“That was Sheridan,” Evan told her as he made his way across the yard to where she stood. “I have to go.”
“Please don’t tell me they found another girl…”
“No. But they did get another letter from the killer. Apparently, he’s really pissed.”
“Sheridan or the killer?”
“The killer. He’d expected Sheridan to let the media know that he was not responsible for the deaths of the three unidentified girls. He wants everyone to know there’s a copycat killer out there, and he wants the media to start referring to him as the Schoolgirl Slayer. He thought Malone was going to take care of these issues for him after he’d written that letter, but as you know, we thought we’d sit on that for a few days.”
“What’s he done?”
“He wrote a second letter. Only he sent this one to Fox News. They aired it about ten minutes ago, right at the top of the seven a.m. show.” He gave her a long kiss on the mouth.
“I miss you so much when you’re not here, Annie.”
“I miss you when I’m not here, too.” She leaned her forehead against his.
“Sooner or later, we’re going to have to talk about that.”
“I know.” She nodded. “It’s getting a little crazy, all this back-and-forth.”
“If I didn’t have this case, I’d be able to come to you.”
“You can’t not be here when something like this is going on. You have to be here.”
“Still…”
“It’s not something we’re going to resolve right now, Evan. We’ll talk about it. Maybe next weekend.”
“Okay. Gotta go.” He kissed her again before heading toward the door. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
“What’s Sheridan going to do?”
“Damage control, he says. Whatever the hell that is at this point.” He waved and went through the garage as a shortcut to his car, which was parked out front.
Annie walked back inside, locked the door, and went upstairs to gather her things. Back downstairs in twenty minutes with her bag and laptop, she decided to check her e-mail before leaving. She set up the computer on Evan’s desk in his study and turned it on. There were e-mails from the office-including one from John asking her to meet with him later that afternoon about the Michigan cases-but nothing from Connor. She turned off the laptop and slipped it into its case, then called the airport to see if there was an earlier flight she could catch back to Virginia. There was one, at 12:45. She booked herself on it and called the office to let John know she’d be there.
She hung up just as her watch beeped the hour. It was nine o’clock. If Will was running true to form today, he’d already been at his desk for several hours. She dialed his cell phone, just in case he’d had a late start and was still in transit or in the field.
“Hey, Annie. Did Evan get my fax?” Will answered, having recognized Annie’s number on the caller ID.
“He did. He’s going to follow up with the investigating officer from Chicago this morning. Thanks so much. That might prove to be the information he needs to crack that case.”
“I hope it helps.” He paused, then asked, “What else is on your mind this morning?”
“You know me all too well.” She sighed, a long deliberately dramatic sigh, and he laughed.
“You just don’t make social calls, Annie. None of us do. Way too busy. So tell, what’s on your mind?”
“Melissa Lowery.”
“What about her?”
“You know her?”
“I did know her. Not well, but I knew her.”
“Everyone says that.” She frowned. “Everyone seems to know who she was, but I can’t seem to find anyone who really knew her. And no one seems to know why she left the Bureau or where she went.”
“Who needs to know?”
“I do. I need to speak with her.” Annie explained about the missing report from Dylan’s file. “I want to ask her if she remembers what she’d observed that night, if she remembers what she wrote.”
“I’m trying to remember if I know anyone who was friends with her.” He was silent for a moment. “I saw her in the lounge once or twice with Mia; maybe she knows something.”
“Mia Shields?”
“Yes. Give her a call. In the meantime, do you want me to see if I can find an address for Melissa?”
“Would you mind?”
“Not at all. I live for these little intrigues. Let me see what I can do. I’ll call you when I have something.”
Annie smiled. Not if, but when.
“Great,” she said. “I’ll give Mia a call now. You wouldn’t happen to have a number for her, would you?”
“Sure. She’s in the directory.” Will read the number off to Annie.
“Great. I love you, Will.”
“Of course you do. Just don’t tell Cahill. She has a nasty temper.”
Annie laughed and hung up. Miranda Cahill, their fellow agent and Will’s live-in love, was as well-known for her even disposition and good humor as she was for her statuesque beauty and her smart-aleck mouth.
Mia Shields answered her phone on the third ring.
“Mia, it’s Annie.” Annie greeted her and made small talk for a few moments, then said, “I’m trying to track down an agent who left the Bureau about two years ago. Someone said they thought you were a friend of hers.”
“Who’s that?”
“Melissa Lowery.”
“Oh, Melissa. Sure, I knew her.”
“Do you know where she is now?”
“No clue. I didn’t know her all that well, I just knew her because of Grady.”
“Grady?”
“He went out with her a couple of times, then when he stopped calling her, she’d corner me and want to know what was up with him, was he seeing someone else, that sort of thing.”
“Grady dated Melissa Lowery?” Annie digested this. “Funny, when I asked your other brothers about her, they claimed not to know her.”
“They may not have. I don’t think they dated for all that long. If neither Brendan nor Andy was around at the time, they may not have been aware Grady’d taken her out. It was never a serious thing, not that I know of anyway, just a few dates. At least, that was my impression.”
“You think Grady knows where I can contact her?”
“You can ask him. I think he’s in his office. Want me to transfer you?”
“That would be great, thanks.”