Doom with a View (31 page)

“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 recently 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 definitely 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?”

Dutch cleared his throat before speaking. “There have been relatively few leads coming into our office, sir. We’ve been combing through the records of that committee meeting in Chicago two years ago when the disgruntled man in the audience disrupted the event. But we have no name to place with the man, and we’ve got one of the task force members working to locate the hotel security detail that had him removed to perhaps offer up any further information.

“Also, before he disappeared, Michael Derby worked with an FBI sketch artist to give us a pretty good picture, and Agent Meyers has supplied us with a likely profile of the abductor, which was offered prior to our obtaining the sketch, and the drawing clearly matches the profiler’s description.”

“I’d like to hear Meyers’s profile of the unsub,” Gaston said.

“Meyers has him pegged as a white male, between forty-five and sixty. He likely lives alone and has a history of broken relationships—maybe divorced and estranged from his own kids. Meyers believes the unsub has been limited in his education, probably denied a chance to go to college either due to financial constraints or lack of academic accomplishment.

“Meyers also believes the unsub has had menial jobs in either the auto industry or steel manufacturing and that he’s most likely currently unemployed and might have fallen victim to the recent economic downturn in manufacturing of the past couple of years. The reason he’s targeting students is because they represent everything he was denied: the promise of a better life through education and the youthful energy to accomplish it. Meyers believes the reason he’s going after these specific teens is because he attributes his most recent downward spiral to the greed and corruption of government. Meyers notes that because the first victim lived in Michigan, that the unsub also lives there. He believes his home is somewhere in the Detroit metro area, with one exception, and that is that he could just as easily be living in Flint.”

Gaston listened with focused attention, but when Dutch was finished speaking, he caught my eye. “Something you want to say, Ms. Cooper?”

I realized that subconsciously I was shaking my head. “I’m sorry, sir,” I said, feeling awkward about what my radar was implying. “But my intuition disagrees with that profile.”

Gaston’s brows rose. “Which part does your radar disagree with?” he asked me.

“All of it, sir.”

Gaston was silent for a long moment as he considered me. Finally he said, “Can you offer me an alternate description of the killer, then?”

My eyes flashed automatically to Dutch, who gave me a small encouraging nod. “Go for it,” he whispered.

“I think the first thing that’s way off is the age,” I said. “He got the sex right, but this killer feels much younger. I’d put him no older than thirty. He’s also incredibly smart—almost too smart. There’s something about how he thinks, like he’s playing some kind of a chess game and we’re just a bunch of pawns. He knows that we’re likely to arrive at a set of conclusions and they are exactly the conclusions he wants us to draw. And the connection to the kids—it’s more passionate. This is a vendetta against them personally. It’s not random. He chose to target each and every one.”