The Silenced

*

 

“We don’t know about the second girl yet,” Jackson said. “No prints in the system and we haven’t been able to find a missing-persons report to match up with her. But the information about Cathy Crighton is interesting. She was tentatively identified by a coworker from a police sketch, and then a DNA match was made. She grew up in foster homes in Kentucky, moved to Los Angeles, worked in a few restaurants there, then moved to New York City, and came to Georgetown about five weeks ago. A friend in Oklahoma—someone she’d met in one of her foster homes—first filed a missing-persons report. She has no known family and was just starting to make friends at the restaurant, Big Fish, where she was working. Police interviewed her old boss and they don’t think he was involved. She’d been late for work previously and he’d told her that if she failed to show up for her shift on time again, she was fired. It never occurred to him to call her in missing.”

 

“What was their take on the boss?” Matt asked. He was in Jackson’s office in their Alexandria facility, sitting in one of the handsome oak chairs in front of Jackson’s desk while Jackson sat in his swivel chair behind it. The office also included a sofa grouping with a number of chairs by the fire; it was a pleasant place, conducive to group discussions and brainstorming.

 

Matt’s own office was just down the hall. While the four-story row house wasn’t furnished with antiques, it still seemed to offer more of an at-home feel than their more modern facilities around the country. At first Matt had been surprised that the Krewe of Hunters chose to be outside the Bureau’s main offices. But their tech services here were top-notch, and so, Matt gathered, was their security.

 

They had access to various labs and nonagent employees, computer whizzes and experts in all kinds of fields. The special agents of the Krewe units, overseen by Adam Harrison and managed by Jackson Crow, occupied the entire second floor with offices that allowed for consultations and a large boardroom with screens and computers and everything they needed for major conferences.

 

Jackson passed him a file. “It’s all emailed to you, as well. But I figured you’d want your own take on the man and that you’d want to interview him right away.”

 

Matt raised a brow. “I thought you wanted me on the trail of our missing woman, Lara Mayhew.”

 

“I do.”

 

“But what you’re saying is that we have a bird in the hand?”

 

“Exactly.” Jackson hesitated. “I’m not sure yet what I feel about Lara Mayhew’s disappearance. We have nothing solid to link that to the murders of these young women and we certainly have nothing to link Congressman Walker to any of it. But sometimes our work is all about eliminating possibilities. If we can find Lara Mayhew alive, then we’ll know she was in hiding and that none of this is related.”

 

“We may be on a wild-goose chase,” Matt pointed out.

 

“We’ve been on a few. And on more than one occasion, we’ve caught the goose.”

 

“Meg is convinced that her friend is dead.”

 

“If so, the body may turn up. Until then, let’s proceed this way. Meg is due in here within the hour. Angela went over to the academy with a few agents and they’re moving Meg out of her quarters and into a town house she’s rented. Kat is at Wong’s office, and we’ve arranged to bring the first body to him, as well. You might want to go over there after you’ve met up with Harvey Legend—boss at the Big Fish—and see what Kat and Wong have to say, although I’m pretty sure we’ve got a budding serial on the rise.”

 

“When I get back from all of that, we can head out on Ms. Mayhew’s trail,” Matt said.

 

“Hey, it’s a road trip,” Jackson told him, with a smile that offered little humor. “Bring some music. That’ll pass the time.”

 

“I know one thing,” Matt said.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“I’m doing the driving. I like being at the wheel, in control.”

 

“Sure. Whatever. Cling to that power, Agent Bosworth.”

 

“I like driving.”

 

“I’m happy for you.”

 

*

 

Meg could hardly believe how quickly she could be packed and out of the quarters she’d called home for nearly four months. But that was because she’d had help.

 

She wasn’t against doing the hefting and hauling herself, but she had Angela for organization and four agents for trips to the car with her boxes and gear. When Meg had said she could just hire a moving company, Jackson Crow had shaken his head and told her they could draw on their own manpower.

 

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