Desires of the Dead
Page 32
Violet was confused. She understood the words, but there was something she didn’t understand, something important. And she didn’t think it was something she could just overlook. “So you don’t actually work for the FBI?”
Sara Priest shook her head. “Not always. Right now I do, at least for the moment. But sometimes it’s the Seattle PD or another police department. On rare occasions, I even work for private investigators or attorneys. But mostly it’s the FBI.”
Violet wasn’t sure what this meant, but somehow it seemed significant. Sara Priest wasn’t an FBI agent. That changed everything, didn’t it? “So is that why you didn’t ask my parents’ permission to question me? Does that mean I didn’t have to come here in the first place?”
“Smart girl,” Sara praised her. “I half-expected you to show up with your uncle.” At Violet’s surprised look, she raised her eyebrows. “Yes, Violet, I did my homework. I know your uncle is the chief of police. But here’s the deal: I’m only questioning you; you’re not a suspect in a crime. And you’re here of your own volition. I only asked you to come. Although rather strenuously, I’ll admit.”
“And if I want to leave?”
Sara Priest remained unruffled by the threat. “I hope you won’t. I hope you’ll at least hear me out.”
Violet still wasn’t sure, but she was already there, and a part of her wanted to know where she’d slipped up, what she’d done to arouse suspicion about her ability.
She shrugged. “Fine, I guess. But can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Why did you ask about my friend Mike Russo that day in the parking lot?”
Sara didn’t hesitate, and she didn’t need further reminding; she knew what Violet was talking about. “I thought I recognized him. From a case I worked about two years ago, while I was still with the Bureau. I had to look it up when I got back, but I was right. It was him.”
Violet leaned forward, her interest secured. “What case?”
“Has Mike mentioned anything . . . about his mother . . . ?”
Violet shook her head.
“Sad, really. Your friend looks different now—older—but I’ll never forget him. Just over two years ago, his mother went missing.” She frowned, as if the memory was still fresh. “The husband was a mess. He just kind of fell apart after his wife disappeared, poor guy. And those kids . . .” She sighed. “I was surprised to see that they’d moved back to the area. If I were him, I’d want to stay as far away as possible.”
“And you never found her?” Violet was sure she already knew the answer. She remembered Chelsea saying that Mike and Megan lived with their father; she never mentioned their mom.
Sara confirmed her doubts. “No. There was a brief investigation, but the husband always believed she just took off. He said she was under a lot of pressure and he didn’t think she could cope anymore. I was never completely convinced, though. There was an abusive ex-husband who was still in the picture, showing up at her work, trying to get her back, even all those years after their divorce. I could never get a good read on him, but in the end there wasn’t enough evidence, so we could never charge him.”
“What did Mike and his sister think?”
Sara shrugged, pursing her lips. “Nothing, as far as I know. They were just kids; there was never a reason to involve them, especially since the investigation into the ex was going nowhere. I questioned them briefly, but I doubt they ever knew I suspected foul play.” She glanced at Violet. “Still, I wish I knew for sure.”
That crawly feeling was back, the sensation that Sara was asking for some sort of admission from Violet, and Violet felt herself withdrawing, pulling away. She wasn’t ready for that. Not yet anyway.
Sara must have realized, and she quickly changed the subject. “As I was saying before, sometimes, as part of my job, I run across people who call in tips for various reasons. Usually these leads go nowhere; people see what they want to see. Mostly they just want to be helpful, but in the process a lot of manpower gets wasted. But your tip proved to be very valuable.” Sara nodded to Violet. “Thank you, by the way. Sometimes the not knowing is the hardest part for families. You gave that boy’s family the closure they deserved.”
Violet remained silent.
“I know you don’t trust me, and that’s okay. I haven’t given you any reason to, and I apologize for that. But my motivations for tracking you down, for trying to talk to you, are good ones.” She leaned forward again; her eyes were eagle sharp now, and she had Violet in her sights.
“I work with certain people, Violet. People with unusual . . . talents, you might say. Unconventional aptitudes that might be considered by some to be extreme, maybe even peculiar. Some of my colleagues think it’s a bunch of crap, but I’ve seen it work. I’ve seen these people in action.” She waited a moment before continuing. “I could understand if someone with an alternative way of viewing the world might want to keep that to herself, for whatever reasons. Reasons maybe only she understands.”
The soft click of the door interrupted them, and Violet was grateful for the intrusion. Her fists were balled tightly in her lap, her palms sweating.
She didn’t know why, but she was surprised when she saw who was there.
Rafe poked his head inside as he spoke quietly to Sara. “We’re ready whenever you are.” If Violet thought he’d seemed out of place on the campus of her school, it was nothing compared to how odd he appeared in the starched world of the FBI field offices.
