FBI Operational Black Site, Foggy Bottom District; Washington DC

“For whatever it’s worth, Joey Bauer is clean,” Nina says. “Moved to Virginia from Jersey twenty years ago and opened up the Blue Velvet almost ten years ago. Pays his taxes, has no criminal record, and his club is apparently as clean as he is.”

“That’s surprising,” Astra says. “He’s a dollar-store Tony Soprano.”

“Maybe being from Jersey and all, he just likes the image,” Paige offers.

“Maybe,” I say.

“I can keep digging if you want,” Nina says.

“Maybe later. What can you tell us about the guy who was with Ashley that night?” I ask.

“I got a hit on facial rec, and his name is Archibald Richter,” Nina replies. “Fifty-five years old, married, has three grown children. He is a corporate lawyer by trade and currently works as a government relations director for Hempstead Petroleum.”

“Oh good, he’s a lobbyist,” Astra says with obvious distaste.

“You pronounced cockroach wrong,” I reply.

Lobbyists are no better than mob bagmen—the guys who deliver money for bribes and payoffs. My opinion is that they’re only marginally better than the trash we spend our days chasing. Sure, they don’t directly murder people, but in many cases, they support and push policies that have killed more people than every serial killer in the history of this country. Lobbying is legal bribery, and I will never understand why we tolerate it. But hey, that’s above my paygrade, so it’s probably best if I just stay in my lane.

“Okay, so, he’s a lobbyist and a philanderer, and he has a taste for young girls,” Astray says. “Could this guy be any more of a scumbag lowlife?”

“Do you really want an answer to that question?” I ask.

“No, probably not.”

Nina sits up, her expression alarmed. “Hey, we’ve got company—”

Before she can finish, we hear the electronic keypad on the door being activated. Nobody but us is supposed to have the whereabouts of this black site, let alone the code to the lock on the door. Jumping to my feet, I draw my weapon and take aim at the doorway to the main room as the front door opens. The rest of the team follows my lead, and when the man appears in the doorway, he’s greeted by three Glocks pointed at his face. He throws his hands up, looking startled.

“It’s me—it’s me. Don’t shoot,” he calls as he whips off his ball cap.

The breath explodes from my lungs as I lower my weapon, doing my best to suppress my irritation. “Jesus, Senator. What are you doing here?”

Paige and Nina quickly holster their weapons and stare at Senator Barlow. The man’s eyes are wide, and his face pales as he gapes at us, perhaps realizing just how close he just came to having several holes in him that don’t belong there. He swallows hard and quickly gathers himself.

“What are you doing here, Senator?” I repeat. “Nobody is supposed to have access to this site but my team. How did you—”

“Lauren told me where to find you. She gave me the code to get in.”

I have to fight to keep from rolling my eyes, my irritation rising inexorably to the surface. “This facility is anonymous for a reason, Senator. Drawing attention to it invites questions, and being a high-profile person, you may have just blown our cover. You wanted us to keep this out of the public eye. If reporters catch wind of you entering an anonymous house, how long do you think we’re going to be able to do that?”

“I wore a disguise. Nobody saw me—”

“Sir, you’ve been in this game long enough to know that one, a baseball cap is not an adequate disguise, and two, reporters aren’t stupid. They’re crafty, devious, and can be on your tail without you knowing. If somebody caught wind of you—”

“They didn’t.”

“You can’t know that for sure,” I snap. “Nina, monitor the exterior cameras to see if anybody’s lurking around out there. I don’t want any more surprises.”

“Copy that,” she says and turns to the security laptop to do as I ask.

I turn back to Barlow. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted—needed—to find out what’s going on. Your team back at my residence wouldn’t tell me anything,” he says, his voice edged with something akin to panic. “What have you found so far? And why haven’t the kidnappers called with a ransom demand or anything?”

“Senator, I know this has to be difficult for you, but—”

“Don’t placate me, Chief Wilder. Just don’t,” he growls. “This is my daughter, and I want to know what the hell is happening.”

As a man used to being in command and having others jump when he orders them to, he strides into the room, in full control of his faculties again, and drops into one of the chairs at the table. He drops the ball cap down in front of him and folds his arms over his chest, his obstinate posture telling us he’s not going anywhere until he gets some answers. I glance at Astra, and she gives me a subtle shake of the head, silently warning me to not tell him too much. If he knows what we’ve learned so far, he’s likely to blow a gasket.

On the other hand, though, he has a right to know what we’ve found. I mean, he’s right. Ashley is his daughter, and he should be read into what we’ve learned to this point. My biggest worry is that if we tell him, he’s going to do something rash. Something stupid. Or worse, that he’s going to be so emotional about it all that he’s going to do something that will adversely impact our investigation. But if Church sent him here with her blessing to get an update from us, I almost feel obliged to give it to him.

“Am I correct in assuming that if I don’t read you in, I’m going to be getting a call from DD Church ordering me to do so?” I ask.

“Probably,” he replies.

I run a hand through my hair and shake my head. “You are not going to like what we’ve found so far, Senator.”

“I’m a big boy, Chief. I can handle it.”

“With all due respect, I know you can handle pressure well enough. I’m sure it’s a requirement of your job,” I say. “But none of that matters when we’re talking about a loved one. Rationality, logic, and emotional control go right out the window.”

“As I said, I can handle myself, Chief.”

“I need you to give me your word that you will do nothing with the information I’m going to give you,” I tell him firmly. “I need your word that you will sit on it and do nothing.”

He hesitates for a moment but nods, his expression stony. “What you tell me will go no further than this room. You have my word.”

Astra, Paige, and I share expressions of concern, all of us having misgivings, but we all recognize that our hands are essentially tied. If we send him away now, it’s only delaying the inevitable. We’re going to end up having to brief him on everything, so it’s probably better to yank the bandage off now and just get it over with.

“Sir, did DD Church share the abduction video with you?” I ask.

He nods. “She did.”

“And did anything stand out to you? Did you recognize anything about the man who took your daughter? Or perhaps his van?”

He shakes his head. “No, there wasn’t anything that seemed familiar to me.”

“Okay. Well, I need you to understand that this is still unfolding, Senator, and we can’t know what it all means just yet. Some of it may end up meaning nothing at all. That’s the nature of an investigation. There are still a lot of moving parts that we’re trying to understand ourselves, so you need to prepare yourself for what we’re about to tell you,” I begin.

His face is drawn, his eyes filled with worry. “All right.”