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“That Cloke had made so many trips? Or that you knew about them?”
“Hard to tell with these mooks. He was about to disconnect when I dropped the S-bomb.”
“Serial killer.” Though eager to share my own breakthrough—maybe breakthrough—I was also curious about what Monck had learned.
“I briefed Carmichael on the facts—the gunshot CODs, the severed hands, the vics all being good-lookers and newly arrived on the island. I explained that his boy has been in the wind since landing here last—”
“That got his attention?”
“After sitting on hold long enough to smoke a brisket, I was bounced up the chain to a guy named Rossiter.”
“Probably an SSA.” Supervisory special agent.
“Rossiter sounded about as engaged as a DOA on Ambien, but his interest perked up as I went through the whole shitspiel again. He asked questions. Was maybe taking notes.”
“Oh?”
“While prohibited from divulging classified intel, Rossiter was willing to share that Cloke was assigned to a group overseeing assets such as power grids, radar systems, and navigational programs.”
“Sounds like most of the OTD.”
“I pointed that out. Rossiter didn’t disagree.”
“Did he say why Cloke made multiple trips to Provo?”
“He had no comment.”
“Did he know why Cloke was interested in Uri Stribbe?”
“No comment.”
“Did he know why Cloke phoned Joe Benjamin?”
“Same answer.”
“Did the jackass sayanythinguseful?”
Crank it down, Brennan.
“According to Rossiter, his underling has aspirations.”
“Meaning Cloke is ambitious?”
“Or the guy chafes the boss’s balls.”
“What about JR?”
Monck snorted air through his nose. “JR is a toothless, seventy-six-year-old hag who builds bed swings using sustainable materials. Juniper Rose. No last name.”
“Musgrove was ordering a bed swing?”
“A white one with blue cushions.”
“Suswas an abbreviation for sustainable, not suspect.BSwas code for bed swing.”
“Affirmative.”
“What about Glen Wall?”
