The band on stage announces theyāre taking a break but will be back in a bit. As they depart, music begins to play from the speakers mounted to the walls overhead, and the buzz of conversation grows louder. Thereās a strange current in the air that surrounds us that I canāt quite place. The tightness around Senator Barlowās eyes and his grim expression tell me heās upsetāthat heās got a problem. And the fact that Church tracked me down and brought him here to see me tells me for some reason they think Iām the one who can solve it. My skin prickles, and my stomach churns as the realization settles down over me.
āSo, not to be too blunt, but back to my original question,ā I say. āMay I ask again why weāre all here?ā
Barlow looks around as if making sure nobody is eavesdropping on our conversation. He doesnāt have to worry though. There is literally nobody in the entire lounge thatās turning our way or looking remotely interested in us. Nobody is listening. He leans forward and speaks in little more than a whisper anyway. Paranoia apparently runs deep in DC.
āChief Wilder, my daughter was abducted,ā he says.
I look at him blankly for a moment, then turn to Church. āWhy are you coming to me? Why hasnāt the Bureauāā
āBecause I donāt want the Bureau as a whole involved,ā Barlow cuts me off. āI donāt want this in the media. I want this kept quiet, and Lauren assures me we can trust your discretion.ā
āHave you received a ransom demand? A threat if you involve authorities?ā I ask.
Barlow shakes his head. āWeāve had no communication from her abductor.ā
āI donāt mean this to sound insensitive, but how do you know she was taken, Senator?ā
āBecause she never showed up for her piano lesson,ā he says.
āSheās a teenager, sir. Teenagersāā
He cuts me off with a shake of his head. āYou donāt know Ashley. Sheās not like other teenagers. Sheās not irresponsible, and she never just disappears like that. She always calls to tell me what sheās doing or if her plans have changed. Always. And one thing she would never do is blow off a piano lesson. Never in a million years.ā
Parents always want to believe the best in their children and believe that they tell them everything. None actually do. Kids always keep secrets and have their own lives their parents know nothing about. Itās just a universal truth. But I know I need to balance that knowledge with the idea that parents know when something isnāt right. Parents tend to have an intuition when it comes to their children that defies logic but is somehow usually right. And Barlow speaks with such an intense conviction in his voice, I feel like I have to give him some credence rather than dismissing his fears out of hand. And if Church is convinced that something is wrong here, then I should probably hear the man out.
āOkay, letās have a conversation,ā I tell him. āBut this isnāt the place for it. Letās talk someplace more private.ā
We quickly down our drinks, then make our way out of the lounge. As we step into the evening air and Barlow leads us to a waiting SUV, the secrecy of this all leaves me with a lingering sense of unease for reasons that elude me at the moment. Perhaps itās because my experience tells me the vast majority of child abduction cases donāt have a happy ending. And maybeāitās horribly selfish, bordering on monstrousāthereās a small sliver in the back of my mind that wonders what will happen to me and my career if we fail to bring Barlowās daughter home safely.
My God, I hate Bureau politics.
Residence of Senator Elliot Barlow, Georgetown District; Washington DC
Barlowās residenceāwhen he stays in the districtāis a red brick, three-story brownstone on a narrow, quiet, tree-lined street in one of the tonier parts of the already toney area. The interior of the house is tastefully appointed, predictably looking like something out of a Better Homes & Gardens photo spread. Thereās no clutter, nothing out of place, and everything seems just so. Honestly, itās stiff and stuffy, reminding me of a movie set and everything within the walls a prop meant to convey a specific image. Because, God forbid, we canāt have anybody who stops by see that Elliot Barlow is a real human being who occasionally might leave something lying around or anything like that.
The wood flooring cracks and pops as Barlow leads us through the house and into a dimly lit office at the back of the house. The furnishings all look to be handcrafted from some exotic hardwood thatās rich and dark. There's an American flag folded into a triangle in a glass-fronted box slits on a corner of his desk. I assume itās the flag he was given when his father, a former Marine and US Senator himself, passed away. The wall to my right is dominated by an ornate bookcase filled with law texts and pictures, mostly of Barlow and a younger girl who, judging by her warm hazel eyes and similar smile, has to be his daughter.
I walk over and pick up the frame, studying the young girl closely. In it, sheās in a black dress and is standing with the Senator beside a piano. It looks like it was taken at a recital. Sheās almost a foot shorter than her father and has delicate, pixie-like features. Her hair is the same shade as Barlowās and is tied back with a red ribbon. In the photo, her eyes sparkle, and a wide smile stretches her heart-shaped lips. Sheās cute, if a little gangly and awkward in that typical teenage way. I can tell, though, that sheās inherited her fatherās features.
āPlease, have a seat,ā Barlow says.
I set the picture down, then walk over and perch on the edge of one of the plush leather wingbacks that sit in front of a large, ornately carved desk that has a vintage, antique look to it. DD Church sits in the other chair while Barlow walks to a sideboard and picks up a square-shaped crystal decanter of what I presume is scotch. He pours out three glasses, then hands each of us one before taking the third and walks around his desk, dropping heavily into the chair behind it. He looks tired. Though just forty years old, as he sips his drink, he looks twenty years older than that.
