The Missing Read online

  I arrive at the Bureau’s headquarters in the J Edgar Hoover Building on Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington DC and make my way to our fourth floor offices. My unit’s part of the Criminal Investigative Support Area of the Bureau and the profilers have been divided into two teams — Behavioral Analysis Unit 1 (counter-terrorism and threat assessment) and Behavioral Analysis Unit 2 (crimes against adults). I’m in Unit 2 and profile mostly serial killers, serial rapists and other violent or potentially violent crimes. Despite the intensity, I love my job, love knowing that I’m making a difference and saving lives.

  As my computer fires up I flick through the files on my desk, all waiting to be profiled. Top of my list today is a serial rapist in New York, but he ‘graduated’ from rapist to murderer with his last victim. Was it a one-off or does it signal the birth of a serial killer? My profile will answer that question for the NYPD.

  Profiling is about putting yourself in both the victims’ and the perpetrator’s shoes, recreating the interaction and the crime. It pulls together gut instinct and psychology, drawing on what we know about criminal behaviour. When drafting a profile, there are five major inputs — the crime scene, the victimology, forensic info, the police reports and the photos. I go over and over these five things until my mind is wading in them, until all I can think about is the victims and the perpetrator. I concentrate more on the last victim, the murder victim. I look at one of the photos taken at the crime scene. She’s naked, her eyes are closed and her hair’s splayed out on the carpet, almost as if it had been arranged. Soon I’ll have a good picture of the bastard who did this to her. Then hopefully he’ll be locked away — with any luck, for good.

  Four hours later I come to, gradually pulling myself out of the killer’s shoes. I’ve made nearly ten pages of notes and I have a true sense of the killer. He will kill again. I’m not sure how much of my profiling draws on my newly discovered psychic abilities and how much is just good old-fashioned psychology. But as long as the perp gets caught, who cares. I’m about to start typing up my notes when my phone rings. I look at the extension – it’s Andy Rivers, my boss. I better pick up.

  “Hello.”

  “Anderson, it’s Rivers. I’ve got a kidnapping I want you to work on. I’ll brief you in my office…now.” He hangs up before I have a chance to say anything. A kidnapping? We generally profile much more serious crimes, so why has Rivers landed this case? I shake my head and stand up, looking at the files waiting for my attention. Rivers must have it in for me.

  I make my way through the corridors and within less than a minute I’m at Rivers’ office.

  Janet, his assistant, sits out front, typing furiously. She looks up. “Go straight in, Sophie.”

  I open the office door and am surprised to see Senator Robert Keen standing, no pacing, in Rivers’ office. What the hell’s going on? Keen’s in the middle of his presidential campaign – TV ads, newspaper articles, chat shows…you can’t escape it. Next to Senator Keen is a young man, presumably the senator’s aide, and in the chairs opposite Rivers sit Detective Sandra Couples from DC’s Missing Persons and Pike, the head of Criminal Investigative Support. I’m intrigued, that’s for sure.

  Rivers stands up. “Senator Keen, I’d like to introduce you to Special Agent Sophie Anderson.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I extend my hand, somewhat hesitantly.

  Keen takes my hand and pumps, but the characteristic politician charm and smile are not present.

  My mind is racing with the possibilities. The senator’s wife? One of his sons? Could it be the girl from my dream? No, the senator’s got two sons, no daughters.

  Pike stands up. “Anderson, what we’re about to tell you is confidential.”

  I nod, but feel that this isn’t quite enough. Then again, ‘Brownie’s Honor’ wouldn’t cut it either. “Of course. You can count on me,” I say, hoping this resembles the correct response.

  Pike nods. “Senator Keen’s daughter was kidnapped yesterday afternoon. We’d like you to be involved in the team that’s looking after the case.”

  Daughter? Now I’m confused. “I didn’t know you had a daughter, sir.” I can clearly picture the Keen family snaps on TV – a wife and two sons, twins.

  “No.” He puts his head down. “She’s…” he pauses, “…different. Public situations, the media, it’s too hard for her.”

