CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Faith didn’t think she would actually be able to sleep that night, but the next thing she remembered was Michael shaking her awake. She blinked and groaned, “What time is it?”
“Nine.”
That brought her right to alertness. “Nine? Why did you wake me up so late?”
“Because you needed sleep. You kind of melted down a little last night. Turk’s clearly got something going on with his nose, and it threw you off.”
She flinched. “What do you mean, he has something going on with his nose.”
Michael sighed. “David kicked me out of the hospital to tell you something in private. Since then, you’ve been worried. Turk’s clearly not on his A-game, and last night, he excitedly pointed out an empty trash can.”
“There could have been something in that trash can.”
“But there wasn’t, which is why you didn’t tell Cuthbert to have CSI look at it.”
Faith frowned and looked away.
“I’m not going to argue with you about Turk,” Michael said. “I know it’s tough to deal with him getting older, and I know you’ll get through it.”
Faith pressed her lips together and nodded. “We don’t know if it’s anything to be concerned about yet. He’s going to retest in a couple of weeks, and then we’ll know.”
“Okay. That’s fine with me. I trust you. In the meantime, you needed rest, yes?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes.”
Michael grinned. “Poor Faith. I’m so sorry you have to accept that you’re human.”
She threw her pillow at him, and he laughed and ducked out of the way. “There’s coffee and breakfast on the table. It’s to go because while you got your beauty rest, I started calling people on the list. Made it to name nine and learned something pretty damned interesting.”
Faith’s irritation vanished. “Yeah?”
“Yep. Get changed. We’re going to the corporate offices of Global Wildlife Experiences.”
***
In the car, Michael explained what he’d learned. “So I talked to Dr. William Orville. He’s the avian expert at Big Wilderness. Turns out he knows—knew—Dr. Vasquez. They worked together at the Henry Doorly Zoo ten years ago. Evidently, Dr. Vasquez was fired when she botched several operations in a row. The internal investigation revealed that Dr. Vasquez had a habit of drinking on the job.”
“So her negligence led to animals being hurt.”
“Killed.”
“Well, there’s our motive and more evidence that our killer is attacking people who abuse animals.”
“Yep. I did some research, and it turns out that the Henry Doorly Zoo was owned by Global Wildlife Experiences at the time they both worked there. The incident with Dr. Vasquez and a couple of unrelated financial irregularities led to the business selling the zoo and restructuring. I called the CEO of Global Wildlife, and he’s agreed to speak to us if we promise to keep his name out of the media.”
Faith frowned. “We can’t guarantee that.”
“No, and I told him that. But I did guarantee that his name would be the first one out of my lips if he didn’t cooperate with our investigation.”
Faith lifted an eyebrow. “I’m impressed. Normally I have to be the bad cop.”
“Well, you were sleeping.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s what I get for trying to thank you.”
“What? You were sleeping.”
***
They reached the Global Wildlife building fifteen minutes later. Downtown Omaha was far from what Faith would consider bustling, but it was a much livelier place than Council Bluffs. That, combined with the sleep, the coffee and the prospect of another lead had Faith feeling focused and energetic when they walked inside.
The receptionist blanched when she saw the FBI uniforms. She picked up a phone and said something into it. Faith guessed she was warning the boss. When the agents approached, she plastered a smile on her face and said, “Good morning! How may I help you?”
“We’re here to speak with Mr. Thurman,” Faith replied.
“Of course! Let me see if he’s available.”
“He’s available,” Michael interjected. “Because he told me he was. And I made it very clear what would happen if he wasn’t available.”
The receptionist maintained her Barbie doll smile but swallowed nervously. “Of course. I’ll let him know that you’re on your way up.”
“Thank you. And where will we find Mr. Thurman?”
“His office is the second one to the right on the ninth floor. Um...” She looked around nervously, then leaned forward and asked. “Is everything okay? Are we in trouble?”
“You aren’t,” Faith replied. “We’ll see if Mr. Thurman is.”
They left the receptionist white as a sheet at her desk. When they were in the elevator, Faith asked, “You think we’ll catch him shredding documents?”
“I think all the shredding’s been done before we arrived,” Michael replied. “The key will be to convince him that talking to us is the best way to keep himself out of trouble.”
“Do we think there’s a reason he would be in trouble?”
“It depends on what he’s covered up and how much. Probably not, but it wouldn’t surprise me too much if he has a good idea who the killer is.”