Sara Priest shook her head. “Not always. Right now I do, at least for the moment. But sometimes it’s the Seattle PD or another police department. On rare occasions, I even work for private investigators or attorneys. But mostly it’s the FBI.”
Violet wasn’t sure what this meant, but somehow it seemed significant. Sara Priest wasn’t an FBI agent. That changed everything, didn’t it? “So is that why you didn’t ask my parents’ permission to question me? Does that mean I didn’t have to come here in the first place?”
“Smart girl,” Sara praised her. “I half-expected you to show up with your uncle.” At Violet’s surprised look, she raised her eyebrows. “Yes, Violet, I did my homework. I know your uncle is the chief of police. But here’s the deal: I’m only questioning you; you’re not a suspect in a crime. And you’re here of your own volition. I only asked you to come. Although rather strenuously, I’ll admit.”
“And if I want to leave?”
Sara Priest remained unruffled by the threat. “I hope you won’t. I hope you’ll at least hear me out.”
Violet still wasn’t sure, but she was already there, and a part of her wanted to know where she’d slipped up, what she’d done to arouse suspicion about her ability.
She shrugged. “Fine, I guess. But can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Why did you ask about my friend Mike Russo that day in the parking lot?”
Sara didn’t hesitate, and she didn’t need further reminding; she knew what Violet was talking about. “I thought I recognized him. From a case I worked about two years ago, while I was still with the Bureau. I had to look it up when I got back, but I was right. It was him.”
Violet leaned forward, her interest secured. “What case?”
“Has Mike mentioned anything . . . about his mother . . . ?”
Violet shook her head.
“Sad, really. Your friend looks different now—older—but I’ll never forget him. Just over two years ago, his mother went missing.” She frowned, as if the memory was still fresh. “The husband was a mess. He just kind of fell apart after his wife disappeared, poor guy. And those kids . . .” She sighed. “I was surprised to see that they’d moved back to the area. If I were him, I’d want to stay as far away as possible.”
“And you never found her?” Violet was sure she already knew the answer. She remembered Chelsea saying that Mike and Megan lived with their father; she never mentioned their mom.
Sara confirmed her doubts. “No. There was a brief investigation, but the husband always believed she just took off. He said she was under a lot of pressure and he didn’t think she could cope anymore. I was never completely convinced, though. There was an abusive ex-husband who was still in the picture, showing up at her work, trying to get her back, even all those years after their divorce. I could never get a good read on him, but in the end there wasn’t enough evidence, so we could never charge him.”
“What did Mike and his sister think?”
Sara shrugged, pursing her lips. “Nothing, as far as I know. They were just kids; there was never a reason to involve them, especially since the investigation into the ex was going nowhere. I questioned them briefly, but I doubt they ever knew I suspected foul play.” She glanced at Violet. “Still, I wish I knew for sure.”
That crawly feeling was back, the sensation that Sara was asking for some sort of admission from Violet, and Violet felt herself withdrawing, pulling away. She wasn’t ready for that. Not yet anyway.
Sara must have realized, and she quickly changed the subject. “As I was saying before, sometimes, as part of my job, I run across people who call in tips for various reasons. Usually these leads go nowhere; people see what they want to see. Mostly they just want to be helpful, but in the process a lot of manpower gets wasted. But your tip proved to be very valuable.” Sara nodded to Violet. “Thank you, by the way. Sometimes the not knowing is the hardest part for families. You gave that boy’s family the closure they deserved.”
Violet remained silent.
“I know you don’t trust me, and that’s okay. I haven’t given you any reason to, and I apologize for that. But my motivations for tracking you down, for trying to talk to you, are good ones.” She leaned forward again; her eyes were eagle sharp now, and she had Violet in her sights.
“I work with certain people, Violet. People with unusual . . . talents, you might say. Unconventional aptitudes that might be considered by some to be extreme, maybe even peculiar. Some of my colleagues think it’s a bunch of crap, but I’ve seen it work. I’ve seen these people in action.” She waited a moment before continuing. “I could understand if someone with an alternative way of viewing the world might want to keep that to herself, for whatever reasons. Reasons maybe only she understands.”
The soft click of the door interrupted them, and Violet was grateful for the intrusion. Her fists were balled tightly in her lap, her palms sweating.
She didn’t know why, but she was surprised when she saw who was there.
Rafe poked his head inside as he spoke quietly to Sara. “We’re ready whenever you are.” If Violet thought he’d seemed out of place on the campus of her school, it was nothing compared to how odd he appeared in the starched world of the FBI field offices.
