He waited for me to say something else, but I stayed silent. Everything you said or did was a data point you put out there in the world, and I didnt want to give this man any more information than I had tonot until I knew what he wanted from me.
Im sure you must be wondering why I contacted youwhy I had Michael contact you.
Michael . So now the boy from the diner had a name.
I have an offer Id like you to consider.
An offer? It amazed me that my voice stayed every bit as calm and even as his.
I believe this is a conversation best had in person, Ms. Hobbes. Is there somewhere you would be comfortable meeting?
He knew what he was doingletting me pick the location, because if hed specified one, I might not have gone. I probably should have refused to meet with him anyway, but I couldnt, for the same reason that Id had to pick up the phone and call.
Five years was a long time to go without a body. Without answers.
Do you have an office? I asked.
The slight pause on the other end of the phone told me that wasnt what hed expected me to say. I could have asked him to meet me at the diner or a coffee shop near the high school or anywhere that I would have had the home court advantage, but Id been taught to believe that there was no home court advantage.
You could tell more about a stranger by seeing their house than you ever would by inviting them to yours.
Besides, if this guy wasnt really an FBI agent, if he was some kind of pervert and this was some kind of game, I figured hed probably have a heck of a time arranging a meeting at the local FBI office.
I dont actually work out of Denver, he said finally. But Im sure I can set something up.
Probably not a pervert, then.
He gave me an address. I gave him a time.
And Cassandra?
I wondered what Agent Briggs hoped to accomplish by using my full first name. Yes?
This isnt about your mother.
I wanted to know why Special Agent Tanner Briggs had made it his business to know about me, the same way a man shopping for a new computer might have memorized the specs of the model that had caught his eye.
What floor? The woman beside me in the elevator was in her early sixties. Her silvery blond hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail at the nape of her neck, and the suit she was wearing was perfectly tailored.
All business, just like Special Agent Tanner Briggs.
Fifth floor, I said. Please.
With nervous energy to burn, I snuck another glance at the woman and started piecing my way through her life story, as told by the way she was standing, her clothes, the faint accent in her speech, the clear coat of polish on her nails.
She was married.
No kids.
When shed started in the FBI, it had been a boys club.
Behavior. Personality. Environment . I could practically hear my mother coaching me through this impromptu analysis.
Fifth floor. The womans words were brisk, and I added another entry to my mental column impatient .
Obligingly, I stepped out of the elevator. The door closed behind me, and I appraised my surroundings. It looked so normal . If it hadnt been for the security checkpoint out front and the visitors badge pinned to my faded black sundress, I never would have pegged this for a place devoted to fighting federal crime.
So, what? You were expecting a dog-and-pony show?
I recognized the voice instantly. The boy from the diner. Michael . He sounded amused, and when I turned to face him, there was a familiar smirk dancing its way through his features, one that he probably could have suppressed if hed had the least inclination to try.
I wasnt expecting anything, I told him. I have no expectations.
He gave me a knowing look. No expectations, no disappointments.
I couldnt tell if that was his appraisal of my current mental state or the motto by which he lived his own life. In fact, I was having trouble getting any handle on his personality at all. Hed traded his striped polo for a formfitting black T-shirt and his jeans for khaki slacks. He looked as out of place here as he had at the diner, like maybe that was the point.
You know, he said conversationally, I knew youd come.
I raised an eyebrow at him. Even though you told me not to?
He shrugged. My inner Boy Scout had to try.
If this guy had an inner Boy Scout, I had an inner flamingo.
So, are you here to take me to Special Agent Tanner Briggs? I asked. The words came out curtly, but at least I didnt sound fascinated, infatuated, or even the least bit drawn to the sound of his voice.
Hmmmmm. In response to my question, Michael made a noncommittal noise under his breath and inclined his headas close to a yes as I was going to get. He led me around the bull pen and down a hallway. Neutral carpet, neutral walls, a neutral expression on his criminally handsome face.
So what does Briggs have on you? Michael asked. I could feel him watching me, looking for a surge of emotionany emotionto tell him if his question had hit a nerve.
It hadnt.
You want me to be nervous about this, I told him, because that much was clear from his words. And you told me not to come.