Free The Bone Chamber by Robin Burcell Page A

ended with so many hits, she gave up. But the Smithsonian was as good a start as any, and she pulled open Scotty’s printer, removing several sheets of paper from the paper tray, then a pencil from his desk. If she was going to figure out what the hell was going on, why her friend was killed, she’d need a fairly good likeness of the Jane Doe she’d sketched in Quantico. And there were two things in her favor. One, she was a good artist. Two, she had an excellent memory of what she’d already drawn. Now all she had to do was complete another sketch of her Jane Doe.
    “For you, Tasha. I’m going to find out who did this.”

6
    Sydney called the D.C. police department from the car. Amber Jacobsen, the records supervisor, was a cultivated contact from Syd’s days working in the capital, cultivated because Amber’s finger was on the pulse of what was going on in that town, and it always paid to have a friendly face when it came to dealing with the local law enforcement. Sydney had always been careful to reciprocate any favors.
    “MPDC, Records, Jacobsen speaking.”
    “Hey, girl. It’s Fitz.”
    “To what do I owe the honor?”
    “I was hoping you might be able to clue me in on any unsolved Jane Does in your area?”
    “Not a one that I know of, why?”
    “Just handled a forensic sketch, and was curious if the victim came out of your area. It was pretty brutal,” she said, and left it at that, since the case was CIA’s and she had no idea what was going on with it. She’d already had one friend killed, she didn’t need another. “Might have occurred at the Smithsonian or nearby.”
    “Now that I would’ve heard about. I’ll double check with Dennis, but believe it or not, for D.C., we’ve been prettyquiet. Well, up until the bank robbery today. Nothing but the usual, and a couple gang killings the past few weeks. Since they’re only killing each other, not even the reporters are getting excited. Hey, that’s my other line,” she added, the phone ringing in the background. “I’ll call you if I hear anything on any Jane Doe murders.”
    “Thanks.”
    By the time Sydney arrived at the Smithsonian castle parking lot, doubts had hit her about this being the location. The color of the building was right, but surely there would’ve been some sort of rumor. All doubts fled the moment she saw the building up close. The large blocks of stone looked very much like what she’d seen in the crime scene photo.
    She carried two sketches in her soft-sided briefcase, one of the woman’s face, the other of what she recalled from the crime scene. It was this one she looked at, trying to get a feel for its location on the property, and she walked around, stopped only once by a security guard who suddenly appeared through a side door from the building. The grounds were undoubtedly monitored, and she was off the beaten path.
    The guard was a good six inches taller than her five-nine frame. His uniform shirt was strained at the buttons and at the pants’ pockets, as though he’d gained considerable weight since he’d purchased the uniform. His smile was guarded as he looked her over. “May I help you?” He had a slight accent, something Eastern European.
    She pulled her credentials from her briefcase, held them open for him. “I’m looking into a report that a woman might have been assaulted here, possibly even murdered.”
    He tucked his thumbs in his belt, shaking his head. “If there was any crime on these grounds, we’d be notified, especially something that serious.”
    “Nothing in the past few days? Weeks…? Months?” she added when she received no reaction.
    “I’ve only worked here a few weeks. If anything happened before that, I have no idea.”
    “Mind if I have a look around?”
    “You have a card? I’ll call my superior, let him know.”
    She handed him one from her briefcase, then pulled out the sketch of the Jane Doe. “Do you recall ever seeing this woman around here?”
    He eyed the