The door to Morwood’s office—former office—was open, and she knocked on its metal frame. “Come in,” a baritone voice sounded.
Corrie stepped inside.
She was surprised to find the office looked about the same. Morwood’s bric-a-brac was missing from the desk, and a few framed commendations had been removed from the walls, but all the furniture was in the same position, and neither the landscape paintings nor the shelves of books had been touched. This, along with her eagerness to meet Morwood’s replacement, sent a stab of both guilt and grief through Corrie’s heart. She wasn’t sure if this lack of change was due to the senior agent’s recent arrival, out of respect for Morwood, or maybe both. But it drove home the fact that her mentor had been a very private person—and had never put much of himself on display.
The new inhabitant of the office rose as she came in. She was struck by how young he looked in comparison to Morwood, then realized he had a kind of face that made it difficult to guess his age: he could have been thirty-five, or a decade older. His suit, clean shave, and haircut were all FBI issue, but there was something about him—maybe his friendly, unguarded smile, or the way that half a dozen open files were spread across his desk without false pretense of order—that reminded her of Agent Pendergast’s insouciant disregard for red tape.
“You must be Agent Corinne Swanson,” he said. “Very glad to meet you. Please, have a seat.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said. Unconsciously, she made for the chair she usually chose, then decided on the one next to it instead. “I wanted to thank you for agreeing—”
He stopped her rush of words by raising his hands, imitating surrender. “Please don’t,” he said. “For one thing, I’m not sure how long my case will keep me here, although it might be longer than expected. For another, you might find I’m an insufferable tyrant.”
He smiled again, and she nodded, chancing a brief smile of her own. The relief she’d first felt at being given an interim mentor grew. Not only did this mean she was going to stay on track, career-wise, but her new mentor clearly understood the situation and seemed to be going out of his way to put her at ease.
“I’ll tell you what,” he continued, running a hand through his chestnut hair. “This being our first meeting, I’ll do most of the talking. Maybe let you relax a little. I can imagine you’ve had plenty on your mind this weekend.”
“Thank you,” she repeated, then quickly added: “Sir.”
“First, though, I wanted to tell you how badly I feel about Hale Morwood’s death. I know it must have hit you hard. I never met him personally, but he was well respected among his peers, and he survived a couple of escapades early in his career that old-timers still like to recount. Maybe I can share one or two of them with you sometime.”
“I would welcome that, sir.”
“Probably the biggest favor I can do is to catch you up on the investigation of the fire. It’s still in the early stages, of course. No accelerants were found—but then, it could hardly be arson in the FBI’s own basement. Whatever caused it, the fire was fierce—I’m afraid there’s not much left.” He paused. “As for Agent Morwood, the initial findings are death by asphyxiation. The M.E. will have a more complete report in a day or two, after the autopsy is complete. You’re welcome to join me for his review…if that’s something you’d care to do, of course.”
“Yes, sir. I would.”
“Maybe by then we’ll have some sense of what he was doing in the building so late—although I understand he was a night owl by habit.” He raised his eyebrows, turning the statement into a question.
“Yes, he was.”
“Good. Now, let’s talk about what’s been occupying your time. The—” he lifted a couple of folders from his desk, moving them around until he found what he was searching for— “the two unidentified bodies, shot and buried in the vicinity of Roswell. I’ve taken a glance over the file, but I’d rather get the details directly from you. After all, it’s your case.” He smiled again, and his eyes twinkled just a little mischievously.
Corrie took a deep breath. Briefly, she laid out the facts of the case—they could be summed up in depressingly few sentences.
“Thank you,” he said when she finished. “And your next steps?”
“Well, just this morning, I got the report back on the four stainless steel crowns.”