Jeffery Deaver - Speaking In Tongues

“What is it?” He felt an urge to append a “honey” but nipped that one fast.

“Just that it seems so much more serious with the FBI involved.”

How foolish people are, how trusting, how their defenses crumble like sand when they believe they’re talking to a friend. And oh how they want to believe that you are a friend…

Why, if wild animals were as trusting as human beings they’d have gone extinct ages ago.

Aaron Matthews, no longer portraying the stony-voiced FBI agent, protector of children, hung up the phone after speaking with Tate Collier. He almost felt guilty-it had been so easy to draw information out of the man.

And what information it was! Oh, Matthews was angry. His mood teetered precariously. All his preparation-such care, such finesse, everything constructed to paralyze Collier and his wife with sorrow and send them home to brood about their lost daughter… and what were they doing but playing amateur detectives?

Their talking to Hanson could be a real problem. Megan might have said something about loving her parents and never even considering running away. Or,even worse, they might become suspicious of Matthews’s whole plan and have the police go through Hanson’s office. He’d been careful there but hadn’t wore gloves all the time. There were fingerprints-and the window latch in the bathroom where Matthews had snuck in was still broken. Then there was Amy Walker,

Megan’s friend. With a book bag that probably didn’t have anything compromising but might-maybe a diary or those notes teenage girls are always passing around in school. And this Eckhard, the teacher and coach. What did he know?

Reports of a car following her…

Much of Matthews’s reconnaissance had been conducted around the school. If the teacher had walked up to the car he might easily have gotten the license number of the Mercedes; Matthews hadn’t changed the license plates to the stolen ones until yesterday. And even if Eckhard didn’t think he’d seen much, there were probably some prickly little facts locked away in the teacher’s subconscious; Matthews had done much hypnosis work and knew how many memories and observations were retained in the cobwebby recesses of the mind.

Why the hell was Collier doing this? Why hadn’t the letters fooled him? He was a fucking lawyer! He was supposed to be logical, he was supposed to be cold. Why didn’t he believe the bald facts in front of him?

A dark mood began to settle on Matthews but he struggled to throw it off.

No, I have no lime for this now! Fight it, fight it, fight it…

(He thought of how many patients he’d wanted to grab by the lapels and shake as he shouted, Oh, quit your fucking complaining! You don’t like her, leave. She left you? Find somebody else. You’re a drunk, stop drinking.)

And closing his eyes fiercely, clenching his fists until a nail broke through the flesh of his palm, he struggled to remain emotionally buoyant. After a few minutes he forced the mood away. He returned to the phone and called three Walkers in Fairfax before he got the household that included a teenage Amy.

“Yes, Amy’s my daughter,” the woman’s cautious voice said. “Who’s this?”

“I’m William McComb, with the county. I’ve gotten a call from Child Protective Services.”

“My God, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing to be alarmed at, Mrs. Walker. This doesn’t involve your daughter. We’re investigating a case involving Megan McCall.”

“Oh, no! Is Megan all right? She spent the night here!”

“That’s what we understand. It seems she’s missing and we’ve been looking into some allegations about her father.”

There was a moment’s pause.

“Tate Collier,” Matthews prompted.

“Oh, right. I don’t know him. You think he’s involved? You think he did something?”

“We’re just looking into a few things now. But I’d appreciate it if you’d tell your daughter she shouldn’t have any contact with him.”

“Why would she have any contact with him?” the edgy voice asked. How easily she’ll cry, Matthews predicted.

“We don’t think there’d be any reason for him to hurt or touch her…”

“Oh, God. You don’t think?”

“We just want to make sure Amy stays safe until we get to the bottom of what happened to Megan.”

“‘Happened to Megan’? Please tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t really say any more at this time. Tell me, where’s your daughter now?”

“Upstairs.”

“Would you mind if I spoke to her?”

“No, of course not.”

A moment later a girl’s lazy voice: “Hello?”

“Hi, Amy. This is Mr. McComb. I’m with the county. How are you?”

“Okay, I guess. Like, is Megan okay?”

“I’m sure she’s fine. Tell me, has Megan’s father talked to you recently?”

“Urn,” the girl began.

“You answer,” the mother said sternly from a second phone.

“Yeah, like, he said she’s missing and asked me about her. He was going to come by and get her book bag.”

“So he’s interested in what’s in her bag? Did you get the impression he was concerned with what might be inside?”

“Like, maybe.”

The mother: “You were going to let him in here? And not tell me?”

The girl snapped, “Mom, just, like, cut it out, okay? It’s Megan’s dad.”

Matthews said sternly, “Amy, don’t talk to him. And whatever you do, don’t go anywhere with him.”

“I-”

“If he suggests going away, getting into his car, going into his barn…“

“God, his barn?” her mother gasped. Yep, Matthews could hear soft weeping.

He continued, “Amy, if he offers you something to drink..

Another gasp.

Oh my, this was fun. Matthews continued calmly, “… whatever he says tell him no. If he comes over don’t answer the door. Make sure it’s locked.”

“Like, why?”

“You don’t ask why, young lady. You do what the man says.”

“Mom, like, come on… What about her book bag?”

“You just hold on to it until you hear from me or someone at Child Protective Services. Okay?”

“I guess.”

“Should we call the police?” Mrs. Walker asked.

“No, it’s not a criminal charge yet.”

“Oh, God,” said Amy’s mother, the woman of the limited epithets. Then: “Amy, tell me. Did Megan’s father ever touch you? Now, tell the truth”

“Who? Megan’s father? Mom, you’re such a loser I never even met him.”

“Mrs. Walker?”

“Yes. I’m here.” Her voice cracked.

“I really don’t want to alarm you unnecessarily.”

“No, no. We appreciate your calling. What’s your number, Mr. McComb?”

“I’m going to be in the field for a while. Let me call you later, when I’m back at the office.”

“All right.”

Matthews felt a cheerful little twinge as he heard her crying. Though Amy’s silence on the other extension was louder.

He couldn’t resist. “Mrs. Walker?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have a gun?”

A choked sob. “No, we don’t. I don’t. I’ve never… I wouldn’t know how to use one. I guess I could go to Sports Authority. I mean-”

“That’s all right,” Matthews said soothingly. “I’m sure it’s not going to come to anything like that.”

“What if Megan’s mother, like, calls?” the girl asked.

“Yes,” Mrs. Walker echoed, “what if her mother calls?”

A concerned pause. “I’d be careful. We’re investigating her too… It was a very troubled household, it seems.”

“God,” Mrs. Walker muttered.

Matthews hung up.

What a mess this could become. The kidnapping had been so simple in theory But, in practice, it was growing so complicated. Just like the art of psychiatry itself, he reflected.