She motioned for me to give her the phone.
I shook my head.
She glared at me and made an insistent hand motion.
I shook my head more vigorously.
She reached out and yanked the phone out of my hand. “Hey, Dutch, it’s Candice,” she said casually.
I groaned. She was going to say something to make things worse. He’d break up with me. I’d die a spinster.
“Uh-huh,” she was saying. “Uh-huh . . . I see. Okay, so let me ask you something: Have you had a chance to interview Matthew Derby yet?” She paused, listening, and then she asked, “What time does he get in?” Another pause. “Okay. We’ll meet you at his house at ten. Abby’s been getting tons of hits on her radar and she needs to be in the same room when you guys interview the senator.”
My eyebrows shot up. What the heck was she talking about? But Candice seemed to be ignoring me. From the buzzing sound coming from the earpiece it sounded like Dutch wasn’t thrilled with the idea of our showing up at the interview either. But Candice was undeterred. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that, Dutch. What? Hello? I think I’m losing you. We must be in a bad area. I’ll see you at ten!” And she clicked off the line, then switched my phone off completely.
“If he breaks up with me, I’m totally blaming you,” I growled.
“Oh please,” she said, waving her hand at me. “Like he could ever leave you!”
I pouted at her for emphasis but switched topics. “What was all that about my radar getting tons of hits?”
“A smoke screen,” she said, then leaned over and said to the cabbie, “Can you take us back to our hotel? Oh, and can you turn up the radio? I love this song.”
He nodded and the volume to the music became louder.
When we had sufficient noise to cover our conversation, Candice explained, “We need to get the notebook back into Michael’s room,” she said. “After we put it back, we can tell Dutch to either get the senator’s permission to search Michael’s room or get a warrant and obtain it legally.”
“But the notebook doesn’t make much sense,” I said. “I mean, the Cock Tail was a bust. No one remembers seeing Bianca.”
“I think there’s more to this story than we realize,” Candice said. “A lot more. You just go sit with Derby while they interview him and see if your radar picks up anything. We’ll put these pieces together soon.”
I gave her a doubtful look but didn’t object. The cabbie dropped us off and he was told by Candice to pick us up again around nine forty-five. He looked hungrily at the cash that Candice shoved into his hand and nodded vigorously before heading off again.
We had about an hour to kill and in that time I watched TV while Candice jotted every word of the conversation in the lavender notebook down on a separate piece of paper. She kept standing up and pacing with her finger tapping her lip in deep concentration, so I asked her, “Want to tell me what you’re thinking?”
She shook her head. “It’s a weak theory,” she said. “I need more intel before I talk about it.”
I probably should have pressed her on it, because my radar is pretty good at indicating whether someone is on the right track or not, but I was really exhausted from all the travel and adrenaline and emotion of the last couple of days, so instead of pressing her to reveal her theory, I let the topic drop and settled myself more comfortably on the bed. Within moments, I was asleep.
Chapter Thirteen
It felt like my eyelids had just closed when Candice tapped me on the shin. “Hey, Sundance,” she said.
I jerked awake and sat up. “What?”
“Time to go,” she said. “And grab your duffel. We won’t be coming back here.”
I did as she said without argument and we hurried outside to the waiting cab. Candice gave him Derby’s address and we zipped off.
We arrived at the Derbys’ about ten minutes after ten—traffic was a little thicker than expected—and walked to the door. Candice rang the bell and swiveled to me. “Let me do all the talking,” she whispered.
“Don’t I always?”
The door was opened by one of the agents who’d laughed at me back in the conference room. “They’re expecting you,” he said without preamble. “Everyone’s in the senator’s study.”
We shuffled along behind him and into the home office. Senator Derby was sitting straight and dignified behind his large wooden desk. I noticed the resemblance between him and his son immediately. They both had the same good looks and sand-colored hair, but there was a hard edge to Senator Derby that I thought might have evolved over years in a political arena. Nothing much escaped his notice, his eyes moved about the room with a keen intelligence, and I thought he might be something of an expert in body language, able to read people almost as well as I did.
