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.In Monroeville," Burroughs said."They called us in as mutual aid—they're not equipped to deal with this kind of thing.""Sounds good.We'll need all the resources we can get.Why don't you coordinate a search of her school, canvass her teachers and as many class mates as you can track down? We'll also need a walk and talk centering on the school, see if we can nail down her movements.Can you and the Monroeville PD handle that?"Burroughs straightened his shoulders, taking obvious umbrage at her implication."We're good.I've already got them working on photos and flyers.""Has anyone contacted NCMEC yet?"They looked at each other."Er, we were just getting to that.""Lowery, why don't you take care of that since we'll want state-wide coordination.I guess that leaves me to deal with the family."She frowned and darted a doubtful glance at the couple standing a few feet away from them.The men seemed more than relieved to relinquish that particular duty.Fine with her.If they were going to get anywhere with this, it was going to come from the family and what they did—or did not—know.Even with stranger abductions, it was always about the family.The ones left behind.Waiting."I'll get them inside." She gave the other officers her card with her contact numbers and steeled herself to handle the grieving family.The two detectives and Dunmar closed ranks behind her, watching, judging the new kid on the block.She didn't mind that—hell, she'd been weighing their measure ever since she arrived on scene.It was juggling the emotional napalm of the mother and father that was going to be tricky."Hey, LT!" A familiar voice called.At last, the cavalry had arrived.Two very disparate men approached Lucy.Special Agent Zach Taylor was SAFE's forensic computer technician, fresh enough from his graduation from the Academy that he still dressed in Hollywood inspired G-man fashion: narrow-lapelled black suit, white shirt, dark tie, and Oakley sunglasses.His enthusiasm and frequent repetition of the phrase, "back at Quantico they told us." made Lucy's teeth ache, but when it came to tech-stuff he knew how to get the job done.With him was an older, bald black man.Her second in command, Isaac Walden, had the longest tenure of anyone at SAFE: almost four years, first in Atlanta, now here with the new unit in Pittsburgh.He was six years older than Lucy and no one had been able to explain to her why he hadn't moved on.By all rights he should have been promoted long ago to Supervisory Special Agent in charge of his own team.In a unit where the stress level was so high that mandatory psych evals occurred every six months, it was unheard of for an agent to remain as long as Walden.Taylor she had pegged as the class clown—she'd already had to quash some of his rambunctious limit-testing.No problem for a mother who'd survived one toddler.Walden, she wasn't as certain about.He could be a serious head-case, burnt out, biding his time until mandatory retirement.She hoped not, but for now she was withholding judgment."Thanks for inviting us to the party," Taylor said as he reached her side."Where do you want us?""You take the girl's room and any electronics she may have access to.Walden, let's divide and conquer the folks." She glanced beyond them to the ever-present fourth estate whose ranks were swollen now from two news trucks to three."Inside."Taylor bounded into the house like a lost puppy scenting dinner.Walden remained at her side, letting her take the lead."Hear you found my boys," Walden said as they approached the distraught mother and the stone-faced father."Safe and sound.It was a team effort—hope you don't mind, I let the Staties take the credit."He merely shrugged.Angry or agreeing with her, she wasn't certain.She didn't have time to think about it."Mr.and Mrs.Yeager? I'm Special Agent Guardino from the FBI.Could we talk inside?" Both were silent.Mrs.Yeager had her eyes squeezed shut and fists raised as she leaned against the man.Lucy pried her away, the woman almost collapsed in her arms, and led her to the house."My baby, where's my baby?" the mother sobbed.Chapter 6Saturday 10:28 amLucy settled Melissa Yeager into a kitchen chair.Without the red blotches covering her cheeks and the runny nose, she would have been a beautiful woman.She had long blonde hair, pulled back into a pony tail that emphasized high, cavernous cheekbones, perfect teeth, a wide mouth, and a slender patrician neck."Would it be all right if I made tea?" Lucy asked.A panacea for grieving mothers."The cupboard beside the oven," the mother stirred herself to answer."What's your name again?"She seemed calmer, more focused now that it was just the two of them.Had the drama queen act been a performance put on for the men outside? For the husband—rather, ex-husband? The press? Or the cops?Maybe all of the above.In Lucy's experience, shock and fear brought out the worst in people—including the need some people had to center the drama on themselves rather than the true victims.She busied herself microwaving two cups of herbal tea while examining the kitchen for clues to its occupants.Even though Lucy and her family had moved here only three months ago, still had boxes to unpack, their kitchen had already become the center of their universe.A large calendar filled with everyone's schedule hung on the wall, Megan's soccer cleats and shin pads lay on the floor beside the back door sharing space with Lucy's running shoes, Nick's bike helmet hung on the door knob, lopsided pottery coffee mugs proclaiming "greatest Mom in the world" and "world's best Dad" were displayed with pride on the windowsill above the sink along with a plaster cast of Megan's pre-school handprint.Here, in the Yeager kitchen, there existed none of that detritus of everyday life.Instead, it was cold, sterile.All chrome and black, relieved only by white semi-gloss trim and sandstone tile on the floors.No photos except a framed black and white print of the Eiffel tower
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