Doom With a View Page 6

  I shook my head ruefully. “Okay, maybe you’re right. Maybe you shouldn’t get tied down. Maybe you should find someone to fool around with one minute and dump the next. Maybe it’s just safer for everyone involved if you do.”

  Candice made her hand into a gun and said, “Pow! Now you’re talking.”

  The waiter came by and removed our plates, asking us if we wanted to see the dessert menu. I could feel the waistline of my new skirt pinching into me, so I declined, and shortly after, we had paid the bill and were ready to leave.

  As we stood up, something from the other side of the room caught my attention and I gasped as I realized none other than Brice Harrison had just entered the restaurant. A short man hurried over to him and I could hear him say, “Good evening, Agent Harrison! So good to have you back in town with us again. May I show you to your usual table?”

  Harrison hadn’t seen us yet and I elbowed Candice and nodded in that direction. “What the hell is he doing here?” she snapped.

  “Having dinner,” I said.

  “Do you think he followed us?”

  I asked the question in my head and my radar said no. “I don’t think so,” I told her. “But from what I just overheard the maître d’ say, I believe this is a regular haunt for him.”

  “Well then, let’s go,” she said. “This place doesn’t have as much charm with him here.” I led us over to the other side of the restaurant, keeping other dining patrons between us and Harrison on our way to the exit.

  As I reached the stairs, I turned to comment on what a great meal that was when I noticed Candice wasn’t behind me. With surprise I realized she was over at Harrison’s table, talking to him, the waiter, and the maître d’. I didn’t know what she said, but it obviously upset Harrison—his eyes smoldered meanly at her while the waiter and the maître d’ appeared in complete shock.

  With a little wave to them Candice turned and sauntered over to me on the stairs, chuckling like she’d just cooked someone’s goose. “What’d you do?” I demanded, climbing the stairs quickly.

  Candice’s chuckle deepened. “I merely told Harrison—within earshot of the staff of his favorite restaurant, mind you—that I hoped that pesky little business with Internal Affairs over the sexual harassment allegations from one of his fellow agents was ironed out quickly and that he was eventually cleared of any wrongdoing.”

  I gasped. “You didn’t!”

  Candice’s chuckle became a hearty laugh. “Oh, Abby! You should have seen the look on his face!”

  “Oh, I saw it,” I said. “And may I remind you that we will be spending a lot of time with him over the next couple of days?”

  Candice waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, come on,” she said. “The guy obviously needs to lighten up, and if he can’t take a little joke, who needs him?”

  While I agreed with her that Harrison really could use a little levity in his life, I didn’t know if he’d appreciate it coming from us, but as Candice was getting such a kick out of it, I decided not to rain on her parade. Still, these little games between Harrison and my partner were quickly reminding me of a kindergarten playground.

  The next morning found us back at the field office. Gaston had left us a message requesting that we report in about ten a.m. We were seated in the lobby again at nine forty-five, and at nine fifty a female agent appeared to escort us up to the sixth floor. She led us down a different corridor from our previous visit, through a maze of cubicles into a large conference room, and asked both of us if we would care for any refreshments. Candice and I both took coffee and waited in the empty room for someone to come in.

  As we waited, Candice made a comment or two about the weather, but I didn’t feel like talking. For some reason I was even more nervous today than yesterday. I didn’t have long to dwell on it because at exactly ten o’clock the doors opened and several agents began filing in, each carrying a Styrofoam cup of coffee or a bottle of water. The mood was expectant and serious as they all took their places. Several of the men took notice of me and I could tell they were curious, but other than a “hello” or “good morning,” they didn’t engage us in conversation.

  The last two to arrive were Harrison—who took his seat without making eye contact with us—and Gaston.