It unnerved me a little when his eyes settled on me and I knew he summed me up in about three seconds. I also knew he correctly assessed that I was someone to be cautious around.
The other people in the room included Dutch, two of the other agents I’d seen around the conference table at the local bureau, and one exceptionally livid Harrison. His face was nearly purple with anger, and I immediately dropped my eyes to the carpet and tried not to tremble in fear.
Apparently, he’d been aware that we were showing up, which surprised me, given how furious he looked. “Sorry for the interruption,” Candice said with a casual command I had to greatly admire. “Please continue with your interview.” She then shoved me toward an open chair near the senator’s desk and I hurried across the room to take it.
Once seated, I was shocked to see Candice motion to Dutch, and the two promptly left the room. I didn’t have a chance to ponder over what they could be up to, because Harrison continued the interview he’d been conducting with Michael’s father. “So the last time you heard from Michael was Tuesday morning around seven a.m.?”
“Yes,” said the senator.
“And in the course of that conversation, did he appear distressed or concerned?”
“No.”
“What did you two talk about?”
The senator eyed Harrison as if he were asking too many personal questions, and it amazed me how, after hearing that his son had gone missing and that three other teens had disappeared as well, he would feel the presence of the FBI as an intrusion. “We discussed the precautions I told you about earlier. How Michael was to come home directly after class and make sure to set the alarm on the house.”
“And why did you dismiss the security detail we tried to assign to your son?” Harrison asked bluntly.
The senator attempted a smile that reached nowhere near his eyes. “I had to consider how it might appear to the local press to have the FBI surrounding my home. My family has been subject to such idle cruelty by the media that I felt it important for Michael not to be fodder for public conjecture and speculation. After hearing that the last abduction was several months ago, I assessed the risk and decided there wasn’t much of it. Michael has certainly been unaware of any impending threat all these months and nothing has happened to him in that time, so I had reason to believe nothing would.”
“But something did happen to him, didn’t it, sir?” Harrison said, and for once I saw the cool delivery of his questions crack a bit. He was disgusted with Derby for not allowing his team to protect his son.
“Again, I had to go with the information I had on hand at the time,” the senator replied. His lack of concern for his son disgusted me too.
“I would appreciate it if you could give me a list of Michael’s friends and acquaintances,” Harrison said, changing the topic.
“He didn’t have many,” the senator told him. “Michael kept to himself most of the time. He preferred being alone in his room and working on his studies than anything else.”
“We’ve already interviewed his roommate,” Harrison said. “He pretty much said the same thing.” Harrison paused as he looked over his notes, then asked, “Can you think of anything that Michael was recent
ly upset about or a reason why he might choose to disappear on his own?”
“No.”
“Were there any favorite vacation spots that the two of you liked to travel to?”
“He went with me to Hawaii once right after his mother died,” said the senator. “But I doubt he remembers much of that trip. He was quite traumatized during that time and he spent much of the trip in the hotel room watching TV.”
Harrison’s brow furrowed. “That’s it?” he asked. “That’s the only vacation you’ve taken with your son?”
The senator sighed. He clearly didn’t like to have his parenting skills questioned. “Michael doesn’t like to travel. As I said, he prefers his solitude.”
Just then Dutch and Candice came back into the room, and one look from Candice assured me that the notebook had been placed back in its original location in Michael’s room.
Harrison looked up as Dutch and Candice entered. I could tell he was wondering the same thing I was about what they’d been talking about. Dutch held up his hand and said, “Pardon me, Senator, but I would like your permission to search Michael’s room.”
“Why?” the senator asked, and everyone seemed to notice how the guard he’d had up during the interview seemed to intensify.
Dutch smiled easily as if it were no big deal. “I’m just looking for a clue to his whereabouts, sir. That’s all.”
