Seventeenth Dawn

3) Friendly Agent

The cobalt blue walls press in around us. Tears form, but I can't even think about why. I can't begin to comprehend his words.

"Casey," he says gently. "We will find your friend. We know what area the kil--kidnapper is in now. I think he will stick around for one more."

"But when?" I ask desperately. "It was a month between Rick and Benny, and now Daniel was taken just a day after Benny's disappearance. And where are Benny and Rick? Their birthdays have already happened."

He sucks in his ghoulish cheeks, bloodshot eyes wandering off into the distance. "Let me handle that."

"Just tell me," I whisper, unable to manage a stronger voice. Almost begging. "Please."

He rubs one of his exhausted eyes. "I..."

"Please. I need to know the reality of it."

He sighs, nodding despite himself. "I think we have two bodies to search for."

I slump back in the chair, imagining my classmates with cold, dead eyes. I've never seen a real dead person, even the funerals I've been to were all closed casket. I can't say I'm looking forward to that day. I lean forward again. "I want to help."

"You are a civilian, not to mention a child."

"I'm sixteen. I have motive for this case to be solved, you can kick me out whenever if I get too emotional, and I'm not at risk of being a victim." I glance down. "I'm too much of a girl, and, besides, my birthday is in June."

He sighs again, pushing the air heavily out of his lungs. "This is a job shadow because you are an aspiring detective, got it?"

My eyes flick up to his, and a small smile jumps onto my lips but quickly falls flat once more. "Thank you."

"Get out of here. I'll call you when I find something. I'm also going to send a team to your area to look for those boys."

Bodies is what he really means.

"Shouldn't I come back tomorrow? Since this is a job shadow?" I emphasize the last two words with a pointed look at him.

He meets my look with understanding in his dark, relaxed brows. His eyes linger on me, narrowing as a thought strikes him. "Actually, I think it's time I take a trip west to Belleridge."

I help him gather and carry all the folders he thinks he might need to consult related to the case. On our way out the door, before we even get to Officer Benson again, a group of people wearing either suits or blue jackets with the letters FBI printed in gold over their right clavicle file out of the chief's office.

"Hussler," a squatty, dark-skinned man calls from among the procession. I assume he is the chief of police. "Agent Baxter would like to speak with you."

Hussler's face looks mildly irritated, and underneath, I think, he may just be murderous. Through his teeth he replies, "Sir, I was just leaving for Belleridge."

"Is it for the case?" the chief asks in a condescending way that tells me he already knows the answer but wants Hussler to admit it.

"Yes, sir. It is."

"Have we not established that your case is Agent Baxter's case?"

Hussler's expression gradually sobers and his voice loses its confidence. "Yes, sir. We have." The chief peers around Hussler's lanky frame to look at me. "And who is she?"