Patrick could read things in the human mind, which was why he had begun his collegiate education majoring in psychology and psychiatry, using his talents with the Philadelphia Police Department before becoming entangled in a case with the Krewe. After that, he entered the academy to become a part of it.

  “Thanks, Patrick. How is it going with the videos?”

  “Interesting. We’re making our way through. It was a beautiful service, as I guess you’ve seen already. The singers were damned good. But there were a ton of people there. We’re going bit by bit. We’ll see.”

  “What about the writer? The guy who did the article on the cemetery. I understand he was there.”

  “Yes, he was. I had to look him up online. Got a picture of the man. Young fellow, early thirties. While others were watching the singers or the priest, he was watching Benjamin Robertson.”

  “I want to get him into headquarters. We’re on our way back. I’m going to run to the lab, but I’d like to talk to him soon. Apparently, he called Benjamin Robertson again after the bodies were discovered,” Jackson said.

  They heard a chair scrape.

  “We’ve got an address. I’ll go on over and see if he’s home,” Mark said. “Colleen can keep at these videos with Patrick.”

  “Wherever I’m most useful,” Colleen murmured.

  “Thanks,” Jackson said.

  “Colleen.” Angela motioned for him to bring the phone closer. “If you guys take a break, will you start digging up information on an architect for me? The man who designed the tomb. A Gervais Conte.”

  “Will do,” Colleen promised.

  “Thanks. Jackson, my phone is ringing—”

  “Got it.”

  She had it sitting on top of her bag as she drove.

  He frowned, seeing the name on the screen.

  It was Debbie Nolan. He glanced at Angela and held up the phone so she could see. She nodded with a frown, and he answered the phone quickly.

  “Jackson Crow.”

  “Help! Oh, my God, help!” Debbie cried.

  Chapter 4

  Jackson had suggested to Angela that she could stay and interview Jefferson Moore, but she had said that would have to wait. She felt that she might be the calming factor for Debbie Nolan.

  While they arrived as quickly as possible at the young woman’s home, they weren’t the first on the scene. Although he’d had some difficulty understanding Debbie on the phone since she had been so hysterical, Jackson had ascertained that Officer Whittaker had disappeared.

  They knew Owen Whittaker. They often worked with local police on problem situations. There was no way the man would be derelict in his duty, which meant that someone had forced him to leave. But that also meant he might still be alive. If so, he was most probably in danger. Someone needed to get there fast. Jackson had seen to it that the closest police presence was called in, and they arrived on the scene almost instantly.

  He and Angela met an Officer Channing as they reached the yard. The man was grim, seemed concerned, and had been searching in front of the house, thrashing through the bushes, when they arrived. But he knew them—many of the local officers knew the Krewe members.

  “Miss Nolan is in the house, still tearing it apart, room to room,” he told them. “My partner and I haven’t been able to calm her down, but we’ve checked out his car. He’s not in it. We even forced the trunk, but he wasn’t stuffed into that either. Someone pulled the wiring on the security system. It wasn’t a great one to begin with, but Miss Nolan was smart enough to have a camera covering the front at the very least. No alarm was triggered, and the door wasn’t forced. Whoever came and whisked Officer Whittaker away had to be someone he knew or expected.”

  The man had spoken all of that in a rush. Then he winced and added, “I’m worried, Special Agent Crow. I’ve worked with Whittaker for years. He’s as solid and ethical a man as you can get. He didn’t just walk off the job.”

  “We know, Officer Channing. No one thinks he shirked his duties. We will get to the bottom of what happened,” Angela promised. “Excuse me. I’ll try to calm Debbie down and find out if she can tell us anything.”

  “Miss Nolan said she was in her bedroom folding clothes, felt hungry, and came out to the living room to ask if Officer Whittaker wanted something to eat. He had been on the sofa when she went to see to her laundry. She’d suggested that he watch a game on television—I guess they had talked, and she knew that he loved sports. Anyway, he wasn’t there. The television was blaring, but she hadn’t paid any attention to it. She looked through the house and then panicked, thinking that someone was still inside after doing something to her protector, and worried they’d be after her next.”

