And then disappeared. Again.
Andie phoned Gus with the news that same night. He had scores of questions, none of which she was prepared to answer. She left him frustrated but grateful for the call.
She spent most of Tuesday in the office just getting organized. Isaac had told her to make the Wheatley kidnapping--they were calling it a kidnapping--her top priority. Fortunately, most of her thirty-three other cases were relatively dormant, but she knew that could change at any moment. She got commitments from other agents to cover the ones most likely to blow, which her supervisor approved.
Her supervisor was Kent Lundquist, who had taken over as the violent crimes squad supervisor upon Isaac's promotion to the number two position in the office, assistant special agent in charge. Lundquist reported to Isaac, and he rather frequently reminded Andie that she didn't. It wasn't unusual for an agent to appeal a supervisor's decision to the ASAC, but Andie and Isaac's unusually close relationship made Lundquist quite defensive whenever she went over his head. He seemed fearful that Isaac had more confidence in her than him. On technical or procedural matters that' required an experienced eye, that wasn't the case. For decisions that drew on interpersonal skills and raw intelligence, his fears were justified.
There was no kidnapping squad as such in the office. Like Andie, plenty of other agents in the violent crimes squad had relevant experience. Andie met with three other agents assigned to the Wheatley case, briefing them on each of the known homicides, the Wheatley family, the peculiarities behind Beth and her disappearance. By the end of the day they had carved out specific areas of responsibility. Everyone had plenty to do. Andie's first task, however, was a direct order from Lundquist himself. He had been in his office reading the afternoon edition of the Seattle Times. He had seen the huge ad with Beth's picture and the offer of a reward.
"What the hell is this?" he asked.
Andie sat across the desk from him, staring at the page. "This is the first I've seen of it."
"Damn it, Henning. You can't let the family haul off and do things like this without coordinating through you. Now get control of your case. Or you're going to lose it before you get started."
"I'll meet with Gus Wheatley tonight."
"And another thing," he said, grousing. "Make damn sure Gus Wheatley plans to make good on two hundred fifty thousand dollars. It's his private reward, but I know how these things play out in the press. If he reneges after we make the arrest, it'll reflect badly on the FBI."
"I understand your concerns."
"You better. Because I'll hold you responsible."
"I wouldn't have it any other way." She answered in a tone that made it impossible to tell if she was gung-ho or a smartass.
He glared for a moment, then returned to his newspaper, dismissing her. Andie went straight to her car, speaking to no one on the way out.
Andie stopped by the Wheatley residence on her way home from work at the height of dinner hour. Gus greeted her at the door and took her to the dining room, where Morgan was slouched in her chair and poking her peas.
"Hi, Morgan," said Andie.
"Hi," she said weakly.
"Sony to interrupt your dinner."
Morgan pushed her plate away. "It's okay. We're done." "Done?" said Gus. "You've hardly eaten."
"I'm not hungry."
"You have to eat, sweetheart?' "Why?"
"Because if you don't eat, you'll get sick."
"Is Mommy sick?"
Even she had noticed the eating disorder. Just one more indicator of just how oblivious Gus had been.
"We're not sure how Mommy feels. But Agent Henning is going to help us find out."
"That's what you said yesterday."
Andie said, "We're working very hard. It just takes time."
"How long?" Her voice had lost its defiant edge. It had even cracked.
Gus scooted onto her chair beside her, put his arm around her, and stroked her head. "We're going to keep looking as long as it takes."
They both looked at Andie, as if seeking a commitment. "That's right," she told them. "As long as it takes."
Some of the anxiety faded from Morgan's expression. The little grown-up was more like a kid again, though her heart was clearly aching. "Dad, can I feed my goldfish now?"
"Sure."
She gave Andie a little smile as she rose from the table, then scampered down the hall.
"Don't feed them too much," he called out, but she didn't answer. He glanced at Andie and said, "If those fish get any bigger, I'll have the friends of Willy outside my door demanding I set them free."
Andie smiled. Gus checked his empty wineglass and said, "Like some cabernet?"
"Can't. I'm on duty. I'm actually not much of a weeknight drinker anyway."
"Neither am I. Normally."