  “How is she different?” I use the same word he chose, unsure exactly what it means.

  He’s silent for a couple of seconds. “She has Aicardi Syndrome.”

  I look at him blankly.

  It’s obvious that this is a tricky subject for Keen. “It’s a genetic disorder.”

  I nod, still none the wiser.

  He sighs. “She’s slow!”

  His tone of voice shows his tension, but I’m not sure if it’s concern for his daughter or if he has difficulty accepting her condition. Perhaps they keep her out of the spotlight for his good, not her wellbeing.

  He pulls up the cuff of his designer suit and glances at his watch. “I’ve got to get back to my family.”

  The aide immediately walks to the door, ready to open it for the senator’s exit.

  Senator Keen looks back at me. “Find her and keep it quiet.”

  He exits, leaving me stunned. Why the hell’s it up to me? But I can imagine the train of events that led him into Rivers’ office and to me. The police would have been all over this case, but Keen probably wanted more. He would have pulled strings and I’m simply the latest body to be thrown at the problem. The more the merrier, right? I shake my head – nice to have money and power.

  I look at Couples. “So, what have we got?”

  Rivers cuts in. “Anderson, you head off with Detective Couples. She can brief you on the way.”

  I nod.

  Couples bends down for her bag and her neat, grey-streaked bob falls forward onto her face. She’s the best in Missing Persons, an experienced cop with lots of cases under her belt. She was also part of the task force that worked the DC Slasher case.

  I’m walking out the door when Rivers calls me. “Anderson.”

  “Yes?”

  “Make us look good, won’t you.”

  I manage a small laugh. “I’ll do my best.”

  Couples and I walk to the elevator and she recites the facts of the case. “Macy Keen was taken from her school yesterday afternoon at 3.45 pm, right on break-up time. She was last seen getting into a black BMW X5 with tinted windows.”

  “That’s the SUV one?” I ask.

  “Yeah, that’s the one. It’s what Mrs Keen drives. In fact, whoever was driving waved to Joan Fine, the teacher out front that day, and Fine assumed it was Keen or her assistant.”

  Nothing unusual so far. Kidnappers usually grab their targets by force or more covertly by tricking the victim, as they did in this instance. “Have you got a photo of Macy?” I’m eager to find out if Macy was the subject of one of this week’s dreams. Then again, perhaps I’m going crazy. At this stage either seems possible.

  Couples pulls out a file from the outside flap of her briefcase. “Knock yourself out.”

  I immediately pull out the first photo. Bingo. It’s my girl. The girl from last night’s dream. She looks like a normal adolescent girl. “Do you know much about this genetic thing?”

  Couples nods. “It’s in the file. The syndrome is characterized by seizures and developmental delays. Very, very rare, carried on X chromosomes, so it affects only girls.”

  No wonder her fear felt so overwhelming. Macy must be very confused. We reach the elevator and press the down button.

  Couples continues, “Mrs Keen arrived at the school about 3.55 pm. That’s when the alarm was raised and we were called in. We set up at the Keen’s, expecting a call. Sure enough, two hours later the kidnapper rang, demanding half a million in unmarked bills.”

  “Half a mill? That’s not much.” The elevator finally arrives.

  “No. Particularly when the operation was so smooth, so pr
ofessional.” Couples looks at the elevator buttons and presses level two, the underground car park.

  I think about the kidnappers. “It’s interesting in terms of the profile. If the doers aren’t motivated by money, what are they motivated by?”

  “Maybe it’s a one-man show. Or a young kid. Half a million seems like a lot if you’re eighteen.”

  The elevator doors open and Couples leads me to her car.

  “True. Any forensics?”

  “Nope.” Couples points her keys at a silver Buick. The indicators on the Buick flash once and the car beeps. “We canvassed around the school. Nothing on the BMW.”

  We both get in the Buick.

  “What about the drop?”

  “Kidnappers said they’d call back later today.”