“Well, let’s not get too ahead of ourselves,” she warned. “Right now, we’re just asking about Dr. Vasquez.”
The three of them reached Mr. Thurman’s office to find him standing behind his desk with his hands behind his back. He looked sick with worry, but when he saw the agents, that expression vanished behind a smile far more natural-looking than the one the receptionist gave them on the ground floor. “Good morning, agents! Thank you for coming to see me.”
“Thank you for having us,” Faith replied. “Did my partner tell you why we’re here?”
“Yes. You needed to confirm dates of employment for Dr. Elena Vasquez. I am a little confused why you're here in person. Normally, that conversation is a phone call."
“The confusion might stem from the fact that I didn’t say we were here to confirm dates of employment,” Michael replied. “Although that is one of the questions we’d like answered.”
Mr. Thurman offered an apologetic look. "Well, unfortunately, in order to respect the privacy of our employees, I'm unable to provide any information other than dates of employment."
“That would be true if we were headhunters recruiting for an employer,” Faith corrected. “But we’re FBI agents investigating three murders, at least one of whom was a former employee of yours.”
Mr. Thurman’s brow furrowed. “At least?”
“Yes. Can you confirm if Marcus Reeves and Alison Chen ever worked for Global Wildlife Experiences?”
Thurman’s shoulders stiffened. “The names don’t sound familiar.”
“But you can confirm dates of employment, right?” Michael pressed.
Mr. Thurman’s eye twitched when he realized the trap he had stepped into. “I can put in a request for that information, sure. It will take some time to find it. We’ve employed a lot of people at our various zoos and aquariums.”
Faith was done being patient. “Mr. Thurman, Marcus Reeves had his throat torn out. Alison Chen was poisoned with snake venom. Dr. Vasquez bled out after tennis-ball-sized chunks of her flesh were gouged out of a half-dozen different places on her body. I really don’t care about the risk this line of questioning poses to your corporation.”
Mr. Thurman’s smile faded. “I understand that, agent,” he said calmly, “but I do. I have to. It’s not just my livelihood at risk. Global Wildlife Experiences employs over forty-five hundred people at fourteen different locations across North America. Bad press doesn’t only affect the guilty.”
“Refusing to cooperate with an FBI multiple-murder investigation is pretty bad press, Mr. Thurman.”
The CEO sighed. “As your partner pointed out, I am legally required to respond to requests confirming employment within a reasonable timeframe. I have agreed to do that. I’m sorry for being rude, but I don’t see why we need to continue speaking at the moment.”
“Because one of your former employees is dead, Mr. Thurman,” Faith replied. “Judging by your reaction, I believe three of your former employees are dead. How many more will die while you’re too busy covering your ass?”
Thurman swallowed but maintained his stance. “I’m sorry, Special Agent. My condolences to the families of the victims, but I have my job.”
“And we have ours,” Michael retorted. “And I will use mine to drag your name through the mud in every single news publication who’s willing to spend five minutes talking to me.”
“You’ll ruin the lives of nearly five thousand people to throw a tantrum because I won’t exceed the mandate of the law? Frankly, Special Agent, that’s a fight I’m willing to take to court.”
Michael held his gaze for a moment. Then he shrugged. “All right. I’ll let the Bureau know. By the way, how do you spell your first name? Ah, never mind. I’ll look it up.”
The three agents started toward the door. Faith put her hand on the handle and started to turn when Thurman called, “Wait.”
The three of them turned their heads toward the beleaguered CEO. Turk growled softly. Thurman sat behind his desk and rubbed his eyes. “All right. I’ll cooperate. Just… Look, I’m not kidding. If we get bad press, a lot of people will suffer. Our reputation is already shaky at best. We can’t risk things getting any worse.”
“If you give us what we need to know, we’ll do our best to keep your name out of the media. If it ends up in the media, we’ll make sure people know you cooperated fully.”
Thurman nodded and stared bleakly past them into the empty office on the opposite side of the hallway. “You two want coffee?” he said mechanically.
“We’re all right,” Faith replied.
Michael shook his head, and Thurman stood. “Well, I’m going to make some. If you change your mind, let me know.”
He stepped outside, and Faith turned to Michael with a slight smile. "Nice work."
Michael shrugged. “Don’t thank me yet. The ball’s in Thurman’s court now.”
“Think he’ll talk?”
“Oh, he’ll talk,” Michael replied. “The question is whether anything he says will be the truth.”
Or whether we’ll be able to see through a lie , Faith thought soberly.