  Gaston took his place at the head of the table and surveyed the group gathered around the conference table. “Good morning,” he said, his voice confident and strong. “Thank you all for attending this meeting. As you know from your SACs, I’ve asked each of you here to address the investigation of three missing college students from neighboring states, all with a parent in the state legislature. As the circumstances of each individual disappearance are similar, we wanted to put this task force together to investigate what I feel is a strong connection. And as I am the lead on this task force, I thought it appropriate to call in any available resource at our disposal.”

  Gaston made a point of locking eyes with me, and I had to give the guy credit, because I knew he was putting his butt on the line by including me. “Agents, with us today are Abigail Cooper and Candice Fusco. Ms. Cooper is a very gifted investigative intuitive, and has helped our local Michigan bureau on a number of cases. Her input into those cases undeniably helped the investigation, and in several of them, were it not for her insight, those cases would still be open.”

  I felt several sets of eyes swivel to me, but most of the expressions around the table were unreadable—except for Harrison’s. He barely hid his contempt. I nodded at a few of the men looking at me, and Gaston continued. “Her partner, Candice Fusco, is a licensed PI and an old friend to the FBI. I won’t go into the details of our shared history here, gentlemen, but suffice it to say that I consider Ms. Fusco to also be a valuable asset to this investigation. And I want to make it clear that both women will be allowed access to the facts of this case and utilized to the best of their talents and abilities.”

  “And I would like to state for the record, sir, that I strongly protest their involvement,” Harrison said, and I was shocked by his lack of diplomacy.

  Gaston merely waved a hand in Harrison’s direction and said, “Yes, Agent Harrison, your objection is again noted. Now let’s brief our guests on the facts we have at hand. I am anxious to hear Ms. Cooper’s impressions on the evidence gathered so far. Agent Albright, if you would be so kind as to detail the facts.”

  A man I’d put in his late twenties stood up and began to pass out folders. “What we know is contained within these files,” he began. “On May eleventh of this year Bianca Lovelace, of Battle Creek, Michigan, left her dorm room at Michigan State University to attend a study group sometime before eight p.m. She never arrived at the study group and no one has seen or heard from her since.”

  I opened the folder and pulled out an eight-by-ten glossy photo of a beautiful girl with shiny brown hair and a gorgeous smile. My heart immediately sank. Bianca’s image appeared flat to my eye—like a deflated balloon—and I knew the poor girl was dead. I swirled my fingers over the photo when I felt a little nudge from Candice. Looking up into her eyes, I knew she was asking me if I thought Bianca was alive. I shook my head and set the picture on the tabletop.

  Agent Albright was continuing with the details. He’d already moved on to the second missing student, a young man named Kyle Newhouse, from Ohio, who had vanished exactly one week after Bianca. “This one is a similar scenario; according to his classmates, Newhouse had attended his last class and was heading to the library to study for finals and was never seen again. Security cameras posted at the front entrance of the library do not indicate Kyle ever entered the building. His father is a state senator.”

  I sifted through my folder until I found Kyle’s photo. He was a great-looking kid, robust and muscular, and I couldn’t imagine him being overpowered by anyone easily. But his picture told me that Kyle had definitely breathed his last. Again I could feel Candice’s eyes on me. I shot her a side glance and gave another small headshake.

  “Five days after Newhouse
goes missing, our final victim disappeared,” Albright continued. “Leslie Coyle, a resident of Madison, Wisconsin, had just finished her freshman year at the University of Wisconsin and was heading home. Her roommate was there as she took the last load down to her car, and they said good-bye. Coyle never reached home and her car has never been found.”

  Again I flipped through the folder to a blurry photo of Leslie. The picture was of such poor quality that I couldn’t really tell if she was dead or alive, but I had a strong sense that she was still with us. I set that photo to the side—separating her from the other two—and looked up again.