  *****

  The gate opens, creating a gap in the six foot high, brick fence and giving me a glimpse of the house. It’s a huge redbrick, with perfectly manicured gardens landscaped around a swimming pool and a tennis court – he is a presidential candidate, after all.

  Couples pulls up near the front door, alongside several other cars.

  “What’s the family like?” I ask before we get out of the car.

  She shrugs. “Rich, political family.”

  Couples has been living in DC a long time, but I’ve been here less than a year and I’m still acclimatizing to the special kind of political species that DC attracts.

  Couples elaborates for me. “She plays tennis, attends lots of official functions, and runs her own charity. He’s a workaholic and has been climbing the political ladder for years, decades. The two sons are typical rich teenagers. They go to Blue Ridge.”

  Obviously that name means something in the right circles. I look at her blankly.

  “Fancy boarding prep school south of here. Very well known. Anyways, the boys are handsome, athletic, good at school. The perfect politician’s sons.” She pauses. “Until one of them gets caught snorting coke in a couple of years.”

  I laugh. “As you do when daddy’s rich and famous.”

  We both get out of the car.

  “What about Macy?” I ask quietly.

  “She attends a specialist school not too far from here.” Couples moves in and lowers her voice. “I get the impression daddy would have happily shipped her off too, but his wife is very protective.”

  Couples rings the doorbell and within a minute we’re inside, being shown to a large room that’s become Kidnap Central. Couples introduces me to three officers from DC Missing Persons and two FBI agents from the field office. They’re all new faces to me but it’s the family, the victim and then ultimately the kidnapper who I need to focus on.

  “Let’s meet the family.” I’m eager to get moving, to find out as much as I can before the call comes through.

  Couples takes me into another room. In this room sit the two boys and their mother. Obviously we beat Senator Keen back home. The room is silent.

  We move across to Mrs Keen. “This is Special Agent Sophie Anderson, she’s joined our team as a profiler.”

  Mrs Keen is a glamorous woman in her mid-forties. Even sitting around at home, grief-stricken, she has taken care with her clothes, makeup and hair. She wears a pair of tailored, pin-striped pants and a matching blue-grey skivvy. Her manicured hands are covered in diamonds, and she also wears a stunning emerald and diamond pendant with a matching necklace and earrings. I guess a woman in her position always has to look good. Her two sons sit on either side of her, both solemn and quiet.

  She stands up and shakes my hand. “Thank you so much for helping us find my Macy.”

  “I’ll do the best I can.”

  She motions to an empty lounge suite and Couples and I take a seat. As I sit, I’m hit by an image of Macy and her mother. Macy’s younger, perhaps ten, and they’re on the beach somewhere. It’s a happy image – the kind of vision I wish I saw more of. I think of last night’s dream. Was the slap just the start of violence toward Macy? Is she even still alive? I really need to control this gift of mine so I can start answering some of these questions. Otherwise it’s useless.

  I look around the room, which has many family pictures. I notice that in all the posed, professional photographs Macy is absent. It’s only the more causal family snaps that feature the entire family. She’s the invisible child.

  I bring my attention back to Mrs Keen. “I’m going build a profile, a picture of the kidnappers. Hopefully it will help us find them, but it will also help during our interaction with them.” I pause. “I need to start off by finding out as much as I can about Macy. The other detectives and agents have already gathered a lot of information about your movements, dealings, friends, families, enemies, etc., and I’m up to speed on that, but I want to focus on Macy.”

  Mrs Keen smiles widely. “Macy.” She sighs. “She’s a very kind, trusting girl.” She looks at me and tilts her head slightly. “You understand she has Aicardi? And what it is?”

  “Yes, Mrs Keen. I read about it on the way over here.”

  She smiles. “Not many people know about it. And it’s not really that bad. Her development is going very well.”

  Ed shifts his weight ever so slightly. Perhaps he disagrees with mummy dearest.

  “Ed, what do you think of your big sister?”

  He shrugs. “She’s okay. Don’t see her much. Us being at boarding school and all.”

