Forests of the Night Read Free Page A

called, anatomical analysis of facial actions. This man knew his infraorbital triangle from his nasolabial furrow, and he was trying to fine-tune his computer program in facial recognition so it could sort out lies from truth, dangerous men from harmless ones. Charlotte had read up on him. Fedderman was renowned in his circle of scholars and researchers. Now he was trying to cash in, it seemed to her, make the jump from academia to where the serious money was, real-life applications.
    But at that moment there was no artifice in the good doctor’s face. He was so furious he was forced to swallow twice before he could speak again.
    â€œAfter lunch we’ll be doing faces alone,” Fedderman said. “Head shots. No body language, no other clues to put the expressions in context. Significantly more challenging than the scenarios you’ve been watching. More subtle and far more complex. This has just been the warm-up.”
    â€œNo offense, Doc, but I’m out of gas. Two weeks of this is plenty. There’s real-life felons that need attending to.”
    Fedderman squeezed his lips into a smile that even a blind man could tell was insincere.
    â€œLieutenant Rodriguez has volunteered your services for as long as I might need them. So we’ll see you at one o’clock on the dot. Faces in isolation. Have a lovely lunch, Monroe.”

    â€œMay I?”
    The short man with a rigid crew cut held a cafeteria tray and nodded at the empty seat beside Charlotte.
    She said, “Sure,” and the man sat.
    A Caesar salad on his tray and a mug of coffee. He wore a blue shirt and dark trousers and a smile that was a little too twitchy.
    â€œCharlie Mears,” he said. “Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
    He slid his business card across the table and she took it. Only his name and a cell number.
    â€œOfficer Charlotte Monroe,” she said, and held out a hand. He took it and for an awkward second he seemed to consider bringing it to his lips. Then he squeezed it and let it go.
    She had that effect on some men, bringing out their latent gallantry. Though she’d never understood why. The woman she saw in the mirror was no stunner. Brown hair worn in a no-fuss straight cut that brushed her shoulders. Her eyes were hazel and on first glance appeared gentle, even vulnerable, but with a closer look, people usually caught the metallic flash of the woman she was. Focused, stubborn, with a low tolerance for bullshit. At five-foot-six, she was ten pounds too heavy to be called willowy. Most of those ten she’d earned in the gym, low weight, lots of reps. She’d inherited her mother’s jutting cheekbones and bronze complexion. Her mouth was a size larger than the fashion magazines endorsed. She’d been told it was her father’s mouth, though she’d never met the man.
    Across the table, Mears looked at his watch, then speared a few leaves of lettuce and munched thoughtfully.
    â€œTo come to the point, Monroe. We’ve been following your progress with Dr. Fedderman. You’ve done quite well.”
    â€œThanks.”
    When he’d swallowed, he said, “Actually, ‘quite well’ is a gross understatement. You’ve had remarkable results. So remarkable that I came down from D.C. especially to meet you.”
    She had a sip of tea and looked around at the bare walls of the cafeteria.
    â€œIt’s just instincts,” she said. “Intuition and a little luck, no big deal.”
    She took a bite of her turkey sandwich, then laid it aside. Tried one of the potato chips. Stale.
    â€œOh, no. It is a big deal, Monroe. A very big deal.”
    â€œNot to me it isn’t.”
    â€œReason I’m here is, I’m heading up a new, somewhat unorthodox task force at the bureau. By traditional criminal science standards what we’re doing might be considered experimental. It’s forensics, but not the tweezers, microscope, black light