The senator considered that for a long minute before he said, “I’ll want my attorney present before you look through anything in this house, Agent Rivers.”
“Of course,” Dutch agreed with another easy smile.
The room was quiet for a moment and Harrison looked like he was just about to ask another question when Candice said, “Senator Derby, I was wondering if there might be someone else whom Michael felt he could trust? Another adult that you were close to whom Michael might have confided in?”
Harrison didn’t look happy that Candice had interjected a question, but he let the senator reply. “No,” Derby said.
Candice nodded and her look was thoughtful. “So there’s no friend of the family or female acquaintance that you can think of that he might consider a mother figure?”
Derby’s color flushed ever so slightly. “No.”
Again, Candice nodded. “You don’t have a girlfriend who stays here on occasion or maybe comes by and watches out for him?”
“I’m far too busy for a personal relationship,” Derby snapped, and it was clear that Candice had struck a chord.
“I see,” she said. And then she went one step further. “Might I ask what size dress your late wife wore, sir?”
I gasped, Harrison looked astounded, and Derby flushed scarlet. “Excuse me?” he snapped.
Candice pretended not to notice the shock reverberating around the room. “Your late wife, sir—was she a petite woman? I noticed from the pictures of her on that side table that she looks to be a slight woman, not much taller than five-one or five-two, I’d guess.”
Derby appeared too stunned to speak and Candice took that as another opportunity to ask him something else. “I wonder, Senator, do you ever wear heels?”
Derby’s eyes widened and flashed to the doorway and the hallway beyond, where Candice and Dutch had recently been out of view. He then swiveled them back to Candice and it felt like some sort of unspoken understanding seemed to pass between them. When Derby spoke next, his voice was lethal. “I’m done answering questions, Agent Harrison. You and your team will remove yourselves from my house immediately.”
“Of course, sir,” Harrison said, looking nearly as angry as Derby. I rose from my chair and hurried to Candice’s side. Dutch’s lips were pulled tight and he avoided my eyes as he ushered us quickly out of the room and through the house to the front door. Once we were outside and standing next to one of the two black sedans parked in the driveway, Harrison rounded on Candice. “What the hell was that, Fusco?”
Candice’s eyes narrowed and she coolly replied, “It’s called detective work, Agent Harrison. Maybe you should try it sometime.”
Harrison’s face exploded in color and a vein popped out along his temple. I imagined his blood pressure had just risen to dangerous levels. “Who the hell do you think you are?” he roared.
Candice’s eyes widened uncharacteristically and the cool exterior she was so famous for began to crack. “I am the person who will get us to the bottom of this case much faster than you, pal! Do you think for one second that asshole in there even cares if we find his son? Do you think he wants to cooperate with us? I mean, come on, Harrison! How benighted are you?! The man asked to have his lawyer present for a simple search of his son’s room! He doesn’t want us anywhere near his house! And do you know why? Huh? Do you?” When Harrison didn’t answer, Candice yelled, “Well, I do, you pompous, arrogant ass! I know why and it’s a doozy, let me tell you!”
“You’re going to jail, Fusco,” Harrison said, struggling with his good hand to reach into his back pocket for a pair of handcuffs. “I’m charging you with obstruction and lying to a federal officer, and trust me on this, I’ll make it stick!”
“Sir,” Dutch said quietly.
But Harrison wasn’t listening. Instead, after giving up the struggle to get at his own pair of handcuffs, he pointed at one of the other agents and ordered, “Cuff her!”
Dutch stepped protectively in front of Candice. “Sir, if I could just have a moment to ex—”
“Shut up, Agent Rivers! And if you don’t step out of the way, I will throw your ass in jail too!”
And just when I thought Candice had really done it this time, another black sedan pulled up and parked behind the others. To my immense relief Agent Gaston got out and approached us. “Good evening,” he said cordially while his eyes took in every bit of the tension swirling around our group. “I trust that the interview with Senator Derby is over?”
