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Sloane smiled fondly. “Gary Lake and Lucy Mullen. We went through Quantico together.”
Tom’s glance flickered to the hand he’d just clasped. “Sorry about what happened. How’re you doing?”
“Better every day. Busier, too.” As always, Sloane steered the conversation away from her injury. She hated pity—almost as much as she hated talking about her exit from the Bureau. “I assume Derek filled you in on my role in this case and my relationship to the victim?”
“Yup.”
Sloane relaxed. Clearly, Special Agent McGraw was an easygoing guy. She could use one of those right now, so there’d be less weirdness in divvying up responsibilities.
Just the same, she took the bull by the horns right up front.
“I appreciate your prioritizing this case on such short notice,” she told Tom. “I promise to dovetail my role with yours and Derek’s. I’ll work with you, following your lead. I was hired to join the team, not run it.”
Tom gave her a crooked grin. “I hear you. One favor—could you teach that to my wife?”
“Sorry.” Sloane grinned back. “Those rules apply only in business. Personal relationships fall under a separate jurisdiction.”
An exaggerated sigh. “I was afraid you’d say that.” All humor vanished, and Tom’s expression turned sober. “I appreciate your diplomacy, but don’t worry about stepping on my toes. If the new leads you turned up can help us figure out what happened to your friend, and who took her, I’m all for pursuing them in whatever way gets the best and fastest results.”
“On that note, here’s today’s agenda,” Derek inserted. “As we know, the college has an official police department, not just campus security. That makes it easier, because we’re dealing with pros—okay, maybe semipros given that this is Pomona, New Jersey. I called the chief of police yesterday and arranged a ten o’clock meeting for this morning. He agreed to assemble everything he could by that time, including any parking tickets, incident reports, or daily permits issued last April fourteenth. Stockton’s also got a pretty sophisticated closed-circuit television system. There are a bunch of cameras placed around Lake Fred, leveraging their manpower in some of the denser, wooded areas.”
“Did the police save the CCTV footage from a year ago?” Sloane asked.
“That’s one of the things we’ll be finding out. I think we should all attend this meeting so we know precisely what we’re dealing with. After that, we can split up and do our respective things.”
“Yeah, ours is going to be a lot of schmoozing with the powers that be,” Tom noted. “The president of the college isn’t going to like our marching in and causing negative publicity for the school.”
“True. On the other hand, he wouldn’t want to be uncooperative when it comes to solving a potentially violent crime.” Derek’s tone said he was ready for the administration’s reticence, and would do what was necessary to eradicate it. “We’ll make sure that he and the campus police get lots of positive press for their efforts. It’ll be fine.”
He turned to Sloane. “During this morning’s meeting, we’ll find out which apartments, dorms, and lecture halls have a view of the section of Lake Fred where Penelope disappeared. Then we’ll arrange to get printouts of the rosters you mentioned the other day—the tenants who lived in those apartments, the kids who lived in those dorms, and the students and staff who had classes in those lecture halls. You can get started interviewing whoever’s still here a year later. We’ll start searching for the ones who’ve gone elsewhere.”
“Great.” Sloane was pleasantly surprised by how much thought Derek had given this. “I’m also going to take a stroll around the lake right after our meeting. That’s the time Penny disappeared. I’ll talk to the students, the Frisbee players, the joggers—whoever usually hangs out around Lake Fred late morning, early afternoon. Maybe some of the regulars were also regulars last year. If so, I might be able to dig up a clue.”
“Good idea.” Derek nodded. “So let’s head over to the main building and hear what the campus police have to contribute to this investigation.”
As they trudged off, Sloane automatically flipped her cell phone back on to check her messages.
Three missed calls. All restricted. She doubted they were from clients. Clients left messages.
Frowning, Sloane made a mental note for later today—to pull those strings she’d been considering.
She was about to turn off the phone, when it rang. She glanced at the display, knowing full well what it would say: restricted caller. Big surprise.
“Do you need to get that?” Derek asked, watching her expression as the phone continued to ring.
“Nope. Not necessary.” Sloane turned off the cell, flipped it closed, and stuck it in her purse. “I know what it’s about. I’ll deal with it later.”
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
DATE: 1 April
TIME: 1230 hours
I was elated with the breakthrough Hera had made with Athena. I served her lunch, inviting her to sit on her throne while she ate. Then I presented her with her surprises—a big bowl of fresh fruit, and a copy of today’s newspaper. The latter was a first. It was a sign of my trust, the greatest reward I could give her.
She’d earned it.
