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“Assistant Director,” Parsons told me, explaining what AD meant.
“What do you have that can help us find her?” Adam asked.
“Nothing at all,” Parsons answered. “Kidnapped at five years old. At the time it was presumed to be a single kidnapper who died after the ransom pickup. When no further communications came, the child was assumed deceased. Until now.”
Boxer looked at me. “And no communications with the family since then?”
I shook my head. “Not a one.”
Adam shut down the video. “Thank you for your time, then.”
I couldn’t believe that was it. There had to be more. “I’d like updates as you get more.”
He scoffed. “I’ll let you know when we catch her.”
“She’s my cousin, and a victim here,” I complained.
He scowled. “She’s a suspect. The victim is the lady in the hospital who took a bullet.”
Parsons interceded. “She’s both. The kidnapping is still open, and she’s the victim in that. You can send me the updates, and I’ll pass them along.”
“Sure.” Adam sighed.
“And,” I added, “I’d like a hard copy of the frame where we see her face.”
Parsons beat Adam to it. “Not a problem. I’m sure the family would like to see what she looks like after all these years.”
Boxer frowned—even he thought Adam was being an ass.
Fifteen minutes later, Parsons, Newsom, and I were outside on the sidewalk.
Parsons stopped not far from the door. “Time to go home and wait. At least you got a picture.”
“That’s all? We don’t get more? What about witnesses? They might be able to tell us something.”
Newsom answered for her. “He got to the AD and got the lead assigned to him, so that’s it. And, I heard he was a…”
Parson’s scowl stopped him mid-sentence. “It doesn’t matter.”
I couldn’t live with that. “What do you mean it doesn’t matter?”
“Because they have the boots on the ground here. They get the credit if they find her, and the shit if they don’t. All of that means…” She stopped while another local agent walked by. “That means they’ll work hard on it, which is what we want. Boxer and Cartwright will work the team hard to find her, trace the car, track down sightings. Those arehisleads right now. If he gets told to report to us, he’ll drag his feet, resources will go to other cases, and we won’t get anywhere.”
She was short on height, but not on savvy. Her analysis was solid.
“Anyway,” Newsom said. “You can call your friend Cartwright, and maybe he can give you a little insight.”
I shook my head. I wasn’t going into particulars. “He’s not my friend. If I show up missing, he’s the first one you should question.”
Parsons chuckled. “Then it’s a good thing you’re not sticking around to annoy them.” She cocked an eyebrow the way my sister did when she had a zinger. “And they missed the most important part.”
Newsom asked the question for me. “What?”
She smiled. “When was the last time you spit on a marble floor inside?”
“Never,” I answered.
Parsons nodded. “Exactly. She didn’t have a mask, she looked straight into the camera, and then she spit on the floor after the guy turned his back. She wanted to be ID’d. Smart girl. This is still a kidnapping investigation.”
