“Thanks. You are too, Skip.”
“Ya’know, I’ve never said this to any of you Feds before, but then, none of the others ever gave me a chance…” He paused and once again combed his fingers through the brush on his lip for a second. “Do me a favor, Constance: don’t let ‘em send anyone else to Hulis on this case.”
She sighed. “I’m not sure I can stop them.”
“Maybe you can. I guess it all depends on what you put in that report of yours.”
“Something tells me it won’t make any difference.”
“You’re probably right,” he agreed. “But sending an endless parade of Feds up here isn’t going to bring Merrie any peace. That’s what she really needs. Once that happens, maybe she can move on… Hell, maybe Rebecca and Hulis can too.”
“Maybe so…” Constance smiled, then gave him a nod. “I’ll promise you this much, Skip: I’ll come back. You can count on it. If the bureau wants to send someone anyway, I’ll make sure it’s me.”
“You know I’ll hold you to that.”
“Yes, I do. Don’t worry. I think I have some pull that the other agents don’t.”
“Do tell…”
“I would if I could.”
“Well, I tell myself this every year,” he grunted. “Guess I’ll tell you too… Let’s hope next Christmas you’re just here to visit and have a cup of egg nog.”
“I’d like that.”
“I’m sure Merrie would too.”
CHAPTER 32
12:24 P.M. – December 26, 2010
College Gas ‘n Go
BR 61 South – Canton, Missouri
Constance tore a fresh paper towel from the dispenser and dried her hands. This was the second gas station she had visited in the past ten minutes. At the first stop, she had walked into the unisex facilities and then immediately turned and walked back out. If she was going to die prematurely, she had already decided that it wasn’t going to be courtesy of a toilet seat that hadn’t been cleaned since before she was born.
Her heels clicked sharply on the tile as she stepped over to the door, then used the damp paper towel to grasp the handle and pull it open. Hooking her foot in front of the door she wadded up the towel and tossed it into the trashcan, actually landing it dead center in the receptacle-unlike some of the other women who had visited recently. Using her elbow she shoved the door the rest of the way open and exited. It’s not that she was germaphobic by any stretch, but she was sure that even this restroom needed a date with some bleach and elbow grease.
She strolled slowly past the drink coolers, inspecting the selections, and then paused. She still had a little over three hours left before she would roll into Saint Louis. Although she’d slept well last night, she still didn’t feel like she was caught up, so she was definitely going to need caffeine to get her through the upcoming stretch of highway. After a brief moment of indecision, she settled on a bottle of green tea that was boasting “all natural” on the label. She didn’t fully buy into the advertising by any stretch, but she figured her body would appreciate green tea more than a soda, or even coffee.
After paying for the drink, she headed back out to the first row of pumps. Since she had left her coat on the passenger seat of her car, she hurried-heels again tapping out a sharp cadence, this time against the grimy, salt-frosted pavement. She had already topped off her tank and paid with her card before seeking out the restroom, so she quickly unlocked the door and climbed into the driver’s seat, then settled the bottle of tea into the console cup holder. As she reached over her shoulder for the safety belt, she heard a warbling chime issue from her side.
Abandoning the belt, she reached into her jacket pocket and retrieved her cell. The screen displayed, UNKNOWN, and for the number, a row of ten zeros, separated by strategically placed dashes. She frowned and consciously creased her brow, wondering at the odd data and whether to even bother answering. After a moment, the device ceased to jiggle, and the vibrato tone stopped. Problem solved.
Constance moved to slide it back into her pocket when it suddenly began to tickle her palm and sing the same generic tune to her again. She pulled it back up and found the same message on the screen. Giving in, she thumbed the answer button and tucked the cell up beneath her hair and against her ear while she used her other hand to fish her sunglasses from the visor.
“Hello?”
An unfamiliar woman’s emotionless and curt voice asked, “SA Mandalay?”
Constance frowned again. “Yes, this is SA Mandalay. Who is this?”
“Please hold,” the woman replied.
A dull silence instantly filled the earpiece. Constance let out a displeased harrumph but continued to wait. Several seconds later, there was a click and a new voice came on the line.
“SA Mandalay…” a calm, almost soothing male voice said. “I trust you are doing well today?”
Now she wasn’t just displeased, she was confused and starting to edge toward somewhat angry.
“Who is this?” Constance demanded, not bothering to hide the irritation in her voice.
There was a quiet chuckle at the other end. “Forgive me, I suppose I should have introduced myself first. I’m Assistant Director Jack Graham.”
Constance fell mute, the earlier aggravation now turning into a bewildering sort of alarm. She knew the name wasn’t likely to be a coincidence, not after everything she’d just been through.
After what seemed to be a forever period of silence she managed, “Good afternoon, sir…”
“Good afternoon, SA Mandalay,” he replied. He was, in a sense, restarting the conversation from square one.
“What can I do for you, sir?” she asked.
“I’m simply checking in with you,” he told her. “I know that you were just assigned to a rather difficult case at my direction, and I wanted to make sure you came through it okay.”
“So far,” she replied, still stunned. “Thank you for the concern, sir.”
“That’s good to hear,” he replied. “You should take some leave when you get home. A few days for yourself to rest up. Perhaps spend a belated holiday with your significant other, Detective Storm.”
The comment was as subtle as a hammer, but she willed herself not to flinch, verbally at least. Instead, she replied, “I still need to file my report, sir.”
“The report can wait, SA Mandalay.”
“But-”
“Trust me,” he said, cutting her off, “your report can wait. I insist you take a few days for yourself. I’ll be calling your supervisor with the authorization. After what you’ve seen, you deserve it.”
Obviously she was being left no other choice. She just wasn’t entirely sure why. Therefore, she said the only thing she could: “Thank you…”
“You’re very welcome,” he replied. “Besides, I’m sure you could use a little time to think about what you plan to include in your report.”
“Sir?”
“You came into possession of somewhat sensitive information during this case…” he said, allowing a verbal sword to dangle above her head.
“Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! I never should have dragged Ben into this” she thought to herself. “God, what if they come down on him for this too…”
Apparently her pause was long enough to evoke another quiet chuckle from AD Graham. “Relax. Who do you think sent you that file and text message, SA Mandalay?”
She realized that she had been holding her breath and now allowed herself to exhale slowly then take in a fresh lungful of air.
“May I ask why, sir?”
“To help you understand,” he replied.
“I’m still not certain that I do.”
“Hence your need for some time to think.”
Constance waited a heartbeat then asked, “What are you wanting me to put in my report, sir?”
“What do you think you should put into the report?” he asked.
“No disrepect intended, sir, but it seems to me the bureau has been hiding something for thirty-five years.”
“What do you think that might be, SA Mandalay?”
“I’m not entirely sure, sir. However, I can’t help but wonder if everyone in that town is involved.”