Page 23 of Dead Drift

Declan stood, striding for the door. “I’ll have the techs start combing through the students attending Stanford and Cal Tech at the same time as Bedan, then cross-reference them with anyone currently working at the CDC or Detrick.” He paused in the doorway and looked at Luke. “Then I want to hear your theories, concrete or not.”

10

Griffin and Finley entered Detectives Hood and Eason’s precinct. Finley took a seat in the waiting area while Griffin stepped up to the intake desk.

A few minutes later, a tall, robust man with a friendly smile approached.

“Detective McCray?” he said as Griffin stood.

“Yes.”

“Detective Clint Eason.”

“Nice to meet you. And this is my wife, Dr. Scott-McCray.”

“I know it’s a mouthful,” Finley said.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He shook her hand. “Why don’t you follow me back to my desk?”

He led them to a set of back-to-back desks in the center of the large room where another man, of similar build to Eason, sat flipping through a file. Phones were ringing, criminals in various stages of the booking process slouched in chairs, and Eason’s and, presumably, Hood’s desks sat smack in the center of all the commotion. How they could even think with all the noise was beyond Griffin, and yet hope sparked inside him for the first time since leaving Agent Thornton’s office. Maybe they’d get a lead here.

“This is my partner, Detective Joel Hood,” Eason said.

Hood politely stood. “Nice to meet you. I was just referring back to Ashley’s file. Clint said that’s why you’re here.”

“Primarily,” Griffin said, sparking interest in the man’s green eyes.

“Go ahead and take a seat. Make yourselves comfortable.” Eason gestured to the two chairs positioned on the right side of the two old-school black metal desks. The chairs were old-school as well, metal frame with brown tweed upholstery on the seat and back. Griffin pulled one back for his wife, the metal legs grating along the cheap, clearance-section flooring.

“So you’re here about Ashley Carson and . . . ?” Eason asked.

“And anything you might know about the other women.”

Eason’s face went slack. “Other women?”

“Didn’t Federal Agent Burke contact you about Ashley’s case?”

“Yes, Burke called asking about Ashley, but he didn’t say anything about other women,” Hood said, scooting his chair to better face them. “But you’ve definitely got our attention.”

Griffin shared all the pertinent details, and Eason and Hood both sat back, shock plastered across their faces.

“I had no idea,” Hood said. “Burke just asked about Ashley. Never said anything about a possible serial killer.”

That was strange. Griff would have led with that had he been Burke, but perhaps he hadn’t wanted to cloud the detectives’ judgment while he obtained information about Ashley’s case. Perhaps he wanted to know about each case individually before pursuing them as a whole—especially since Thornton was the one running that part of the investigation and it was in Bureau hands. Burke probably had zero desire to start a jurisdiction war.

“Are you looking into all the cases?” Eason asked.

Griffin nodded.

“And I assume you have a possible connected case you’re working from your jurisdiction?”

“I’m afraid so.” Jenna.

Eason and Hood filled them in on Ashley Carson’s case and how her boss had been the top suspect since the two were having an affair. She’d disappeared after meeting him at a hotel one night, supposedly headed for the bus stop, but she was never seen again.

“I assume you considered the boss, but there wasn’t enough evidence to make it stick?” Griffin asked.

“Yes,” Hood said. “He said he stayed the night in the hotel. He ordered room service, and the attendant who delivered it a half hour later provided his alibi.”