  I caught Gaston noting that I had set Bianca’s and Kyle’s photos on my right, and Leslie’s photo on my left, but he didn’t interrupt Albright, allowing him to finish giving us the facts. “Here’s why we think all three disappearances might be linked: They are all of college age and in their freshman year of school. Each student held a two-point-five or better GPA. All three have at least one parent employed within their home state’s legislature. All three had close family ties and were on good terms with both their parents and their classmates. None has a history of mental illness. And as far as we know, none of the missing kids knew one another or has ever made contact. We’ve checked out their blogs and MySpace pages and there’s no mention of anything out of the ordinary or of one another. We’ve done extensive interviews with each kid’s family and their friends, roommates, professors, etc., and no one noticed anything unusual in manner or behavior before these kids disappeared.”

  My radar buzzed while Albright talked, and I made a note on my folder that read, Kids did know one another.

  “We’ve also checked bank accounts, cell phone and credit card records, and there’s been no activity since the date they disappeared.”

  “How about any surveillance video of campus at the time they went missing?” Harrison asked.

  “So far we’ve logged about a hundred hours of footage, sir, with about five hundred more to go from various cameras posted in the area, but those that we hoped we might get something from, so far, show us no suspicious activity whatsoever. Just the normal college traffic milling around the area. On one particular digital grouping we have terrific footage of Bianca exiting her dorm to the outside, but as she walks out of view, she does not appear to have anyone trailing her.”

  “And there’s been no ransom note or correspondence to the families?” an agent right across from me asked.

  “None.”

  “Have any of their parents in the state legislature been working on any controversial legislation?” Gaston asked.

  “Only Senator Newhouse, sir. He’s been attempting to allocate funding for a nuclear power plant on the outskirts of a small town in Ohio, and we do know that there’s been some major protest over that from some of the residents near where the plant will be located.”

  “But Kyle was the second victim, not the first, correct?” I clarified.

  Albright nodded. “Correct.”

  “It could be that Newhouse was the target all along, and the other two were abducted as a smoke screen,” one of the agents next to Harrison suggested.

  I shook my head. My radar said no. Gaston seemed to notice, because he spoke directly to me. “Ms. Cooper, I’d be interested to hear your thoughts on what you’ve heard so far.”

  I gave him a weak smile and cleared my throat. “Of course,” I began, and couldn’t help noticing that Harrison was rolling his eyes. “My first impressions are the following: These two,” I said, holding up Kyle’s and Bianca’s photos, “are no longer alive. I feel very strongly that they have been murdered. However,” I added, holding up Leslie’s photo, “I believe this young lady is still with us. But I couldn’t tell you for how much longer and the energy around her feels very unstable. My sense is that if she is still alive, she doesn’t have long.”

  Again I caught Harrison shaking his head slightly and swiveling his chair, almost as if he was trying to distract me. I ignored him completely and focused on Gaston, who was taking notes and nodding. “I also believe there is more than just a circumstantial link between the kids. I believe they knew one another. I don’t know if they were friends, but I do believe that they all met at one time.”

  “Why do you think that?” Albright asked me, and I could tell that he wasn’t so much doubtful as he was curious.

  “When you suggested that they didn’t know one another, my radar insisted that they did. I don’t know how old the connection between the three is, but it’s there.”

  Off to the side I heard someone make a derisive sound and I knew Harrison was doing his level best to unsettle me. And by this time I’d had more than enough of his attitude, so I turned to face him and said, “And I know that some of you might not feel that’s good enough, but I would like to remind you about a certain crime scene that was only discovered after my radar pinpointed its location.”

  Harrison avoided looking at me, but I could see that his eyes narrowed and at least the swiveling of his chair stopped. After a moment of awkwardness Gaston spoke again. “Are there any other impressions you can share with us, Ms. Cooper? Perhaps where the teens might be located or anything about the person responsible?”

