Monsters Got Blamed for Murder, So I Relived the Victim's Last Hour novel · Chapter 19 of 32

Chapter 19: Joliet

Felix's POV

Wednesday was Veterans Day, and a federal holiday is the one morning of the year the Bureau does not watch its own gates.

I drove to Joliet alone at five.

Hal and I had agreed on Tuesday night that she could not be seen within ten miles of the place.

The Director's security man knew her face now.

A guard in Joliet would know a stamp and not my face, which was the one advantage of six years of being nobody.

The Bureau's staging lot sat on the east bank of the Des Plaines River, behind a chain fence.

A rail spur ran from the lot into the back of a long brick warehouse.

It had been a cold-storage house for dairies once, and the sign was still painted on the brick.

The guard in the booth was a heavy kid in a gray jacket.

His hard hat sat on the dash beside a thermos of coffee going cold.

"No audit on the board for today, Inspector," he said.

"Audits aren't scheduled. That's the point of them."

I put my credentials on the sill, and then I took out my stamp and the gate form.

I stamped the form I-4471 in front of him.

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