Harrison visibly worked to collect himself. “It is, sir,” he said in a steely tone.
Gaston eyed the house. I sneaked a look too and could see Derby clearly lit in the window of his study, talking on his phone and watching our every move. Gaston then swiveled his eyes back to the rest of us, noting Harrison’s red-hot complexion, the handcuffs in one of the other agents’ hands, and Candice’s defensive posture.
“Ms. Fusco,” Gaston said cordially, and she smiled at him pleasantly. “Would you mind riding in my car?”
“I’d be delighted, sir,” she said.
“Can I come?” I squeaked.
“Of course,” said Agent Gaston. “And Agent Rivers, please join us too.”
I glanced at Harrison and thought he might spontaneously combust on the spot. I edged away from him, then darted to Gaston’s big black sedan, where I promptly jumped into the back and squished myself into the far corner, hearing Gaston tell Harrison, “I’ll see you back at the bureau offices and you can debrief me there, Agent Harrison. Please also be prepared to explain to me why you’ve seen fit to ignore your doctor’s orders and come back to work so soon after the crash.”
Candice got in after me, and Gaston sat next to us in the back. That put Dutch in the front seat and the sedan’s driver waited until we were all buckled in before he backed out of the driveway. The interior of the car was silent as we drove; everyone was waiting for Gaston to speak, and for a long time he didn’t. Finally he did say something, but it was only about the weather. When Dutch swiveled in his seat and opened his mouth to say something, Gaston held up a finger and spoke first. “I trust, Agent Rivers, that you will also give me a full debriefing once we are back at the bureau?”
Dutch closed his mouth for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. “Of course, sir.”
Gaston smiled pleasantly at him, then turned to Candice. “And I’ll be interested in anything you have to contribute too, Ms. Fusco.”
Candice bowed her head politely. “It would be my pleasure, sir.”
When Gaston’s eyes fell on me, I said, “Yes, sir. If my radar has anything to offer, I’ll d
efinitely chime in.”
“Excellent,” Gaston said, effectively ending the discussion.
The rest of the ride was spent in silence and I thought that Gaston might be something of a political genius. No doubt, Harrison was seething in the car behind us, and very likely imagining all that Dutch and Candice were telling Gaston. But if called to the carpet on it by one of Harrison’s upper connections, Gaston could honestly say that he’d had no such inappropriate discussions and that conversation within our car had been limited to the weather. He could also say that he felt it only appropriate to hear any disputes between his appointed team in an open forum. The end result was likely to make Gaston look like a smart and effective leader, and Harrison look like a discontented boob.
“You seem happy this evening,” Gaston remarked, and I realized he’d seen me smirking in the corner.
“Just delighted to see you, sir,” I said, beaming him the full grille.
“Likewise, Ms. Cooper,” he replied with a wink and a smile.
We arrived at the bureau ahead of the other cars and Gaston hurried us along, as I’m sure he wanted to control the debriefing and didn’t want tempers to flare anywhere but in the conference room. A little after arriving, Dutch, Candice, myself, and Gaston were all seated in the conference room when we heard the other agents come in. Gaston called to Harrison and as he entered the doorway full of agitation, Gaston said, “Won’t you please come in and join us, Agent Harrison?”
“Sir—,” he began.
“And if you wouldn’t mind shutting the door as well? I’d like it to be just the five of us for the time being.”
Harrison seemed to catch himself and his eyes became wary. I could almost read his thoughts as he stood there hesitating in the doorway. He had no idea what we’d said to Gaston, and he was prepared to offer up quite a defense, but at the moment he couldn’t really object to sitting down and talking. So he turned awkwardly and shut the door, then chose the chair farthest away from the rest of us and waited to be addressed.
Gaston smiled and spoke with a soft voice. “Agent Rivers,” he began, “I would like to hear from you first. What can you tell me about your progress with finding Leslie Coyle and Michael Derby?”