  “That must be when she called us,” Jackson said. “As Angela said, we know Whittaker. He’s a fine man. We need to find him pronto.”

  Channing nodded. “Right. Yes, thank you. We cleared the house and the yard. No one’s here.”

  “We’re going to need a crime scene unit,” Jackson said.

  “I’ll see to Debbie,” Angela said again. “If you’ll excuse me. Oh, and, Officer Channing? Thank you.”

  He nodded, his eyes a little damp with misery. But she knew that he appreciated her words. Jackson nodded to her, too. They both knew the importance of everyone believing in the humanity of any situation.

  They had to find Whittaker. That was their priority right now. He was one of theirs.

  Angela went into the house.

  Debbie Nolan kept a neat and pleasant home. The living room in her little townhouse had soft beige walls, an entertainment center, and a comfortable seating area with a sofa and several upholstered chairs that faced the television. Angela could imagine Owen Whittaker relaxed on the couch, watching a beloved game in comfort, close to the woman he had been sent to guard.

  She walked through a large archway to the dining room and from there to the kitchen, where again, everything was nicely kept in middle-class comfort, tidiness, and appeal. Debbie was nowhere to be found—and neither was the second police officer.

  “Debbie?”

  A stairway led to two bedrooms on either side of the small landing. Debbie was seated on the bed, her head in her hands. The officer leaned against a bureau, looking exhausted.

  He stood straight when he saw Angela and indicated to Debbie where she sat on the bed, sunk low in despair.

  Angela nodded to the officer, and he fled the room as quickly as he could.

  Angela sat by the woman and put an arm around her shoulders. Debbie looked up with tear-stained eyes. “They got him! I don’t know how, but they got him. I was just up here... doing laundry, you know. I liked him so much. He was so nice. He didn’t mind that I was scared and wanted him in the house. He was happy, watching the game, but he wasn’t stupid or careless.”

  She sniffed. “I don’t know who or how but when I didn’t see him, couldn’t find him, I was terrified and called you. I heard sirens almost immediately. I was so afraid someone was still here, but they must have gotten scared away and... oh, God. Dear God. I’m so scared. And I’m so scared for Officer Whittaker.”

  “Of course, Debbie. But we’re here now, and the local officers came right away.”

  “It’s all my fault.”

  “Debbie, someone doing criminal things is not your fault,” Angela said firmly.

  “But I asked him to come in. I had him sit down and watch TV. Maybe if I hadn’t done that, he’d still be outside.”

  “That might not have changed anything.”

  “But whoever took him was in the house!” she cried.

  “And they might have seen him outside. You can’t torture yourself over this. None of it is your fault. There is an investigation because of you, and it will bring us to the truth—and maybe save a lot of people.”

  “I should have let them.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I should have left him alone in the car and let whoever is doing this get to me. I assume I’m the one they want. That’s just it. Maybe it would have been better if they’d gotten me. Officer Whittaker is married and has a five-year-old and a three-year-old.”

  “We will find him.”

  “Dead!” she cried again.

  “No. If they wanted him dead, I believe they would have killed him right here and then gone for you. They’re holding him. And we must find him. We know whoever is doing all this knows who you are. I’m still not sure how, but they came to this house, and they kidnapped Officer Whittaker. We need to get you to a safe house. One that can’t be breached easily. One that can’t be breached at all if possible. And don’t worry. We’ll have a team of agents with you. All right?”

  “I just... wow. My job. I’ll probably lose my job—”

  “Better than losing your life. Don’t worry. Our acting director, Adam Harrison, will speak with your employer. Pack up a few things. We need to start looking for Officer Whittaker. Pack your laptop, chargers, clothing—anything you’ll need. No food. Our safe house is fully stocked. And we can also get you anything else you may need later. For right now, I only need you to hurry.”

