“Very well, sir,” Corrie said. Transparency about what?
“As part of the preliminary investigation into the fire, I met with Dr. Lathrop earlier this morning. It is his, ah, recollection that—” another hesitation, this one briefer— “when you and he were together in the forensics lab yesterday, you did not observe proper safety protocols.”
Corrie was still concentrating on keeping the protective shell in place, and it took a moment for these words to sink in. “Excuse me. I did what?”
“As part of your work yesterday, you were warming Plasticine. Correct?”
Corrie nodded.
Now at last the folder came out. Garcia opened it, glanced over a page or two. “Dr. Lathrop has stated, for the record, that you were not following guidelines for use of a Bunsen burner.” Another glance at the page. “He said there was combustible material in the vicinity of the flame. He also stated that you had not inspected the hose for defects such as pinch points. Finally, he said this was a behavior he’d seen in you before—leaving a burner unattended, leaving the primary gas valve on after you were done, and the like.”
As Garcia spoke, Corrie felt the protective bubble melt away and a combination of disbelief, hurt, and anger take its place. “Sir, are you saying Lathrop is accusing me of leaving a burner on…and being responsible for that fire? The fire that killed my boss?”
Garcia put his hands up in a calming gesture; unconsciously, Corrie had begun to rise out of her chair. “Agent Swanson, please. I’m telling you all this now, at the start, as a courtesy, so you’ll have the full picture. Lathrop made no specific accusations. You are not suspected of anything. You know better than anyone we have teams of professionals who are expert in reconstructing events precisely like this one. They’ve already sealed off the lab and begun work. It’s their findings on the source of the fire that will determine what happened. Not a lone accusation. The recollections of Lathrop or other eyewitnesses—including yourself—are also important, but supplementary.”
The SAC let a silence fall. Once again, his bright eyes looked intently at Corrie. She had sunk back into her chair, once again in shock—but now of an entirely different kind.
Garcia cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, it was in a quieter, almost confidential tone. “What I just told you was by the book. Off the book, I’m truly sorry this has happened. In a fairer world, you’d be given time to mourn, rather than feel a need to defend yourself. Dr. Lathrop is—well, I think you’d agree he has a certain reputation. But the fact remains he’s been here many years and it’s our job to investigate his claims. I hope you’ll understand the necessity to ask you a few questions. Believe me: it’s much better this way.”
“Yes, sir.” Corrie drew in a shuddering breath. “Thank you, sir.”
Another clearing of the throat, and Garcia was once more his formal, commanding self. “This shouldn’t take long.” He plucked a pen from his pocket. “You told me last night that Morwood came by the forensics lab late in the afternoon. At that time, you and Lathrop were working?”
“I was working. Lathrop was watching.” She’d be goddamned if she ever gave that son of a bitch another break.
Garcia made a notation. “What were you engaged in at the time?”
“I was warming Plasticine in a container of water over…over a burner. For the facial reconstruction. It was necessary in order to apply musculature to the cast of the skull.”
“What did the three of you talk about?”
“Mostly about the chance of obtaining a usable ID from the reconstruction. Lathrop thought it likely; I thought it unlikely.”
“And what did Morwood think?”
“He seemed pleased with my progress. He specifically asked me to make the presentation at next Tuesday’s meeting.”
“And then Agent Morwood left.”
Corrie nodded.
“What happened next?”
“I— We had an argument. Lathrop and I.”
“About what?”
Corrie sighed. “Sir, he has a habit of belittling me. Making snide, sexist, demeaning comments that—when I point them out—he passes off as jokes. He’s been doing it as long as I’ve been here. He referred to me as a Cassandra in front of Morwood, which I felt was disrespectful. I said if he made another comment along those lines, I’d report him.”
“Understood.” Garcia was writing again.