“Great,” he responded, punching a few buttons on his tablet.
Olivia marveled at how technology had evolved over the years. She had expected him to show up with pencils and an art pad. Instead, he was armed with a large tablet and stylus pen. With the click of a button, his rough sketch was distributed to every law enforcement agency in the state, as well as the rest of the country. It, along with the car description and plate number Alexander had provided, was added to the BOLO, the law enforcement term for “be on the lookout”. Still, Olivia had her doubts whether anything would come of it. Alexander had assured her he was working other angles, unbeknownst to the FBI, but refused to tell her what they were. Part of her began to think he simply said that to assuage her fears. The other part of her was terrified of what he would find if he dug too deep.
The house that, just hours ago, had been a flurry of activity in preparation for the ransom exchange was now quiet. Moretti thought Maleek would make contact with her again, but the call never came.
After several hours, most of the FBI agents decided to relocate to the command center down the street from their house. It was nice to have some privacy again, but with the lack of activity and noise, it felt as if nothing were being done to find Melanie. Olivia prayed she was still okay, that Maleek hadn’t carried out any of his threats. While she hated the FBI’s presence in her house, their absence terrified her. With them here, she was an eyewitness to the frenzied pace at which they moved to find her daughter. Phones constantly rang, people appeared at their door with more files, more computers, more everything. Now, it was eerily silent. No longer surrounded by chaos, she felt more alone than she could bear.
“Mrs. Burnham?” Robert’s voice cut through her thoughts and she glanced up, dazed. She didn’t feel like herself. She felt like an outsider watching the drama unfold as a strange family navigated through a horrible tragedy.
“Yes?” Olivia heard herself say. It didn’t sound like her voice. It was distant, alien, obscure.
“Thanks for your time tonight, ma’am.” He stood from the chair across from her and collected his things. “If you think of anything else that could help with his description, please call.” He handed her a simple white business card, the FBI’s logo dead center. “It’s my understanding Agent Long will be staying here with you to keep you apprised of the investigation?” He raised his eyebrows.
Olivia nodded. After most of the agents and officers had dispersed, Agent Long stayed behind, informing the family she would be camping out at the house until the investigation came to an end. Olivia wondered whether that was the real reason for the agent’s presence. It was just as easy to keep them updated on any developments via phone. Still, it gave Olivia some sense of security, regardless of how fleeting it truly was. She had always felt secure and protected by her husband. His need to keep her safe was one of the things she fell in love with before she even realized it. His loyalty. His protectiveness. His willingness to risk his life for hers. All reasons she fell madly in love with this man when she had avoided love for so long.
But all that had been destroyed in the blink of an eye. She no longer felt as if her home were an impenetrable building where they could live out their happily ever after. A black cloud hung over the house, under her skin, in her soul. The void left from the absence of laughter and little feet running down the halls made her ache with a pain she couldn’t describe.
“I’ll let you get some rest,” Robert said.
Olivia simply stared blankly at him. He paused for a moment, probably waiting for her to say goodbye, but she had no words left. The helplessness she had avoided all day as they were swept up in the whirlwind of the investigation crashed over her.
She stood from the couch, leaving Robert standing there, and walked out of the room.
“Olivia, love,” Alexander called after her, excusing himself from the hushed conversation he had been having with Martin as they toiled over his laptop, probably trying to find Maleek before the FBI did.
She stopped as she approached the ornate staircase, the focal point of the grand entrance to their extravagant house. Yellow police tape roping off the table and broken centerpiece caught her eye.
It took some convincing on Alexander’s part for the FBI to allow them to stay when the house could be considered an active crime scene. Olivia understood the FBI’s need to maintain the integrity of the evidence, but this was their home. She refused to allow anyone to chase her out.
She turned to face her husband, concern and worry etched on his strong face.
“What can I do?”
Alexander always had a way of asking the right question. He knew not to ask what was wrong or if she was okay. Those questions could be answered without words. Instead, he asked the question she needed at that moment.
Approaching him, she ran her hands through his dark hair. “You’re already doing it, Alex.” She placed a soft kiss on his lips, trying to hide her true anguish. He had enough on his plate at the moment. He had the resources and ability to track down their daughter. Olivia, on the other hand, felt completely useless, like she had nothing to offer. Even worse, as she had watched Alexander do everything within his power to find Melanie throughout the day, she kept thinking about Mischa. She’d barely had time to mourn her death before her world was tilted on its axis.
“You look exhausted. Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down?” he suggested. “I’ll come get you if I find anything.”
Olivia nodded, allowing his promise to bathe her with a modicum of comfort. She wanted to ask if he had heard anything more from Dave about Mischa’s case, but stopped herself. What kind of grieving mother would she be if she didn’t devote all her anguish, heartache, and tears to her missing daughter? One wrong move and the media would crucify her.
“I love you, Mr. Burnham.” She placed a lackluster kiss on his lips before heading up the staircase, which was lined with framed photos of their family. They were so happy, so peaceful, so secure. They would never have that again. Even if they found Melanie and she had been spared any physical scars, the psychological ones would never vanish. Olivia was living proof of that. She’d suffered a traumatic event in her early years, having witnessed her own mother’s death at the age of six. To this day, even over thirty years later, it still haunted her. She had done everything in her power to shield Melanie from enduring anything like that in her life. She’d failed her.