“Hey, no need to apologize,” Harv said and released her. “This is just what the doctor ordered. You look great. Everything okay? You made a full recovery?”
She patted her stomach. “I lost my gallbladder, but that’s not the end of the world.”
“I’m sorry,” Nathan said.
“The bullet missed my spine by an eyelash. All things being equal, I’m just glad to be alive. And walking.”
“Amen to that,” Harv added.
“I owe you guys my life.”
“That debt,” he said, “goes both directions. You took a bullet for us.”
Though as attractive as any woman he’d known, Grangeland had incredible physical strength, which, when combined with her combat training, made her a tough opponent. Under adversarial circumstances when they first met, Grangeland had challenged him to an open-handed fight-minus any head blows-and to his shock and admiration, she’d wrestled him into a half nelson in mere seconds. A rocky start, but their friendship had grown closer ever since. After the dust had settled, she told them she preferred being called Grangeland, not Mary. He had a hard time picturing her as “Mary” anyway. While working, she wore her hair in a utilitarian ponytail. Her eyes and strong cheekbones gave her a distinct Scandinavian look. Nathan had never asked her age but guessed she must be in her early thirties. Never married, it seemed. He’d have to ask about that sometime.
A tanker truck rumbled up to refuel the helicopter. The driver slid out and did a double take at Grangeland. She probably got that all the time. She smiled and the driver smiled back.
Despite himself, Nathan found his mood lifting.
The three of them started toward the jet center.
“You guys realize that you’ve become something of a legend in our Fresno office, don’t you?” asked Grangeland. “Unofficially, you’re known as the Lone Ranger and Tonto.”
“Who’s who?” Harv asked.
Nathan said, “That’s kinda obvious, Harv. A white guy. A brown guy.”
Harv objected. “Hey, I’m the one with the silver horse.”
“You own a horse?”
“Eight of them.”
“I love riding.”
Nathan smiled. “I’ll bet you do.”
She punched his arm.
“What?”
Chapter 15
Nathan used the drive to the medical examiner’s office to fill Grangeland in on everything they could. The call from Holly. The meeting with General Hawthorne. Bullfrog Bay. Stiegler’s houseboat. The Kramer crime scene. Thorny’s removal from the case and the ironclad implication that Kramer’s murder and the abduction of Nichole Dalton and her daughters were all linked to Montez.
Nathan knew she had a ton of questions. He forestalled them by pointing at his face. “We’re after the man who did this to me.”
Grangeland winced. “What can you tell me about him?”
“Not too much. In a nutshell, one of our missions went south and I fell into his hands. Harv got away. I didn’t. I was held captive for three weeks.”
She softened her voice. “Nathan, I’m sorry.”
“It happened a long time ago. When Harvey rescued me, I was close to death. He carried me through two miles of jungle at night.”
“I know you guys are really close, I just never knew why.”
“His name is Colonel Juan Montez de Oca, formerly of the Sandinista National Liberation Front. He’s a professional interrogator.”
“How will you find him?”
“We may not. He’s a trained spook.”
“Did seeing the crime scene spark anything?”
“That’s why we’re here.”
Harv cut in. “As far as we know, Nathan’s the only person on Earth to survive a Montez interrogation. If Montez finds out Nathan’s alive, we might as well paint a target on his forehead. We’re trying to keep our involvement under wraps for as long as possible.”
“Understood. I’m yours for as long as you need me.”
Nathan let Harv continue. His thoughts were elsewhere.
“You’re a proven asset,” Harv said. “We definitely want you on our team.”
“Can you tell me anything about your past? What you guys used to do?”
“We were a Marine scout sniper team, then CIA operations officers. That’s about all we can say. Sorry.”
“I can live with that.”
“Holly said you have a master’s degree in forensics?”
“Criminal science with an emphasis on forensics.”
“You’ve already seen Kramer’s body?”
She nodded.
“What did you think?”
“Well, at that time I didn’t know a professional interrogator had killed Kramer. It looked like some sort of ritual killing, but I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Now that I know a bit more about the suspect, I’d have to say there’s a savageness to the injuries that goes beyond what an interrogator would inflict strictly to extract information. Either way, I suppose my best guess remains the same. Montez is a severely twisted individual, bordering on psychopathic.”
“He’s all that, and more,” Harv said.
The onboard nav took them east, through downtown toward the mountains. The pleasant female voice issued turn-by-turn directions and deposited them into a large complex of medical buildings and offices. He could still call this off, but each passing minute made the decision more difficult.
She parked, cut the engine, and pivoted to face Nathan. “It’s not too late.”
“Let’s just get this over with.”
Inside the brick building, Grangeland flashed her FBI badge to the receptionist, who made a call and said Dr. Salk would be right with them.
Nathan took another deep breath and exhaled slowly. He relaxed his hands and focused on Grangeland. She offered a reassuring smile. Harv seemed equally nervous, but was much better at concealing it.
A man in a gray business suit stepped out of a door and extended his hand to Grangeland first. Not unexpected. They’d already met.
“Thank you for seeing us,” she said. “This is Nathan McBride and Harvey Fontana.”
“I’m Dr. Jonas Salk, no relation.” No doubt he said that to everyone. In his mid-fifties, Salk had thinning hair that looked a shade too dark. “I’m the chief medical examiner.”
Dr. Salk looked over the top of his black-rimmed glasses, obviously fascinated by the scars. Nathan was sorely tempted to lean in close and turn his head from side to side so Salk could “examine” the damage in all its glory. “Doctor,” he said, and shook hands.
Salk recovered his composure. “Would you… ah… like a brief tour first?”
“Thank you,” Grangeland said, “but we’ve a got another appointment after this.”
“No problem. This way, please.”
They followed Dr. Salk down a short hall. Salk spoke as they walked. “We’ve got the body in our refrigeration room. I didn’t want to bring it out until you arrived. I should warn you, it’s one of the worse cases of mutilation I’ve ever seen. Whoever did it knew what he, or she, was doing. The victim’s submergence in water washed the exterior applications, but we found traces of QuikClot in the victim’s bloodstream. The only reasonable conclusion is that his attacker didn’t want him to bleed to death. The margins also indicated cauterization. There still would’ve been significant bleeding, just not as much.”
Harv looked back and mouthed the words, You okay?
He gave a tight nod. Montez hadn’t used a hot knife on him, but he had used a clotting agent that had stung like all hell.
They entered the examination room and he noticed the drop in temperature right away. It looked and smelled both sterile and chemical. Lots of shiny surfaces and stainless steel. Drainage sinks. Mobile instrument tables. Cabinets. Computer stations. Four autopsy tables lined one wall. A large stainless door on the far side of the room probably led to the walk-in refrigerator.
“I’ll need one of you to help me with the body.”