Doom with a View (22 page)

“Why don’t you all take a seat on the couch and I’ll get Jim from upstairs,” she said before dashing off to another spiral staircase.

We waited until the clink of her shoes had topped the last step before Candice motioned me over to one of the couches, where the two of us took a seat. “Cozy!” Candice whispered as we sat down on the hard cushion, and I stifled a giggle while Harrison shot us both a warning look.

Harrison and Blass stood as stiff as the furniture, waiting without speaking as the seconds ticked by. After what felt like many minutes, two sets of feet clinked down the spiral staircase. All of us looked in that direction as Mrs. Coyle and her husband circled down to the ground. His Honor the judge was even more of a surprise than his wife. Short and slim with jet-black hair and wire-rimmed glasses, he looked far younger than the age I suspected he’d be. When he stood next to his wife, it was almost comical—like the clown car at the circus had just opened its doors and these were the first two occupants to come out.

His Honor nodded to us and remained standing, while his wife moved to the second couch and sat down. Introductions were made again and Harrison took charge. He conducted the interview asking all the questions I assumed the couple had already answered countless times from various law-enforcement officials, and they seemed weary of the repetition but gave their answers without protest or impatience. Throughout it all I waited for some signal from my radar, but try as I might to tune in on her energy, I couldn’t really get a bead on Representative Coyle, and her husband was even worse.

Internally I grew frustrated as I realized I’d likely hit on two people whose energy just didn’t emit a strong enough vibe for me to pick up on. This happened very, very rarely in my world, but every once in a great while I’d get a client that I couldn’t read. I didn’t know why this happened, and it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing—just some people have very “quiet” energy that doesn’t allow my radar to really perceive anything about them. The fact that there would be two such energies together in one room—and married, no less—was what made it so striking to me. And I had to wonder whether all the mixed messages that I’d picked up on for their daughter might also be because her own energy wasn’t very “loud” either.

I shook off the frustration, however, and listened to Harrison’s interview, hoping for something,
anything
, to ding my radar. At this point he was asking them about the conference two years previously, and the representative acknowledged that she’d been there. “Did your daughter also attend?” Harrison asked.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Coyle. “She was there. But what does this have to do with her disappearance?”

“There are two other students who went missing around the same time as your daughter who also attended that conference, and we believe that during that event some of the kids may have hung out together. We think your daughter, in fact, might have spent some time with at least two of them.”

Representative Coyle’s eyes held a far-off cast as, I assumed, she thought back to that time. “Are you telling me that either Michael, Kyle, or Bianca are missing?”

My eyebrows shot up. I was surprised at the woman’s memory. “Bianca and Kyle went missing just before your daughter,” Harrison said. “But we’re unfamiliar with Michael. Do you remember his last name?”

The representative turned pale as the impact of what Harrison had said about Bianca and Kyle hit home, but she answered his question by saying, “Michael Derby, from Illinois, the son of U.S. senator Matthew Derby. Leslie hung out with those three during the conference. The kids even stayed in our suite and watched movies until about three a.m. one night. Do you think something has also happened to Michael?”

Harrison scribbled in his notebook before answering, “To our knowledge, ma’am, Michael is fine, but we’ll certainly check in with the senator to make sure.”

“Maybe Michael knows where they are!” Mrs. Coyle said suddenly.

“We’ll certainly ask him,” said Harrison in his usual calm voice. I knew he didn’t want her jumping to conclusions before he talked to Michael and his father first.

“I’ll bet they’re all together,” Coyle continued, looking at her husband pointedly. “I’ll bet they’re off somewhere laughing it up and making us all sweat. It would be just like Leslie to go off and play that kind of prank on us.”

Harrison seemed to shift his position slightly.“Prank?” he asked. “Leslie was given to playing pranks?”

The question seemed to catch Representative Coyle off guard. “Well . . . I mean . . . ,” she blustered. “Not really. Not to this extent, of course, but during her senior year of high school, she went through a slightly rebellious stage.”

“What did she do?” Harrison pressed.