  I took a deep breath and focused my radar on the photos in front of me. “This girl,” I said, pointing to Bianca. “She’s somewhere near water. I don’t think she’s in it, but she’s not far away. I’m not sure right now where Kyle is,” I admitted, “but I can keep working on it. As far as the person responsible . . .” My voice faded as I tried to focus, and my eyes kept going back to Kyle and how big and athletic he was. It would take a big man to overpower him, but somehow that wasn’t exactly my impression of the killer. I suspected he was average in size, and perhaps he’d used some other method to get Kyle away from campus without making a scene—like move in behind him and point a gun into his back or something.

  “I believe this is the work of one suspect, a male. I believe he is intelligent, concise, and very deliberate with his movements, actions, and thoughts. I also believe he is comfortable, or would fit in easily, in a collegiate environment. He might even look like a student.”

  “Any idea as to why he’s specifically targeting these kids?” asked another agent who’d been quiet until now.

  I paused, considering the motive for a while, and the answer I got was quite puzzling. “It’s the weirdest thing,” I said, trying to feel out the energy. “It’s almost like this is a smoke screen for something else. I can’t help thinking there’s some sort of bait and switch going on here. As if the killer wants us to think one way, but the truth is very different. There’s also something very personal about all this. Like a nerve has been struck and this is the reaction. There’s revenge here too, but the real story is much larger than it would appear.”

  I could tell that my answer both confused and slightly frustrated the group, and for that I felt bad. I didn’t know how this jigsaw puzzle fit together either, but I knew I wasn’t off when I told them that there was a lot more to it than the facts at first revealed.

  “I have a question,” Candice said into the silence that followed.

  “Of course,” Gaston said.

  “I’m pretty amazed that the press hasn’t gotten hold of this story yet,” she said. “I mean, how have you managed to avoid having this story plastered all over every national paper?”

  Gaston’s eyes flickered to Harrison. “We owe a bit of that to Agent Harrison for bringing this task force to Washington and away from any one local bureau, where the press would be more suspicious of such a meeting, as well as sheer luck. Both the Coyle and Newhouse disappearances were reported in the local news in their towns when the press picked up the stories from local police blotters, but Bianca’s father contacted me right away—keeping it out of the press. That’s good for us, because the last thing we need right now is to deal with a bunch of reporters before we know exactly who—or what—we’re dealing with. So far, none of the AP wires has connected the dots bet
ween the three teens, which has worked in our favor.”

  “How exactly does that work in our favor?” Candice asked.

  “Because if we are in fact dealing with an antigov ernment serial killer, he’ll be looking for attention, and we believe that if he gets it, the abductions may escalate. That’s why we’re working to keep everyone outside this room in the dark. Even the families have not been told about a possible connection to other missing kids in neighboring states, because the longer we can work this case quietly, the better chance we have to figure out exactly what we’re dealing with without risking an escalation from the unsub.

  “Still,” said Gaston, “we all know it’s only a matter of time before word will leak and some ambitious reporter is going to blow this thing wide open, so I want to reiterate the need to keep the details of this case isolated to members of this group and your own individual SACs. Am I understood?”

  All heads around the table, including mine and Candice’s, nodded.

  “Excellent,” said Gaston as he got to his feet, and started issuing orders.“Agents Albright and McKenzie, we’ll need you to continue to survey the footage at all three campuses with specific focus on the Ohio State campus. I want you to pay close attention to anyone who was perhaps acting suspicious around Kyle Newhouse who might also have been big enough to overpower him. Agents Walters and Stillwell, I’m assigning you the task of going deeper into the three abductees’ past. You’re looking for any possible connection that might link them. Continue to discreetly ask family and friends until you hit on a likely connection.

  “Also, as I understand it, we still need access to two of the kids’ laptops. I know you’ve had remote access to their blogs and MySpace pages, but we need to search through their hard drives and maybe we can locate a specific Web site or online video game they frequented. You’ll need to do a thorough profile of each individual, where they shopped, where they ate, if they belonged to a gym, or had any special memberships. I want travel records of each individual in the past year. Let’s see if perhaps they all visited a specific location for spring break, and maybe that’s our missing link.”