The sun was hanging low on the horizon by the time they hauled Ollie out in his body bag. Outside the window, the low-rent district where Oliver Smith met his end looked sad under the fading August sun. Inside, the light was merciless when it found its way through the dirty windowpanes. It bumped up the smell of garlic, old deer meat and onion. It outstripped the pitiful air conditioning and put beads of sweat on poor Mac’s face. The detective was already showing stress at being caught between the immovable FBI agent and the hard-as-a-rock Deputy Marshal, Jake noted with amused sympathy.
The techs faded away in a discreet hurry, leaving Jake to finish up with Bryn, who was seated in front of the computer. Mac went out, too, muttering something about getting them all something cold to drin
