Chris Mooney - The Missing

A man with a pie-shaped face stepped up next to her.

'This is a missing persons investigation,' Darby said. 'You don't have any jurisdiction -'

'Two federal officers are dead,' Zimmerman said. 'That gives me jurisdictional control. If you have any questions, you can take them up with your attorney general.'

'Why is there a classified DNA sample on CODIS?'

'Good-bye, Miss McCormick.'

Darby turned to Evan. 'Can I speak to you for a moment?'

'I'll talk to you later,' Evan said. 'You need to get going.'

Darby's face reddened. She would never forgive him for the way he had dismissed her.

'You called them out here, didn't you?'

Evan didn't answer. He didn't have to. The look on his face said it all.

'You're trying my patience, Miss McCormick,' Zimmerman said.

Darby didn't move, didn't take her eyes off Evan. 'You know who Traveler is, don't you? Those listening devices were our best shot at finding Traveler, and you knew what he was capable of and let us walk right into that trap.'

The skin on Evan's face tightened. He stared at her with the same cold, penetrating gaze she had witnessed at the lab.

'What about Carol?'

'We'll do everything we can to find her,' Evan said evenly.

'I'm sure you will. I'll make sure I tell her mother what safe and capable hands her daughter is in.'

Vamosi took her arm. It was either go or fight him.

'I need to get my kit,' Darby said.

'I'm sorry, but it needs to stay here,' Vamosi said. 'We'll return it to you when we're done.'

Two federal agents were going through the crime scene vehicle. An unmarked car blocked the trail. Darby had to wait while Agent Vamosi examined items of interest.

Her phone vibrated again. The caller was Pappy.

'I've been trying to reach you all morning. What are you doing with Coop's phone?'

'My phone's busted,' Darby said, walking away from the Explorer. 'What's going on?'

'I have some good news about the paint chip we recovered from Rachel Swanson's T-shirt. The German database came through with the ID. It's the car's original paint job. The color is called Moonlight White. It's a one-of-a-kind paint manufactured only in the U.K. – that's why we couldn't identify it. The paint was used exclusively for the Aston Martin Lagonda.'

'The one from the James Bond movies?'

'The name was made famous in one of the James Bond movies, but the model I'm talking about, the Lagonda, is an early series two, manufactured in the U.K. in the late seventies – seventy-seven, I think. The vehicle was cleared for sale here in the U.S. in eighty-three. They made a conversion kit that had a color TV in the front as well as the back. Back in the day, they sold for 85,000 pounds, which works out to, by today's conversion standards, roughly 150,000 U.S.'

Darby watched as Agent Vamosi went through her backpack. 'That's quite a price tag,' she said.

'I don't know how much they're worth now. They're probably more of an odd collector's item. Only about a dozen or so of these cars were sold in the U.S. We're talking about a very limited – and very select – pool of buyers. A car like that should be easy to track down.'

'Where are you right now?'

'Sitting at home, still trying to absorb what happened. I was out yesterday collecting paint samples at a junkyard. It was a last-minute opportunity. If I didn't take it, I would have been inside the building when it… when it happened.'

Agent Vamosi handed the backpack off to one of the agents and came for her.

'I didn't know your mother was sick,' Darby said. 'I'm sorry.'

'What are you talking about?'

'I think you should see her. She'd love the company.'

'Is someone there?'

'Yes. Listen, I need to get going. The FBI has some questions for me. I have to head down to the Boston office.'

'The feds have taken over the investigation?'

'Correct,' Darby said. 'Who else have you told about your mother's illness?'

'No one but you.'

'Keep it that way. I'll try you on your cell in a little bit.' Darby hung up.

Vamosi stood in front of her. 'Can I have the pictures in your back pocket, please?'

Darby handed them over.

'Are you in possession of any other materials related to this investigation?'

'You have everything,' Darby said.

'For your sake, I hope so.'

And then Darby was seated behind the wheel of the Explorer, the two agents motioning for her to leave. Vamosi had already pulled out. Darby followed. Her arms were shaking with anger, her eyes hot and wet.

She thought about Rachel Swanson. Rachel, with her confident smile and hard-won knowledge, had survived unbelievable pain and cruelty for years. Rachel, with her emaciated body full of scars and sores and broken bones, had kept a list of her fellow prisoners and planned for the moment of her escape. Now she was dead.

And what about Carol? Was she still alive? Or was she already buried in an unmarked grave? Buried like Mel where no one would ever find her?

On the other side of these woods was Route 86. Twenty-four years ago, she had seen a woman being strangled. She didn't know the woman's name or what had happened to her. But Victor Grady did. The man from the woods had come for her and Darby had survived. If she survived that, she could survive anything.

Darby knew what she had to do. When she saw the exit, she hit the gas and bounced up the ramp.

Darby parked the crime scene vehicle in the delivery area behind a liquor store. Safe from prying eyes, she called Pappy back on his cell and quickly filled him in on what had happened. She asked him to repeat the information on the paint chip and wrote everything down in her pocket notebook.

'I meant to ask you this earlier: Who sent the paint sample to the Germans?'

'I did,' Pappy said. 'I sent them a sample in case the feds weren't able to identify it. Plus, the Germans said they would look at it right away.'

'So as far as the feds are concerned, the paint chip wasn't identified.'

'As far as I know. My contact at the federal lab sent me an email and said he struck out.'

Evan Manning had told her the same thing.

'Darby, if the feds find me, I'll have to turn over what I have.'

'Which is why you need to go someplace for the day.'

'Well, I was thinking of heading over to the MIT library for awhile.'

'Good. Stay there – and stay off your phone unless I call.'

Next she called Banville on his cell.

'I take it you heard the good news,' she said.

'Our federal friends are at the station right now, going through my office files and computer.'

'What are they looking for?'

'Beats the hell out of me. They keep throwing out Title Eighteen as the reason for taking over the investigation.'

'Title Eighteen,' Darby said. 'Doesn't that have something to do with the Patriot Act?'

'You've got it. It basically gives the FBI domestic investigative powers in cases involving terrorism. I don't know anything more than that. My guess is, by the way they're racing through here, we've stumbled across something potentially embarrassing and now they're here to sweep it under the rug. When it comes to burying secrets, nobody does it better than our government – especially this administration.'

'I found an entire set of -'

'We shouldn't be talking over a cellular phone. Call me back in five minutes at this number.'

Darby wrote it down and headed out to find a pay phone. There was one just outside the front doors of the liquor store. She went inside to get change and, armed with quarters, called Banville. She kept an eye on the parking lot, paranoid that Agent Vamosi was going to pull up at any moment.

Banville picked up right away. Behind him was the steady drone of traffic.