The Longest Silence. Debra Webb

       4

      Milledgeville, Georgia

      8:30 p.m.

      It was late, but the tension in the chief of police’s office was motivated by far more than the hour. Tony sensed the animosity the moment he walked through the entrance doors of the Public Safety building. Obviously, the man already had Tony’s number. Not surprising. Any cop worth his salt would do his homework.

      There was a time when Tony had been damned good at prompting all the right reactions. Not anymore.

      Since it was well past business hours, a uniformed officer had been waiting to allow him into the one-story building and then to escort him to the office of the town’s top cop. A tall, fit man, Chief Arlan Phelps had no doubt spent the last thirty or so years in law enforcement and possessed no tolerance for those who used evasion and innuendo to manipulate events.

      Not so good for Tony since these days those were his most valuable assets.

      “Make yourself comfortable, Agent LeDoux.” Phelps gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

      “Thanks.” Tony settled into the offered seat, careful to keep his gaze on the chief. He’d pulled over at a truck stop outside Atlanta. After topping off the gas tank, he’d spent some time in the bathroom shaving and changing clothes. Then he’d forced himself to eat a hot meal. He’d used some Visine to tone down his bloodshot eyes and popped a couple of Advil. By the time he made the exit for Milledgeville some ninety miles later he felt reasonably human.

      Phelps hadn’t stopped staring at him since he came into the room. The older man smoothed a palm over his slick head. “There is nothing in this world I hate more than having my time wasted, and you, Mr. LeDoux, wasted a good deal of my time this afternoon.”

      So, he knew Tony’s secret. Great. Might as well play this out and see if there was anything salvageable. “How do you mean, Chief? When a young woman—anyone for that matter—goes missing, I take it very seriously, and time is not an asset that should ever be wasted in a situation such as this one.”

      “The FBI tells me you’re no longer in their service.” Phelps leaned back in his chair and rested his hands on its worn, smooth wooden arms. “I don’t know what to make of that, Mr. LeDoux. Isn’t it against the law to impersonate a federal agent?”

      Now he was just being an asshole.

      Tony nodded. “You’re right. I used the position I once held to prompt you to action. The truth is Tiffany is my niece—my only niece, daughter of my only sister. My goal is to ensure everything possible is done to find her.” He held up a hand when Phelps would have spoken. “I no longer serve the Bureau, that’s true, but I did and I was very good at my job. I can help—I want—to help.”

      Phelps smiled. “I figured as much after I spoke with the girl’s parents. Here’s the problem.” He leaned forward, eliciting a groan from his chair. “We have no real proof at this time that Tiffany Durand is missing. She’s nineteen years old and even her roommate said she might just have decided to take a little vacation with the new guy she’s seeing and hasn’t made it back to class in time. It happens. It’s too early to get worried just yet.”

      Tony prepared to list the litany of reasons that assessment was inaccurate except this time Phelps was the one holding up his hand. So Tony grabbed onto his last shred of patience and heard the man out.

      “I make my decision based on facts and the facts simply don’t indicate foul play just yet. I don’t know how well you keep up with your niece, but this isn’t the first time she’s disappeared. Campus security is lead on any case that involves the students and they’ve questioned her roommate and several of her friends—just because her parents called. I spoke with the chief over there—for no other reason than you asked me to do so. As you know, without some indication of foul play or suggestion of imminent danger, Tiffany is not technically missing. She’s a nineteen-year-old woman who didn’t show up for class and who has a record of doing so. The good news is she always comes back. Never misses more than a day or two.”

      When the chief paused to take a breath, Tony argued, “We believe this time is different. Tiffany’s mother knows her better than anyone and she has reason—”

      “Mr. and Mrs. Durand explained their feelings very clearly and we all completely understand their misgivings. Hell, I have two daughters and raising them about put me six feet under. Girls, no matter how smart and how sweet, can break your heart and scare you half to death.”

      Tony took a moment as if he were weighing the chief’s sage words. “So, you’re choosing to impose a waiting period?”

      Federal law left the decision in the hands of local law enforcement, but few opted to hold out and be the reason a missing child or young adult became a homicide case. Tony held the older man’s gaze. Men like Phelps didn’t like veering outside the lines. They chose a path in their careers and they never deviated, kept it simple. But life wasn’t simple. Tony had seen up close what a psychopathic serial killer could do to a victim in a couple of hours. Time was always the enemy.

      “Tiffany’s done this before,” Phelps reminded him. “The security folks over at the college are an outstanding team. They go through the same training as our state police so we’re not talking about a group of rent-a-cops. They’ve performed their due diligence. Frankly, they’ve already gone above and beyond—questioning other students, talking to her professors. They haven’t been twiddling their thumbs over there. In fact, I’ve spoken to the chief several times today. Based on Tiffany’s previous activities, he feels she’ll show up in the next twenty-four hours.”

      “Her previous activities?” The headache had resurrected and started to throb behind Tony’s eyes. “You keep insinuating she’s done this before but I’m not hearing any actual dates or firm accounts.”

      Phelps heaved an impatient sigh. “Twice last semester and a third time back in February, she disappeared for a couple of days. Her confidential contact confirmed that she left of her own volition after her final class last Friday. Bottom line, at this time we have no credible reason to consider her missing. If she does not show up or contact her family or confidential contact by tomorrow morning, we’ll move forward with a missing person report.”

      “Confidential contact?”

      “Each student has the option of designating a confidential contact that isn’t necessarily a parent or other next of kin. Typically, a confidential contact is close to the student and would be aware of his or her whereabouts.”

      “Well.” Tony stood. He closed the button of his jacket. “I’ll see you first thing in the morning, Chief.”

      Before Tony reached the door, Phelps said, “You’re that convinced she’s not going to show up.”

      Tony thought of all Angie had told him. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

      He reached for the door once more, and Phelps said, “Sit back down, Agent LeDoux.”

      Tony hesitated for a couple of seconds, mostly to annoy the man. Finally, he turned and took the three steps back to his chair. There was only one reason to continue this discussion after such a lengthy discourse of reasons not be concerned. “You know something you haven’t shared with the family.”

      “I’m speaking to you in a professional capacity.”

      Could have fooled me. “I appreciate that, Chief.”

      “This goes no further than this room. We have to consider the welfare of our students and the last thing we want is to have them unnecessarily unsettled.”

      What he really meant was he didn’t want parents calling to demand answers. “I understand.”

      “There’s another freshman who didn’t show up for class yesterday.”

      The rising tide of fear Tony had been holding back