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certain of an Irish heritage, but everyone seemed to comment on it, so she supposed there might be something to it.
    “We can go with all of the above.” Mallory smiled with some warmth for the first time since she'd sat down. “I can understand wanting to raise your daughter in a different environment. But why Conroy?”
    “Truthfully, when I looked it up on the computer, using Magellan Express, of course”—Mallory laughed—“I saw a town that looked like a place I wish I'd grown up in. I couldn't fill the application out fast enough. And once I did, once I'd hit send, I just felt as if … I don't know, I don't want to soundsilly, but I just felt as if this was where we were meant to be.”
    “I see.” Mallory played with her pen. “Since you watched the press conference and you went to the website, I'm assuming you read more than the application?”
    Emme nodded.
    “Then you know that we're going to be taking on some pretty complicated cases, cases that have grown cold because the investigating departments weren't able to solve them. So we're talking about the tough cases, the ones where we will be looking for information that others have overlooked. We'll need instincts that are spot on—not every time, maybe, no one's right one hundred percent of the time, but you're going to have to have a strong track record. We'll need the best skills, the ability to think outside the box. For much of the time, you'll be working alone, because until we get up to snuff with hiring—and that isn't going to happen overnight—there won't be anyone to partner with you.”
    “I don't mind working alone.”
    Mallory patted a stack of fat files that towered on one side of her desk.
    “These are the submissions we've received in the past week, requests for help from over six hundred people. I expect that will increase as time goes on.” She picked up one folder and opened it in front of her. “Here's a case where a woman has been missing for nine years.”
    Mallory held up a second folder. “This next one, a young boy who went missing when he was seven.”
    Another. “This one? A father of five who left homeone morning for work and was never seen or heard from again.”
    Mallory met Emme's eyes across the desk. “These are the kinds of cases you'd be dealing with.”
    She slid a stack of files across the desk to Emme.
    “Pick one at random,” Mallory told her, “and tell me how you'd handle it.”
    Ninety minutes later, they were still discussing the case, Mallory making notes without comment. They were both so engrossed that neither looked up when the door opened and Susanna walked in.
    “Mal, I—Oh. Sorry.” Susanna paused in midstride. “I didn't realize you were still—”
    “It's okay, Suse, come in and meet Emme Caldwell.” Mallory looked up from her notes. “We're just doing some hypothetical case analysis.”
    Emme turned as the tall dark-haired woman came toward her.
    “Good to meet you,” Susanna said as Emme took her outstretched hand. “If I'm not mistaken, you're our first interviewee.”
    “She is.” Mallory nodded.
    “I apologize for interrupting, but there is the most incredible aroma wafting from the kitchen, and I had to follow my nose to see what Trula was up to,” Susanna explained. “I was thinking it might be a good time to take a break but I see you're still busy …”
    “Actually, I think we're done here.” Mallory pushed her chair back and rose. “Not because Trula is baking, mind you,” she made a point of telling Emme, “but because I think I have enough information for the time being.”
    “Are there any other questions about my experienceI might answer?” Emme asked, concerned by Mallory's sudden dismissal.
    “No, I think I have what I need. I have the entire personnel file from Silver Hill, and that has your transcripts and your performance reviews. Thanks for coming in. It was a pleasure to have met you.” Mallory walked around the desk to shake Emme's