Pretty Girls Dancing(19)
Bastard.
Special Agent Mark Foster
November 4
5:34 p.m.
“No! We’ve been through this a dozen times!” Shannon DeVries plucked at the arm of the couch with quick, nervous movements. “Why aren’t you doing something?” Her voice grew louder. A little wild. “Why aren’t you finding my daughter instead of asking us the same questions over and over like a broken record?” She sprang up from the couch on that last word as if propelled and paced agitatedly. “It’s like being stuck in that movie Groundhog Day. We just keep reliving the same horrific hours, and nothing changes. You people are useless!”
Mark glanced at Brian DeVries to gauge his mood. The man made no move to calm his wife and looked one step away from having his own outburst.
Dealing with parents was always a minefield. Managing one who was law enforcement required a degree of diplomacy that Mark feared he hadn’t yet acquired in his twelve years as an agent. Normally, the trick was to soothe and elicit information at the same time. To rewrap what they already knew with any new facts that could be shared to give them a sense of progression. DeVries saw through those efforts. And despite being a cop, he was as impatient as any other parent would be with less-than-lightning-speed results on his daughter’s investigation.
Mark couldn’t totally blame him. If he were in the man’s position, he’d be chewing glass by now.
“Don’t think that because I’m here talking to you that nothing is being done for Whitney. Agent Craw is conducting more interviews as we speak. We’ve got local officers manning the tip line and investigators following up on every single lead that comes in. We’ve submitted details of your case to federal databases, and we follow up on each hit we get. We’ve got more personnel back at BCI headquarters chasing down details they don’t have to be on scene for.” He gave Shannon a reassuring smile. “You’ve got a regular battalion working on your behalf, even if you don’t see most of them.”
It was impossible for a civilian to understand the myriad paths this investigation had already explored. Or the way each path would branch off for each of the tiniest facts. But he’d gotten Shannon’s attention, and that was step one. She returned to the couch, sank down, seeming calmer.
He felt a stab of empathy. When he became irritated, he just thought of Nicky, and how he’d feel if he were in the parents’ place. The investigators would be ready to shoot him by now. Maybe that’s why he was better suited than Craw to deal with the families. Thrice-divorced, Ben had never had kids. He was still a hell of an agent but had a harder time having his decisions constantly questioned by the victims’ families.
“I can’t think of anything more difficult than what the two of you are going through now. But we’re making progress.” He sat on the edge of the ottoman in front of the couch. “The reason I asked again about boyfriends is that our warrants went through. We’ve gotten the cell phone data back for Whitney’s cell, as well as preliminary forensic information from her social media sites. We’ve focused on speaking to everyone she was friends with online that we haven’t already interviewed. We found an irregularity in one of the Facebook accounts.”
“An irregularity?” Brian leaned forward, his dark gaze intense. “What does that mean?”
Mark kept his voice conversational. “There was a boy from Blackston that she was friends with online. She was communicating with him regularly, at first using Facebook chats before they started text messaging.”
Shannon looked at her husband helplessly. “I don’t understand. The only time Whitney is in Blackston is when we’re at my mom’s.”
Her husband didn’t spare her a glance. “So, who’s the boy?”
“His name is Patrick Allen.” Mark watched the two carefully. “Does that ring a bell?”
Shannon shook her head. She was a petite blonde woman, nearly dwarfed by the oversize sofa. “I grew up in Blackston, but I don’t recognize the name. Do you think he had something to do with Whitney’s kidnapping?”
“We’re not sure yet.” Mark shifted his gaze to Brian. “We’ve interviewed the boy, and he denies knowing your daughter. Said he’s been locked out of his Facebook account for months and hasn’t been able to resolve the issue. He finally gave up and established a new one, and Whitney isn’t a contact on it.”
“And you believe him?”
Ignoring the belligerence in the other man’s tone, Mark replied, “We have no reason not to at this point. His father agreed to surrender the boy’s cell and the family electronics. We also have Patrick’s school-issued laptop. But the Allens were in Columbus visiting relatives the weekend Whitney went missing. Their alibi will be easy to verify.” In fact, the team was in the process of doing that right now.
“Relatives could cover up for him. Did he have access to a vehicle? Maybe he was luring Whitney on behalf of someone else. I wouldn’t be so quick to write off this kid’s involvement.” Brian’s words came in short, staccato bursts.
“We aren’t.” Mark’s look encompassed both parents. “We won’t.”
“What . . .” Shannon’s voice broke on the word, and she paused as if to steady herself before going on. “What did the messages say?”