“I don’t kiss and tell, dear,” she answered sarcastically. “I’m not so sure you’d be interested in the details.”
Alexander shot his eyes to Martin, who was readjusting his suit and rubbing his neck. He felt a pang of guilt when he saw the red bruise beginning to form. Martin shrugged, his expression offering him a silent apology.
“Wha…? I mean, how…? I mean…” Alexander slumped onto the couch, defeated. As much as he didn’t want to believe Martin was the one behind Melanie’s disappearance, at least it was something. Now all he had was the knowledge that whoever did this was sly enough to obtain Martin’s security code and thumbprint to gain entry into the house.
“He wanted to tell you years ago, but I wouldn’t let him,” Colleen explained.
“Years? This has been going on for…” He shook his head.
“He’s always been a good friend of the family,” she continued. “After your father passed, I found myself missing him more than I thought I would. In his line of work, I knew the probability of me outliving him was very high, but when I heard he was killed… I don’t know.” She sighed, joining Alexander on the couch, grabbing his hand in hers. “I got through the funeral being the strong woman everyone thought me to be. But when the dust settled and I was surrounded by Thomas’ ghost, I guess I just wanted to be able to share my pain with someone. Leroy and I, well… We mourned your father together. When I finally moved back to the Boston area after Melanie was born, what started out as a friendship based on shared grief blossomed into something neither one of us expected.”
“I’m sorry I never said anything, sir,” Martin offered in his normal, curt tone, his voice a little scratchy. “I assure you my relationship with your mother has never interfered with my ability to carry out my responsibilities and it never will.”
Alexander nodded, still in a daze as he processed this new information and how he’d never put the pieces together before. Shaking his head, he wrapped his arms around his mother.
“I’m happy for you, Ma.” Kissing her platinum hair, he pulled away and stood up, approaching Martin. “For both of you.” He offered his hand to Martin, who shook it. “But if you hurt her,” Alexander said in a low voice, gesturing to where he just had Martin pinned to the ground, gasping for air, “that was just a taste of what you can expect to see from me.”
“Sir,” Martin nodded, then broke his composure briefly and gave Alexander a small smile.
“Mr. Burnham,” Agent Moretti interrupted. “If you two are done sorting this out, I’d like to get back to the investigation since Martin apparently has an alibi.” He looked at Martin. “We do need to speak to you about how someone could have obtained your security code and thumbprint.”
He stepped forward. “I’m more than happy to answer any of your questions.”
“I can also have my tech guy help with that,” Alexander offered. “He may be able to shine some light on the safeguards in place in our computer systems.”
“I would certainly like to speak with him, as well.” He pulled out his notepad again. “What’s his name?”
Alexander narrowed his gaze, cognizant of Moretti’s thinking. “Jamie Simpson, but I wouldn’t waste your time investigating him. Yes, he has the expertise to hack into even the most stringent computer systems, but he has no motive. Plus, he was at the office all night working on a few things for me.”
“That may be so,” Moretti said, “but I’d like to be the judge of whether or not he had anything to do with this. If what you say is true, I’m sure we can quickly cross him off our list. In the meantime, the rest of the CARD team is setting up the command center at an elementary school just down the street. They’re already combing through hundreds of tips received from the amber alert. We have local agents going door to door, asking if anyone noticed anything suspicious last night.”
“Door to door?” Alexander interjected, his voice rising. “That’s your solution to finding my daughter? Asking people if they’ve seen anything suspicious? I thought the FBI was supposed to be experts at this type of thing!” He paced the room, tugging at his dark hair. He knew all these things were important, but he wanted answers. He wanted to know they were close to finding Melanie.
“Mr. Burnham, I assure you, we’re exploring every avenue possible. Based on what we know so far, this was a meticulously planned abduction. To that end, I’ve been in contact with your publicist. We’ve agreed to go ahead with a press conference this afternoon. Both you and your wife will be present. Many times, it’s the public’s assistance that helps solve these cases, but we need to give them a reason to tear themselves away from their smart phones and keep their eyes peeled for your little girl. We need to make the public think of Melanie as their daughter, too, so they feel vested in her safe return.”
“That’s it? That’s your genius plan? Have the public do your job for you?”
“Mr. Burnham—” Moretti began.
“Do you think that will work?” Olivia interrupted, squeezing Alexander’s arm. When he shot his fiery gaze to hers, she gave him a pleading look. Reluctantly, he bit back his temper.
“It might. It might not,” Moretti answered truthfully, causing Alexander’s frustration with him to rise. “But, right now, we need to try everything to find your daughter.”
“Do whatever you want,” Alexander barked, “but while you and your team waste time going door to door and setting up a command center, I’m going to do what you should be doing right now instead of drinking my coffee…and that’s finding my daughter.”
He grabbed Olivia’s hand, pulling her toward the garage. He didn’t want to be in that house anymore, the memories of Melanie ripping him open. Her soul was carved in the wood frames. Her laughter was in the nails that held it together. Her spirit was in the air he breathed.
“Mr. Burnham, I must insist you stay out of the investigation,” Agent Moretti ordered. Alexander spun around to face him, his eyes narrowed. “You’re personally involved and can’t possibly act with a clear head, which could not only endanger your life and the lives of all the law enforcement officers here who are trained to find missing children, but it could put your own daughter’s life at risk. Your best course is to remain out of sight and out of the way. All we need is for you to attend the press conference. Let your wife do all the speaking. She’s a much more…likable person than you are. Hold her hand. Rub her back if she cries. But under no circumstances should you conduct your own investigation.”