  “Yes. Yes, of course!” Debbie stood, reached into her closet, and grabbed an overnight bag. She quickly began throwing articles of clothing, a few power cords, and her computer into it. Angela asked if she could help—she imagined that Debbie was usually the type to fold each garment carefully—but Debbie shook her head and promised she needed no more than a minute or two.

  She was true to her word and was quickly ready.

  When they reached the front of the house, Angela saw that Jackson was already moving on the search for Officer Whittaker.

  Mark was there with Colleen. Ragnar, who had been partnered with Mark before Colleen came into the Krewe, was also there, along with Mark’s dog, Red.

  Red was amazing. He’d once served as a police dog, trained in bombs, drugs, cadavers, and missing persons. He’d also been certified as a service dog and could accompany Mark and Colleen on any endeavor. Jackson had apparently called in the group, asking for them to bring Red. The pup might well be their best chance at finding Officer Whittaker.

  “Debbie, sorry. Wait for me for just a minute, and then we’ll get a couple of agents to get you to the safe house.”

  “Please, Angela. Please. I know you have to work, but I will feel so much better if I can just get there with you. I mean, is anything or anywhere really safe?”

  “Trust me, we were seriously worried about the safety of one of our people and had them at this safe house. It’s state of the art, walled, gated, alarmed to the nines. It’s safe. Please, just give me a minute.”

  She left Debbie waiting on the doorstep and hurried to join Jackson and the others on the sidewalk in front of the house.

  She greeted Red first. They considered it important for the Krewe agents to recognize their canine assistants. Dogs didn’t work for money. They worked for treats sometimes, but affection and approval were what they seemed to crave the most. Angela greeted the others with a nod, and Mark brought them all up to speed.

  “There was a car parked just to the east of Debbie’s townhouse here. Red followed the scent to that position. Someone put Officer Whittaker in a car, and then drove away.”

  “All right, we need to get a group of officers and agents moving down the block. See who might have surveillance cameras that can capture images out into the street,” Jackson said. “And we’ll need to get traffic cam footage from all the surrounding areas. Patrick is at headquarters.”

  “Before we got your call, Jackson, I brought in our article author, Jefferson Moore,” Mark told them. “Megan came in to watch and listen with Patrick, and she’s doing her best to keep him entertained now. Kat called, too. They have an ID on the Jane Doe found in the Robertson tomb. Mercy Cartwright. She was reported missing by her roommate approximately two months ago. Kat was able to secure dental records.”

  “She didn’t happen to work for Robertson Technologies, did she?” Angela asked.

  “No, she was a flight attendant,” Colleen told her.

  “So, no connection to the Robertson family. What about our first victim? Any connection to Arnold Kern, apparently the last corpse to join the recently murdered in the tomb?” Angela asked.

  “None that we know of, but we’re pulling phone records,” Ragnar said.

  “Okay, Colleen and Mark, will the two of you get Debbie Nolan to the safe house? You’ve been actively working this, and I’ll get other agents on it. But for now—” Jackson began.

  “I need to go with them to get her settled,” Angela said. “But once we’re good there, I’d like to get back to headquarters. I want to speak with the writer who did the article. He went to the last funeral, interviewed Benjamin Robertson, and wants to interview him again. If he isn’t involved with this in any way, he may still know more than we do.”

  “I’ll ask the cops helping me canvas the neighborhood. They can see if any of the neighbors saw anything or if they have cameras that might be helpful,” Ragnar said and then nodded to Mark and Colleen.

  “I’ve already called in for any traffic cam footage from the area,” Jackson said. “It’ll be at headquarters ASAP. Patrick can start reviewing it.” He nodded brusquely. “All right, let’s move.”

  Angela headed back to the front step of the house and smiled at Debbie, who still appeared nervous and anxious.

  “Ready to go?” she asked.