“Nothing overly dramatic. She ran away from home for a week when we took away her car privileges. But she only went to a friend’s house and she came home when she felt she’d made her point.”

“Do you think your daughter could somehow be attempting to make a point by disappearing last May?”

Mrs. Coyle’s eyes flashed again to her husband, and I had the sense that he wasn’t pleased with this line of questioning. He answered for his wife by saying, “No. Leslie isn’t pulling a prank. She would have contacted us. She would have let us know she’s all right. This is completely out of character for my daughter, who has grown up a lot since high school.”

Harrison nodded and moved away from the touchy subject. I had a feeling he’d be doing a lot more digging into Leslie’s behavior at school up to her disappearance, but for now he was going to let it drop.

“One last question,” he said, and I noticed that his eyes flashed briefly to me. “Did Leslie go somewhere the weekend before she disappeared? Maybe take a road trip or something?”

Representative Coyle nodded. “Yes,” she said. “She called to tell me that she and a group of friends were taking a road trip to Ohio State University to visit a friend. I had some concerns about her leaving campus so close to finals, but she assured me that she was well up on her studies, and given her last report card, I had no reason to doubt her.”

When Harrison’s eyes flashed again to me, I allowed the tiniest of smiles. “I’d like to hear more about her trip to Ohio,” Harrison said. “Can you give me the name of one of the friends she went with?”

Representative Coyle’s brow furrowed. “Actually,” she said, “Leslie didn’t mention anyone by name. I knew she was driving, and she said it was with a bunch of friends, so I didn’t think to ask her who specifically she was going with.”

“Do you know the name of the friend she was going to visit?” Harrison asked.

The representative blanched again, her fingers finding the orange pearl necklace at her neck. “No,” she admitted. “Leslie said it was a friend of a friend.”

And I suddenly knew why Leslie hadn’t mentioned anyone in particular. She’d gone alone—of that I was certain—and she didn’t want her mother to know she was off to see Kyle, but why she didn’t want anyone to know wasn’t clear. “Do you think her roommate might have gone or might know one of the other kids who did?” Harrison pressed.

“Maybe,” Mrs. Coyle said. “You can ask Trish if you like. Do you need her number?”

Harrison glanced at Blass, who said, “We have her contact information on file, Representative Coyle. We’ll call her.”

After that, Harrison wrapped it up, thanking the Coyles for their time and asking them to keep the specifics of this case out of the press for now.

I thought that his attempts to keep a lid on this case for much longer were going to prove futile, because two dead children of political leaders and one more missing were bound to turn up as more than coincidental really soon. I also noted that Harrison had been careful not to disclose to the Coyles that both Bianca and Kyle were dead. I figured that was done purposely to keep them cooperative for now.

Harrison was soon folding his notebook closed and looked like he was about to announce his good-byes when Candice asked, “Do you know if Leslie kept in touch with Kyle and Bianca after the conference?”

Again, Representative Coyle looked surprised. “Not that she ever mentioned to me,” she said. “But I suppose she could have.”

Harrison was clearly giving Candice a warning look, but she ignored him by asking, “And do you by any chance have a better photo of Leslie than the one that was supplied to us? The photo we have on file is a bit too grainy for us to work with.”

Mrs. Coyle rose to her feet. “Yes, of course,” she said. “I remember that fuzzy photo I gave you, Agent Blass. I wasn’t thinking about the picture’s quality at the time. When your child goes missing, you lose any ability to think straight.” And with that, she left us to hurry out of the room toward the kitchen. I could see her down the hallway and she was back in only a moment pulling apart a small frame. “Here,” she said, handing the photo to Candice. “That was taken last year at Castle Rock Lake.”

Eagerly I peered over Candice’s shoulder and was again a little surprised to see Leslie still looking very much alive. Candice eyed me cautiously and I gave a small nod to indicate that I believed the girl was still with us. “Thank you for the photo, ma’am,” said Candice. “We’ll make a copy as soon as possible and return the original.”

“Thank you,” said Mrs. Coyle. “And you’ll also let me know as soon as you find out anything about my daughter?”

