The Catch by Archer Mayor Read Free Book Online

SAC who ran the Boston office.
    It was Botzow they were here to meet.
    The building was urban blandness personified—a sensation only heightened after Sam and Joe left the elevator and were ushered across the threshold of the ICE office, and herded through a maze of chin-level cubicles, most occupied by people either studying computer screens or talking quietly on the phone. Lacking was any sense of a high profile, hard-hitting bunch of action junkies. The men and a few women they passed appeared to be merely casually attired office workers, looking as if their only concern was finishing the day without stapling their thumbs or getting caught in traffic on the way home.
    To Sam, who’d never made it upstairs on her first visit, the overall effect was a little disconcerting. Joe, on the other hand, was quite comfortable with it all, anticipating the turns as they wended their way toward the corner office.
    Rufus Cole Botzow was a large bald man with remarkably bushy eyebrows, who came marching out of his lair with a broad smile and an extended hand as soon as he caught sight of them through his extensive inner glass wall.
    He brought them both into an office personalized by service plaques, a row of hanging law enforcement baseball caps, photographs of grinning, armed people in military fatigues, and a display of children’s art, mostly magnet-mounted to the front of several filing cabinets. It was the cave of a man who’d experienced a broad sampling of life’s offerings, some of them a little dicey.
    Botzow waved them to a pair of comfortable seats and settled himself behind a paper-strewn desk, also decorated with memorabilia.
    “Damn, Joe, it’s been a while. I can’t even remember when I last saw you. A year?”
    “Almost.” Joe smiled back at him. “You came up to hunt deer in New Hampshire and took a detour to visit.”
    Botzow laughed. “My God, you’re right. No wonder I spaced that out. Didn’t see a goddamn thing on that hunt. I thought about shooting a parked car, just to say I hit something.”
    Gunther gestured at the walls surrounding them. “Would’ve been a little hard to explain, mounted here.”
    Their host shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve got so much crap already, a car on the wall might not even be noticed. Why’d you drop by, Joe? All I know is that it’s got something to do with that deputy’s death you e-mailed me about.”
    “The shooter’s driver lives at this address.” Joe placed on the desk a printout of what they’d gathered so far on both Marano and Grega. “We think Grega pulled the trigger.”
    Botzow looked sympathetic. “Jesus—tough break. Not like that happens much in Vermont, right?”
    “Not much,” Joe admitted. “We had a cop killed in a hit-and-run a few years back, but the guy was caught right off. It turns the whole state inside out.”
    Botzow was nodding. “Right. Still, it’s a homicide.”
    Joe held up his hand. “I know, I know, and ICE doesn’t do that. We understand that. There is a border involvement, though. This car was fresh from entering at the Highgate checkpoint.”
    Botzow read the two printouts, speaking as he did so. “That’s interesting. They stop them there for any reason?”
    “No. They passed right through.”
    The SAC lowered the paperwork and studied him, his next question floating unasked between them.
    Joe pointed at the printouts. “Keep going. Eighty percent of their involvements are drug-related. I’m betting you have at least one of them in your databases.”
    But Botzow replaced the sheets flat on his desk, smiling. “Bullshit—you already
know
that much. You’re hoping we have an open case that’ll actually mention one of them.”
    Joe returned the smile and shrugged. “That would heighten your interest, wouldn’t it?”
    “And maybe make it official?” He shrugged. “Could be. Hang on.”
    He rose from his chair, circled the desk, and left the office. Sam turned to her boss and half whispered,