  “I’ve been ready,” Debbie said. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just so upsetting.”

  “It’s okay. It’s understandable,” Angela assured her. “Come on. We’ll drive with Special Agents Mark and Colleen Gallagher. Oh, and Red.”

  “Red?” Debbie asked.

  “He’s a dog.” Angela smiled. “He works with us.”

  “A dog as an agent?”

  Angela nodded. “One of the best we have. I’m going to the safe house with you, but Mark and Colleen will stay until our next agents come on.”

  “You’re leaving me?”

  “I have to, Debbie. I’m sorry.”

  “I... I... I mean, I should just be grateful. I am grateful. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re fine. It’s all right. Come on.”

  Mark was in the driver’s seat, Colleen next to him with Red on her lap, despite his size.

  “Hey, Debbie,” Colleen said. “I didn’t know how you felt about dogs, so...”

  “I, uh, I don’t have one, but I like them,” Debbie said, crawling into the back. Angela moved in beside her.

  “Red can come back here,” Angela said. “We have more room.”

  “Yeah, it’s okay. We’ll get to the safe house. I’m fine,” Debbie assured them and started petting Red as soon as he settled between their seats.

  Mark pulled out onto the street. As they drove, Colleen talked about Red, trying to make the drive easy for Debbie and perhaps make the woman feel more comfortable with her and Mark. She explained his work, said that she’d had him registered and that he had now been used in almost every kind of situation imaginable as a law enforcement animal, as well.

  Angela smiled as she listened. She and Jackson had dogs, too. Though they only told others about one of them: their living dog.

  But they also had a ghost dog.

  Both canines had adopted them, and then they had officially adopted the dogs.

  If anyone snooped around their house, they had alarms, of course, but no creature or piece of equipment could be as ferocious and loyal as the dogs.

  They arrived at the safe house. It was an impressive place.

  Mark keyed in the combination at the gate and set his print on the mechanism, as well. That was something they had added recently. Debbie surveyed the wall, the gate, and the drive.

  “Cameras are everywhere,” Angela pointed out. “No one comes or goes from here without the pictures showing in our tech department. We have someone on at headquarters twenty-four-seven. Trust me, please. It’s not just a safe house, it’s extremely safe.”

  “I... yes. It looks great,” Debbie said. “I wish...”

  “Yes?”

  “I wish I’d realized I’d been seen. That whoever it was had figured out who I was. I wish we’d come straight here. If we had, then Officer Whittaker would be...”

  “Debbie, we all wish that right now,” Angela assured her. “We will find him, trust me. We’re good at what we do. And part of what we do is looking after people like you, who might be in danger. So, please know that none of this is your fault.”

  Debbie nodded.

  Mark parked the car in the semicircular drive. “We’re here,” he said cheerfully. “And it’s a great place, I promise.”

  “We had my sister stay here when she was in danger and involved with a case,” Colleen said. “Megan isn’t a Krewe member, she’s an editor. But she... well, anyway, I think you met another of our team members, Ragnar Johansen? She’s married to him now. Anyway, she, uh...”

  Colleen paused awkwardly, and Angela hid a smile. She didn’t want to explain that her sister saw and spoke to the dead—and had her special talent of what they called reading between the lines.

  “She’s just great, and we all love her,” Angela said quickly. “So, let’s show you the house.”

  Again, Mark keyed in the code and used his fingerprint to open the front door.

  And then they were in.

  Angela knew the house well, but Mark and Colleen would be staying. She decided they should do the tour of the place.

  Mark pointed out that every window was attached to the alarm system, as were both doors. They told Debbie that she was welcome to check out the upstairs and choose a bedroom after they’d shown her the kitchen.

  Red ran around, wagging his tail as he approved of their location and assured himself that no one was there.

  Seeing that everything was going well, Angela knew that she should get moving. Debbie still looked stricken, but behind her, Colleen grimaced at Angela and mouthed, “We’ll be fine.”