The Vanishing Season (The Collector #4)(45)

“Detective Matson never stopped working Faith’s case,” I explain. “Over the years, he’s noticed several other cases with similarities, specifically in the age and appearance of the girls and when they’ve gone missing. He wasn’t sure they were connected, but with Brooklyn’s case hitting the news, he brought them to our attention.”

“Similarities.”

“Eight-year-old white girls with blonde hair and blue eyes who go missing in late October or early November while they’ve been walking home from somewhere familiar.”

“That’s . . . very specific,” he says with a precision that hints that what he actually wants to say is not so polite.

“Yes. This morning, we were given the official go-ahead to pursue this lead. Our unit chief is putting in the requests for the official files and establishing jurisdiction, but we wanted to warn you and also ask if you ever looked into Erin’s case yourself after coming to the Bureau.”

“That would be a misuse of Bureau resources for a personal quest,” he says dryly.

“So you still have your notes?”

He lets out a harsh bark of laughter. “Yeah, I’ve got my notes at the office. Have to keep them there so I don’t obsess over them this time of year. Can’t say I found much.”

“We’ll be comparing them to the other cases.”

“How many?”

“Including Brooklyn, we’re looking at a starting figure of six.”

“Starting figure.”

“The time between abductions doesn’t make sense yet.”

“Eddison? Talk to me, old man.”

Sighing, Bran sits up straight in his chair only to immediately slump against the cushioned back. “It’s not a guarantee, but it’s strong enough that we got the go-ahead in the middle of a case with a presumably endangered kid.”

“And Erin’s on that list.”

“Erin’s on that list. So is Faith.”

“I might have another name for you.”

I choke on a grape that I really did mean to chew. Bran puts the heel of his hand against my spine, maybe an inch or two lower than my shoulder blades, and gives a sharp push. I catch the grape when it comes flying out of my mouth and drop it onto a napkin.

“What name?” he asks, looking me over.

Yvonne hands me a bottle of water from her tote bag of doom, which I accept with a grateful nod.

“McKenna Lattimore. She’s a cold case here in the Omaha office. Disappeared in ninety-five while walking home from her piano teacher’s, two streets away.”

“What kind of neighborhood?” asks Gala, already typing in McKenna’s name.

“Pretty squarely middle-class houses. Yards, but not big ones.”

Gala turns one of the monitors around so we can see a girl with a shy smile, blue eyes almost too big for her face, and soft blonde curls with just a bit of a strawberry tint to them.

I check my ViCAP and NCMEC lists, and there she is on both.

As he watches us, Bran’s thumb starts to beat an anxious tattoo against the arm of the chair. Normally he paces when he’s agitated, especially when he’s on the phone. It’s impossible for him to sit still. Now, though, with five of us in the room and with so many computer cables, there’s not really enough space. “Can you send us her file too?”

“It was FBI, so you should be able to pull it up. I’ll check once I’m at the office to make sure nothing got skipped when they scanned everything in a few years ago. I can also see if the lead detective is still around, see if they’ve got anything to add.”

“Vic’s got a gag order to keep this from getting out.”

“I’ll be discreet. And how is your girlfriend Agent Sterling but your boss is Vic?”

It’s not hard to imagine why these two clicked at the academy. Erin and Faith would have been enough to link them, but I’ve heard stories for years about Karwan’s mischief balancing out Eddison’s prickliness. They probably would have been brilliant partners if Vic had been in the market for a full team at that point.

Bran ignores the question. “Sterling’s going to be official contact on this one.”

“Because you’re not officially on this one?”

“Something like that.”

“If McKenna proves to belong on your list, that means the Omaha office becomes involved. Specifically, my team.”

“We’ll let you know as soon as we’re reasonably sure,” I promise, “and we’ll have Vic and Agent Dern draw up a letter for your boss explaining why you have to recuse yourself.”

“Text me your contact info; I’ll get you the files as soon as I get to the office. And Eddison?”

“Yeah?”

“If there’s anything I can do—”

“I know,” Bran says softly. “Works the other way around too.”

“You’ll get something from me soon, Eliza.”

“Thank you, Sachin.” My nose wrinkles before I can stop it. It’s positively strange to greet an agent by first name on the first meeting.

“Talk to you soon.”

My work cell dings with an email alert not two minutes later. It’s from Vic, though, not Karwan, and I pull it up on the laptop. “Andrea’s and Emma’s files,” I announce. “Chicago PD is promising Erin’s in an hour or so, once they finish getting everything scanned into a digital file.”