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“Shepherd has changed the schedule to allow us a few days home every few weeks, which Michael and I appreciate, and so do Evie and Dahlia,” BT said.
BT and Michael Cooper were the only two team members on the PGP Install Team who had significant others. Her team, Echo Team, consisted of Brody ‘BT’ Templeton as her Team Lead, Michael ‘Bubbles’ Cooper, and Sebastian ‘Crash’ Roth. The four of them, plus several members of Charlie Team, worked on the installs together, rotating out to fill staffing needs with other agency cases.
“That’s nice of him,” Laura Lee said. Over the past few days, she’d formed a different opinion of Shepherd.
BT laid his hand on her shoulder. “How are you doing?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“I’m fine,” she insisted.
“I’m impressed by how you handled that meeting yesterday morning. You did research, you had a recommendation, and you laid it all out in a concise and unemotional manner. I assume you’ve spoken with Lassiter to deal with the emotions,” BT said, his voice still hushed.
“Yeah, I talked to Lassiter immediately after that meeting and thank you, I gave that meeting a lot of thought and planning before I stepped foot in Shepherd’s office,” she replied quietly as she watched the other members of the PGP Install Team load their equipment into the agency SUVs. Garcia was already on board the Lear.
“I’m sorry you went through what you did since seeing West’s name on Bubbles’ paperwork. I wish you would have confided in me or someone else, anyone else. That had to be a crappy place to be, mentally, but I understand why you didn’t. “
“Thanks, BT.” She appreciated his words.
He nodded towards the plane. “I better let you get on board. I know they have a tight turnaround time. Good luck.”
“Thanks. Enjoy your time with Evie.”
She hurried to the plane and mounted the few stairs into it. After she greeted the pilots through the open cockpit door, she headed towards the rear of the aircraft. One of the pilots moved to the door to secure it. Garcia sat in the front area at the computer equipment.
“Join me up here,” Garcia invited.
Great. She tucked her backpack behind her seat, then sat, and buckled in. Moments later, the chime indicating the pilots were ready for takeoff sounded. She glanced back at Garcia. He already had his laptop hooked up to the console.
“Let’s review the file on this first woman we’re going to interview and make sure we’re on the same page in our approach,” Garcia said as he brought her file up, info, and picture. “Michelle Keslar from Roanoke, Virginia.”
“Yes, she definitely fits the profile,” Laura Lee said as the plane rolled forward. She was proud of the work she’d done to identify the potential victims and put the files together. “This past spring, as a junior, she was in one of West’s classes when she abruptly left the university after she was treated at the university’s clinic for injuries consistent with a sexual assault. She did not file charges and her medical record is noted that she claims the injuries resulted from rough sex with her boyfriend.”
“And she was a legal major,” Garcia added, his eyes fixed on the file. “Have you thought about what you’ll say to her to gain her trust?”
Laura Lee was surprised. She assumed Garcia would either take the lead or tell her how to handle it, as he was the senior member of the team, but she had given it some thought. “Yes, unless you object, I thought I’d share a part of my story without saying West by name or divulging the class he taught and see if she fills in the blanks or comes out with her story.”
“Six months after you were assaulted, would you have?”
Laura Lee shrugged. “I’m not sure. I guess it would depend on if I thought the person talking to me could really go after him and get justice for me.”
“Then you better present it that way to her,” Garcia said.
“Can I tell her we’re going to interview at least ten other women we think this happened to as well and that we’re building a case against him?”
“I like the angle that we’re investigating him. I think it’s okay as long as you don’t lead her to believe it’s a slam-dunk. Unless she and a few more recent victims come forward on the record, it won’t be,” Garcia said.
“I’d never lie to her,” Laura Lee defended. “If she is a victim, she’s been through enough.”
Through the window, Laura Lee saw that the plane was taxiing towards the runway. The chimes sounded again as the aircraft turned onto active. The speed increased as it ate up pavement before its nose pointed into the air and it gained altitude.
They ran through the info and plan on the second woman, who lived three hours from the first. She had reported a rape during her senior year while enrolled in one of West’s classes. She graduated two years earlier and worked as an associate at a legal partnership in Laura Lee’s home town of Richmond, Virginia.
From there, they’d make the two-hour drive and visit the parents of one of the young women who had committed suicide four years earlier. They lived in Norfolk. The woman’s father was still active-duty Navy. That was the visit that Laura Lee was dreading the most. The Shepherd Security Lear would pick them up there.
“Your family lives in Richmond, don’t they?” Garcia asked.
“Yes. I wish we had time for me to see my mom while we’re in town. I know she was disappointed she couldn’t travel when I had my surgery. I downplayed how serious it was so she wouldn’t worry.”
“We’ll have time for you to have a short visit,” Garcia said. “After we land, call her and let her know you’ll be stopping by.”