Candice deferred to Harrison to answer that question and he cleared his throat and said, “We’ll keep you advised of any new developments,” which wasn’t exactly what the Coyles were looking for in the way of reassurances, but it was probably beyond Harrison to consider their feelings.

Soon after this exchange our good-byes were given and we left the couple, heading back to the airport. Harrison and Blass talked in the front seat, mostly about sports, and Candice and I kept quiet. As we unloaded from the car, I had another acute sense of dread when we walked toward the small plane. This time, I knew it was more than just my nerves. Something was telling me that I might want to rethink going up, up, and away.

I stopped on the tarmac just in front of the hangar. Candice eyed me over her shoulder. “You coming?”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

Candice came back to stand next to me. A cold wind had stirred up and sent leaves swirling in little clusters all around the pavement. “What’s up?” she asked softly when she reached my side.

“I can’t get on that plane,” I whispered as my gut clenched at the thought of flying in it.

Candice eyed the plane and its pilot, who was busy going through his preflight checklist again.“Harrison!” she called out, and he looked back at us in surprise.

“What?”

“We’re not getting on that plane,” she said, and immediately I was flooded with relief.

Harrison’s eyes opened wide. “What do you mean, you’re not getting on the plane?”

“Abby’s got a bad feeling.”

Harrison’s brows pulled together and I could tell he really thought we were being ridiculous. “This again?” he asked, his tone impatient, as he walked back to us. “Listen, we made it here okay, didn’t we? Remember how you had a bad feeling before we came, and other than a little turbulence, we made it just fine?”

I nodded reluctantly but held firm. “I’m not flying back in that,” I said, pointing to the plane.

Harrison sighed and I knew he was frustrated. “I’m not authorizing a comp on a regular airline,” he said stonily. “Either you two fly with me or you pay your own way back.”

Candice turned back to me and said, “Are you against planes in general or just that one?”

“Just that one.”

Looking to Harrison, she said, “See ya,” and pivoted with me to walk back to Blass’s car, where luckily he was still parked. Opening the front passenger door, Candice asked, “Can we trouble you for a ride to the airport?”

“We’re at the airport,” Blass said, and I could see his head pivoting back and forth from Candice to Harrison, who stood angrily with his hands on his hips in the same spot we’d left him.

“I know,” Candice said patiently. “But we’re looking for the one with bigger planes.”

At this point Harrison shook his head and turned away from us. We were on our own. “Sure,” Blass finally said. “Hop in.”

I called Dutch the moment our nice, big commercial jet came to a stop on the tarmac at Detroit Metro. “We just landed,” I said wearily. I’d explained to him as we waited to see if we could get on a flight out of Milwaukee that I’d had a really bad feeling about flying in the charter plane, and Candice and I had decided to fly commercial instead. “Can you come give us a lift?”

“Uh . . . no,” he said, and I could hear the tension in his voice and lots of commotion in the background.

“Why? What’s up?” I said.

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Dutch said, “but Harrison’s plane went off the grid somewhere over Lake Michigan.”

“What do you mean, ‘went off the grid’?” I asked in alarm.

“It went off the radar, babe. We think the plane crashed.”

Chapter Ten

Candice and I arrived by taxi at the FBI offices as soon as we could, and by the time we got there, we’d learned that the plane Harrison and Ed were in had been spotted near an old airstrip just off the Michigan coastline, and rescue teams had already been dispatched.

I’d told Candice in the cab that I felt that Harrison was still alive, but Ed’s energy felt very grave. I reiterated this to Dutch when I saw him, and I barely got the words out before he yanked me into his chest and hugged me fiercely. “Thank God you didn’t get on that plane,” he whispered.

Candice too looked a little rattled, and I had the sense that the close call was affecting everyone else a lot more than it was me. Even Gaston seemed anxious. “Why didn’t that idiot listen to you?” he asked me when word came that EMTs were on the scene and Harrison was alive but unconscious.

“He’s not such a big fan of mine,” I replied. “Plus, I didn’t know the plane was going to crash. I just knew it gave me the willies to think about getting on it again.”