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six months ago.”
    That still didn’t provide the emotional distance needed to be objective in a case like this.
    Jess wanted to go right now—or as soon as Burnett finished talking to the Dentons—and rant at him for leaving out that little detail.
    But she wouldn’t. If she were completely honest with herself, she would probably do the same thing if someone she cared about was missing. But, damn it, this was exactly the kind of seemingly insignificant information she needed from these people.
    How could men with the experience under their belts that Patterson, Griggs and Burnett had not see that omission was precisely the problem with this case? The small town mentality. No matter that Birmingham had grown to be one of the largest cities in the south; the small town mindset of everyone knows everyone else lingered. The truth, however, was that no one ever really knew anyone’s deepest, darkest secrets. Not even after two or more years of marriage.
    This she had experienced firsthand.
    “Is there something between you and the chief?”
    Jess hauled her attention to the younger woman and lifted an eyebrow as much in a show of skepticism as in surprise at her boldness.
    “I shouldn’t have asked.” Wells held up both hands, palms out, and waved them side to side as if she could erase the question. The tell-tale display of embarrassment colored her high cheek bones.
    Jess could lie but she suspected Wells would see right through her. “Yes, detective, there is something between us. We’ve known each other our whole lives, went to school together, and all that. What’s your point?”
    Sergeant Harper appeared behind Wells. He flashed Jess a smile. “Excuse me, Agent Harris, but I need a moment of Detective Wells’ time.”
    Harper was the second detective from BPD on the task force. In terms of time on the force and grade he had seniority over Wells. His personnel jacket was loaded with high praise. He was also tall, dark, handsome, and charming. The faint Hispanic accent lent an exotic flair to his voice. Exactly the man one would want questioning college age girls. Precisely the reasons—beyond his skill as an investigator, she suspected—he had been handpicked for this task force. 
    “Of course, sergeant.” Jess was ready for a moment alone without distraction and interference now that she had the most relevant faces committed to memory. Plus, Harper’s intrusion prevented Wells from pursuing her line of questioning.
    “I’ll be right back, Agent Har…ris.” Wells winced.
    Jess waved her off. She’d made a mess of her first time in the field with the detective. When the two, Wells and Harper, had huddled by the row of refreshment tables, Jess’s attention settled on Dan and the Dentons. The woman certainly didn’t mind hugging her ex in front of her other ex-now-husband. But then, the circumstances were incredibly painful. Jess couldn’t imagine the agony a parent suffered when a child was lost. There had been a time when she’d considered having a child. She blanked the memory. Not now. Not ever.
    Deep breath . She was here for reasons that didn’t include Dan Burnett’s personal life or her own. Surveying the crowd, she decided the time was right to approach Reanne Parsons’ mother. The poor woman lingered near the punch bowl, a cup in her hand. She looked lost, forlorn. Unlike the other parents, she appeared to avoid the friends of her missing daughter who had gathered to show their support.
    Jess considered dragging Wells with her since Parsons might feel more comfortable with a familiar face. But the two detectives had inched closer, the smiles exchanged obviously unrelated to police business.
    “I guess I’m not the only one with a secret or two,” Jess muttered. She downed the punch in her cup and headed for a refill. There was more than one way to skin a cat. She cringed. Damn it. There was more than one strategy for any maneuver .
    Loraine Parsons stared blankly at the mass of