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Harrison—within earshot of the staff of his favorite restaurant, mind you—that I hoped that pesky little business with Internal Affairs over the sexual harassment allegations from one of his fellow agents was ironed out quickly and that he was eventually cleared of any wrongdoing.”
    I gasped. “You didn’t !”
    Candice’s chuckle became a hearty laugh. “Oh, Abby! You should have seen the look on his face!”
    “Oh, I saw it,” I said. “And may I remind you that we will be spending a lot of time with him over the next couple of days?”
    Candice waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, come on,” she said. “The guy obviously needs to lighten up, and if he can’t take a little joke, who needs him?”
    While I agreed with her that Harrison really could use a little levity in his life, I didn’t know if he’d appreciate it coming from us, but as Candice was getting such a kick out of it, I decided not to rain on her parade. Still, these little games between Harrison and my partner were quickly reminding me of a kindergarten playground.
    The next morning found us back at the field office. Gaston had left us a message requesting that we report in about ten a.m. We were seated in the lobby again at nine forty-five, and at nine fifty a female agent appeared to escort us up to the sixth floor. She led us down a different corridor from our previous visit, through a maze of cubicles into a large conference room, and asked both of us if we would care for any refreshments. Candice and I both took coffee and waited in the empty room for someone to come in.
    As we waited, Candice made a comment or two about the weather, but I didn’t feel like talking. For some reason I was even more nervous today than yesterday. I didn’t have long to dwell on it because at exactly ten o’clock the doors opened and several agents began filing in, each carrying a Styrofoam cup of coffee or a bottle of water. The mood was expectant and serious as they all took their places. Several of the men took notice of me and I could tell they were curious, but other than a “hello” or “good morning,” they didn’t engage us in conversation.
    The last two to arrive were Harrison—who took his seat without making eye contact with us—and Gaston.
    Gaston took his place at the head of the table and surveyed the group gathered around the conference table. “Good morning,” he said, his voice confident and strong. “Thank you all for attending this meeting. As you know from your SACs, I’ve asked each of you here to address the investigation of three missing college students from neighboring states, all with a parent in the state legislature. As the circumstances of each individual disappearance are similar, we wanted to put this task force together to investigate what I feel is a strong connection. And as I am the lead on this task force, I thought it appropriate to call in any available resource at our disposal.”
    Gaston made a point of locking eyes with me, and I had to give the guy credit, because I knew he was putting his butt on the line by including me. “Agents, with us today are Abigail Cooper and Candice Fusco. Ms. Cooper is a very gifted investigative intuitive, and has helped our local Michigan bureau on a number of cases. Her input into those cases undeniably helped the investigation, and in several of them, were it not for her insight, those cases would still be open.”
    I felt several sets of eyes swivel to me, but most of the expressions around the table were unreadable—except for Harrison’s. He barely hid his contempt. I nodded at a few of the men looking at me, and Gaston continued. “Her partner, Candice Fusco, is a licensed PI and an old friend to the FBI. I won’t go into the details of our shared history here, gentlemen, but suffice it to say that I consider Ms. Fusco to also be a valuable asset to this investigation. And I want to make it clear that both women will be allowed access to the facts of this case