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A lump forms in my throat and I swallow it down. “There was a sighting of Erin there while I was in Quantico, so I asked to be stationed up there. I thought I’d hang around and see if I could find her myself. I didn’t.”
Erin is my younger sister, younger by a year, and yet just as questionably intelligent as my older sister. Erin was a child prodigy when it came to academia. My parents always said she was too smart for her britches, and about three years ago I started to believe them. She’s been missing for about that long. No foul play detected; she just wandered off and gave us the finger more or less—or at least the technological equivalent, a dear John letter to the family via text stating she needed some space. She wished us all a nice life.
Rob grunts as he considers it, “She’s not in Nevada.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Someone spotted her at a liquor store out near Ironwood Springs about three months ago.”
“What?” I hiss so loud, Buddy sits up straight. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m telling you now. Besides, I wanted to be sure it was her. And after some digital analysis of the security footage, I’m pretty sure it was.”
My heart thumps wildly. “Did you tell my mother?”
“I’m saving that for you.”
My phone pings before I can pick up a menu, but with that news about Erin, I’m too amped up to eat anyway.
I glance at the screen and shake my head.
“It looks as if we won’t need you to call the feds regarding those bodies you’re racking up,” I tell him. “My shiny new SAC just let me know they found a head up in Cheyenne—the rest of the body was located in a creek somewhere outside of Denver. I just got my own invite to the party.”
4
Special Agent Fallon Baxter
I’ll admit, the revelation about Erin twisted my guts with equal parts hope and dread that I can’t quite swallow down.
But I do my best to push that out of my mind for now as I follow Rob down to Denver and straight to the FBI Field Office.
As much as I want to place all of my focus on my missing sister, as soon as I got the message to hightail it to headquarters, Rob offered to not only come along, but lead the way. I didn’t object. My head is spinning and I can get turned around on the unfamiliar roads just as good as anybody.
The last thing I want is to leave a bad impression on my new SAC, the Special Agent in Charge.
Erin might still be haunting my mind, but duty calls, and right now that duty is slicing like a scalpel through any personal turmoil I might be feeling.
The news about the body, or rather parts of it, scattered between Cheyenne and Denver, jars me back to reality. This is what I’m here for, and yet in the back of my mind, there’s a sense of dread every time I’m called to look at a body. I’m half-afraid that’s how I’ll finally be reunited with Erin, in a cold coroner’s office—worse yet, as a silent yet violent picture that my SAC shows off while rattling on about the latest Jane Doe.
The drive to headquarters is a blur, but I do my best to recalibrate and refocus on the Rocky Mountains looming straight ahead, those silent watchers of so much chaos.
We pull in, park, and jog up to the building, a fortress of glass and metal.
Rob, Buddy, and I make our way through the security checkpoints that are set to a heightened alert before dashing down a series of sterile, fluorescent-lit corridors that lead to the situation room. A dark-haired man and a redhead are seated at an elongated table, while a balding man with a paunch belly stands at the head of the room rifling through a stack of files.
He looks up and nods expectantly my way.
“Special Agent Fallon Baxter,” I say. “And this is Robby—Sheriff Rob Reed.”
The balding man frowns. “Special Agent in Charge Grant Hale,” he says, coming over and shaking my hand. “Nice to finally meet you. I’ve got a special-issued laptop and phone waiting for you downstairs. Be sure to pick them up before you leave the building.” He sizes Rob up for a moment. “You’re the sheriff from?—”
“Elmwood County,” Rob says. “I was with Fallon when she got your message. I didn’t mind showing her the way.”
“Nice,” Grant says with that frown still stationed on his face. “You’re welcome to stay.”
“He should,” I say. “He’s got a few cold cases that might be related.”
“I’m aware,” Grant says, forcing a smile in Rob’s direction, but there’s nothing nice about it. “Fallon, meet Special Agent Nikki Knight and Special Agent Jackson Stone.”
