Read Gone Missing (Kate Burkholder 4) for Free Online Page A

on the phone. I’ve spoken once with Sheriff Rasmussen, once with Auggie—who apologized for his “inappropriate” comments earlier—and I’ve had four decidedly unpleasant conversations with Kathleen McClanahan. Mona was right: The woman curses with the speed of an auctioneer hawking wares at an estate sale. McClanahan ended the call by threatening to sue me for “roughing up” her little girl and then hanging up on me.
    I catch Tomasetti’s call on the third ring. “I’m almost there,” I say by way of greeting.
    “We’ve got another one,” he says. “Fifteen-year-old female. Happened last night. Local law enforcement called ten minutes ago.”
    “Where?”
    “Buck Creek, a small town about an hour northeast of here.”
    “She’s Amish?”
    “Family searched for her all night.”
    “And they’re just now contacting the police, because they thought they could handle it themselves.” My voice is bone-dry.
    “See? I knew you’d be a benefit to the case.”
    “Who’s the vic?”
    Paper rattles on the other end of the line, and I know he’s paging through the file. “Annie King. Parents sent her to a vegetable stand and she never made it home.”
    He pauses and I sense he’s champing at the bit and ready to go—and I’m holding up the show. The first forty-eight hours are the most crucial in terms of solving any case, but that’s particularly true when dealing with a missing child. Two of the kidnappings are cold. This one is fresh; we’re still within that golden period.
    “I’ve got everyone rounded up here,” he tells me. “We’re just going to bring you in. Do the introductions. HR will have a couple of forms for you. Then we’re on our way.”
    “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
    “I’ll meet you at the door.”
    It’s just after noon when I turn onto Highlander Parkway. I’m not nervous, but an edginess creeps steadily over me as I draw closer to the BCI field office. Like Tomasetti, I’m keenly aware of the ticking clock and anxious to get started. I want to visit the scene and speak to the missing girl’s family. I want to find the girl before something terrible happens—if it hasn’t already.
    I remind myself that I’m only going to be consulting, and I can’t help but wonder what kind of parameters I’ll be working within. I’m hands-on when it comes to my job. How difficult will it be to ride this out in the backseat?
    To complicate matters, there’s also the issue of my relationship with Tomasetti. We’re walking a fine line, working together on a case while we’re personally involved. Nobody knows, and for now we would be wise to keep it that way. I’m confident neither of us will let private feelings affect the case. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to spending some time with him.
    I park in the visitor section of the lot, grab my overnight bag, and head toward the double glass doors at the front of the building. The uniformed security officer behind a glossy walnut desk stands as I approach.
    “Can I help you?”
    She’s a trim African-American woman wearing a navy jacket, a chrome badge clipped to her belt, and a name tag that tells me her name is Gabrielle. “I’m Kate Burkholder. I have an appointment to see John Tomasetti with BCI.”
    “He’s called twice. Hold on.” She’s in the process of dialing when I hear my name. I turn, to see Tomasetti treading toward me with long, purposeful strides. Plea sure unfurls in my stomach at the sight of his tall frame. As usual, he’s well dressed in a crisp blue shirt with a gray-and-burgundy tie and nicely cut charcoal slacks.
    I can’t help it; I smile. “Agent Tomasetti.”
    His expression softens. “Chief Burkholder.” He glances at the security officer. “Thanks, Gabby.”
    She waves him off, but not before I see something in her eyes, and I realize I’m not the only one who likes my men dark and brooding and just a little bit on the shady side.
    “How was the drive?”