  I study the twins. Half a million dollars would seem like a lot to them. Maybe they’re sick of big sis staying at home and getting mum’s attention when they’re shipped off to boarding school.

  “And what about you, Luke?”

  “She’s a good sister. She stays out of your way and she’s not always yapping on the phone or talking about shopping or boys. That would be a real pain.”

  I smile. “I bet.” I concentrate on Luke, who seems more forthcoming. “How do you think she’d be feeling at the moment?” I observe the boys’ body language, looking for any signs of stress. If one or both of them is responsible they may not have thought about the consequences, about their sister’s reaction.

  “She’d be scared. Real scared.”

  A pained expression crosses Mrs Keen’s face. “It’s true, she would be scared, but she’s tough, Macy.”

  One of Couples’ team enters the room quickly. He’s a little flustered. “Turn on the TV.”

  Luke grabs the remote from the coffee table in front of him and switches on the television. He flicks channels and soon enough is greeted by a reporter who’s broadcasting live from outside the Keen residence.

  Mrs Keen looks pensively out the window. “Robert will be so upset.”

  But I’m less worried about the senator and more worried about how the kidnappers will respond. “Was media silence one of their demands?” I ask.

  Couples sweeps her hair behind her ears. “No.”

  “Good.” Hopefully this won’t rattle them. Sometimes when the media gets involved it can cause perps to escalate, to become more violent.

  “Uh-oh.” Luke lets out a whistle. We all look at him, then follow his gaze to the television. Onscreen, Senator Keen’s car pulls up outside the gates and the reporter rushes toward the car, thrusting a microphone toward the darkened windows.

  “Dad will be pissed.” This time it’s Ed who speaks.

  A couple of minutes later Senator Keen joins us in the room.

  “What the hell was that all about?” He looks around the room wildly, looking for someone to blame for the leak.

  I make eye contact. “Who knows how they found out, Senator Keen. The important thing is that it doesn’t affect the outcome. For Macy.”

  “What do you mean?” Mrs Keen is worried.

  “I think the kidnappers could be quite young and I wouldn’t want the publicity to spook them.”

  “Spook them into what?” Senator Keen comes closer.

  I decide to be honest. “If they panic, the outlook is not as good for your daughter.”

  “What makes you t
hink the kidnapper’s young?” Mrs Keen asks.

  “The ransom is very small, given the Senator’s position.”

  “Maybe…” Senator Keen trails off.

  “Yes?” Senator Keen might know something that could help us.

  He takes a breath. “Maybe it’s because she’s different.”

  There’s that word again.

  He looks down at his feet. “Maybe they figured that’s all they could get because of Macy’s…condition.”

  I hide my shock, but Mrs Keen doesn’t. “Robert. How could you say that? About your own daughter!”

  He winces, cut by his wife’s words and her tone of voice. But the exchange is silenced when the phone rings. Couples ushers everyone into the makeshift project room, and races the portable phone to Senator Keen.

  “Don’t forget, ask for proof that she’s okay,” Couples says and then nods at him.

  He clicks the talk button. “Hello.”

  I slip on a pair of headphones just in time to hear the kidnapper’s voice.

  “Senator Keen,” says a digitized voice, “listen carefully. Bring the ransom money to West Potomac Park.”

  I wince – the last time I was in Potomac was for one of the DC Slasher’s victims.

  “Leave the half a million dollars underneath the bench at the west end of the Reflecting Pool. No tricks. Leave it at six tonight and your daughter will be returned to you safely. Come alone. Any cops or FBI and the deal’s off.”

  “But how do I know—”

  The line goes dead.

  “Damn!” Couples looks at the tech guy in her team. “Anything?”

  He shakes his head. “He wasn’t on for long enough. But I’ll see if I can clean the recording up. Find something there.” He starts tapping away on the laptop’s keys.

  Couples turns to me. “What do you think?”

  “Hard to get much of an idea about his state of mind, but he didn’t sound rattled.”