull one of the other agents off the kiddie case, but I want my best agent on this. That would be you.”

Sadie dipped her head with a slight smile, acknowledging the praise. Even so, she didn’t understand the rush.

Preempting her next question, Golightly said, “I’ve sent O’Hara to get you a flight. You will need to leave soon. As soon as you can, in fact. I’ll let the investigators know.”

Sadie hesitated. The last thing she wanted to do was give Lawson any more reason to distrust her. She wasn’t enamored of the idea of repeating the last half hour either.

“Don’t worry about the guys from Quantico,” Golightly assured her. “I’ll let them know it isn’t your fault. That I’m insisting you go because you’re my best agent. That can hardly go against you.”

“Thank you,” Sadie said, and then hesitated. “What makes it sensitive?” she asked, wondering for a moment if Golightly was just trying to get her out of the investigation.

“The body—one of the derrick hands—was found hanging from a crane on one of the platforms.”

Sadie frowned. “Okay. How do we know it wasn’t a suicide?” It was far from unheard of. Being a derrick hand on a rig was backbreaking, lonely work, and the Beaufort Sea was a desolate place.

“HIs hands were tied behind his back.”

She exhaled slowly. “Okay, that will do it. But I still don’t understand, what makes it sensitive? What are you not telling me?”

“I know as much as you, Agent Price,” he said, raising a bushy eyebrow. “But what do you think? You’re the brains.”

Sadie smiled tightly. She was already there.

This wasn’t the result of some kind of argument between the derrick hands, or someone with a personal grudge. No one hung a body from a crane unless they were trying to send a clear message.

This wasn’t just a murder.

It was an execution.