"Have a good day, sweetheart. Daddy loves you."
Her head turned slightly, but not enough to meet his eyes. Carla led her by the hand to the car.
Gus watched them pull away, then locked up the house and got in his car. He hadn't planned on going into the office, but Bonnie, his secretary, had called to tell him she had organized a support group at the office. Nothing formal. Just some secretaries and staff who wanted to help. The meeting was in the main conference room at nine. Gus misjudged the commuting time, so he arrived a few minutes late, dressed in coat and tie. He wasn't trying to impress anyone with the power look, but he figured any change in appearance--such as dress--would only feed rumors that he was losing his grip on the emotional slide. He didn't need that.
His secretary met him at the elevator. "Gus, thank God you're here."
She was out of breath, as usual, undoubtedly having run from door to door, gathering people for the meeting. "The Road Runner" was her nickname because she was always in a hurry. Guinness Book of Records didn't know it, but the land-speed record had actually been set by the amazing Bonnie DeVreeze in the hallowed halls of Preston & Coolidge.
"What's wrong?"
She caught her breath, leading him down the hall. "Everyone's waiting."
They stopped outside the conference room. Muffled conversations hummed behind the closed door. "How many are there?"
"Close to a hundred."
"Wow."
She smiled. "Yeah. Wow."
"What should I say to them?"
"Just thank them. They really want to help."
"That's very nice. But I'm not sure what they can do."
"I had the copy center print up flyers and posters. Thousands of them. We can pass them out here and get volunteers to post them in grocery stores, malls, all over."
He was once again grateful that at least one of them was organized. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
He started for the door, then stopped. "About that newscast last night. The abuse allegations--"
She cut him off. "Isn't it enough that all these people showed up to help you? Doesn't that tell you anything?"
For the first time in days he felt good inside. "It tells me a lot. Thank you."
He gave her a hug and headed inside.
The seventh floor of the Federal Building buzzed with the usual level of morning energy. It wasn't the chaotic kind of bustle that filled big-city police stations. A quiet dignity permeated the halls of an FBI field office, a sense of importance and efficiency. Still, there was the occasional outburst, like the jubilant group at the watercooler celebrating last night's drug bust in Port Angeles. Normally, Andie would have gone over to get the details, but today she just closed her office door and tuned it all out.
Earlier that morning Victoria Santos had called her at home. Andie wasn't exactly sure how she'd found out about Gus Wheatley's appearance on the nightly news. Perhaps she and Isaac had spoken. Whoever the source, Victoria wasn't happy. In her eyes, Gus's contacting the media without even telling Andie showed a complete breakdown of trust and communication. It was Andie's job to get it back.
Andie didn't want to be knee jerk. She needed to talk to Gus, but she had to get her facts straight first. One thing was clear about last night's television broadcast, with its emphasis on the old abuse allegations over Beth's recent disappearance: Gus hadn't steered the story in that direction. That left the question: who had?
She feared he would think it was her. Gus had told her about the abuse the other night at the medical examiner's office. The possibility that the FBI had leaked that information to the media must have crossed Gus's mind, especially after the serial killer leak to the newspapers. She wanted to assure him it wasn't the FBI, and she wanted to go even further and say it wasn't law enforcement, period. Problem was, she wasn't sure.
She picked up the phone and dialed Seattle homicide. "Hey," said Detective Kessler, "I was wondering when I'd hear from you."
"You saw last night's newscast?"
"Sure did."
"What did you think?"
"Didn't surprise me."
She paused. "Is that because you had something to do with it?"
"You mean, all that abuse talk?"
"You know what I mean."
"Not me, sweetheart."
"You were pretty fixated on the alleged abuse when we interviewed Mr. Wheatley. Are you saying you've let it go?"
"I never let anything go till I have my killer."
"Does that mean Gus Wheatley is a suspect in your eyes?"
"I wouldn't say that."
"Look, I don't need to tell you that if Gus Wheatley is a suspect, that changes everything about the way we have to deal with him. So I'd like to know: Are you or are you not exploring a possible connection between the abuse and Beth's disappearance?"
"Depends on what you mean by exploring."
"I don't have time to play word games with you."
"No games. No suspects. Let's say it's just a theory at this point."