A small, petite woman in a dark pantsuit with her black hair pulled back into a tight bun that sits at the nape of her neck walks into the office, a stern but worried look on her face.
āThis is Gretchen Kaldor, my Chief of Staff,ā Barlow says. āGretchen, you know Lauren. This is Unit Chief Blake Wilder. Theyāre here to help us find Ashley.ā
āNice to meet you,ā I say.
āNice to meet you as well,ā she replies crisply, then turns to Barlow. āStill no contact from whomever took her. And Iām still not able to get through to Ashley on her cell either.ā
The worry on Gretchenās face is as plain to see as it is to hear in her voice. I can tell she cares about Ashley. The vibe Iām getting from her is almost maternal. Iām guessing Gretchen has been with the Senator for a long time and has probably watched his daughter grow up. I know the Senatorās wifeāAshleyās motherāpassed away when Ashley was young, so seeing the emotion on the womanās face makes me think maybe Gretchen has been something of a surrogate mother to the girl.
āThank you, Gretchen,ā Barlow says. āGive me a little time with Lauren and Chief Wilder.ā
āYes, sir.ā
She leaves the office, softly closing the door behind her, and we sit in silence for a couple of minutes as Barlow stares into his drink, trying to gather himself. Heās a lot calmer than I would have expected somebody in his position to be, but I can see the strain around his eyes. Heās somehow managing to keep himself together. His self-control and apparent ability to compartmentalize his emotions is impressive. If I were in his situation, I honestly donāt know that Iād be able to hold it together half as well as he is.
Taking a quick swallow of my scotch, I try to quiet the voices of cynicism and suspicion that live in the back of my mind. Both are whispering in my ear, filling my head with questions about whether Barlow is too calm or not. Questions about whether he could be involved with his daughterās disappearance and is simply trying to deflect any suspicion by pulling DD Church and me into this. My head can be a crowdedānoisyāand I admit, a completely jaded place at times. I sometimes hate that I think this way and that suspicion is my default setting, but seeing all the angles, asking the hard questions, and taking nothing for granted is why Iām good at my job.
Barlow drains his glass, then stands up and walks over to the sideboard. He picks up a bottle with a trembling hand, some of the scotch sloshing over the side of his glass as he refills it. The Senator hesitates for a moment, then turns and carries his glass as well as the decanter back to the desk with him.
āChief Wilderāā
āPlease, just call me Blake,ā I reply and look pointedly at the decanter. āAnd if weāre going to get through this, I need you to have your wits about you.ā
He nods and cups the glass between his hands, staring into the depths of the amber liquid for a moment in silence. He gathers himself, then raises his head and looks at me, his expression tight and determined.
āBlake, my daughter is all I have left,ā he says. āMy wife, SamanthaāSamāpassed away some years ago, and Ashley, sheās all I have now. Maybe I can be a little overprotective at times, but I know when something is wrong. And Iām telling you, something is wrong. This isnāt like Ashley.ā
āSo, sheās never done anything like this before?ā I ask.
He shakes his head, a wan smile touching his lips. āI know what youāre thinking. No kid ever tells their parents everything, and they all keep secrets. Iām not naĆÆve; I know Ash has her secretsāand I let her keep them. Sheās a growing girl and I donāt need to be in every single corner of her life. But we made a deal after her mother died that we would share the big things and that we would never lie to each other.
āI know my daughter, Chief. And I know sheās held true to that promise just as I know she would never miss a piano lesson without letting somebody know. She reveres Aurelio and wouldnāt just stand him up like that. Gretchen and I have been texting and calling her all evening andā¦ nothing. She may have a few secrets, but she would never just go radio silent on me like this.ā
āOkay, but Iām still not entirely sure why Iām here and why you havenāt gone to local authorities or had Deputy Director Church mobilize Bureau resourcesāā
āAs I said, I want this handled quietly and discreetly,ā he cuts me off. āI do not want the media circus that would come with the child of a sitting senator being abducted.ā
āBlake, you know as well as I do that media scrutiny sharply decreases the chances of us getting Ashley back alive,ā Church says softly. āWe just donāt want to add any more risk to the situation than there already is.ā
Itās understandable. The media feeding frenzy around the abduction of the child of a US Senator would be intense and would very likely make the kidnapper, if there is one, feel boxed-in and desperate. That sort of heightened pressure could make it more likely that he would kill Ashley. Iāve seen it happen too many times before.
āIām sure youāre wondering why weāre coming to you with this, and the reason is simple,ā Barlow starts. āLauren says there is nobody better and nobody she trusts more than you. And thereās nobody I trust more than her, so if she says youāre the one to do the job, then thatās good enough for me.ā
I glance at DD Church, and she gives me a tight nod, which seems to confirm what Barlow said is true. Iām glad to have her confidence, but I worry it might wind up being misplaced in a case that has as high a potential for failure as this one. But thereās nothing I can do about that right now. All I can do is focus on the task at hand and do my best to bring it to a happy conclusion.
āOkay, so you havenāt had any contact with Ashley since when?ā I ask.
āI talked to her on the phone this morning before she left for school. When Iām not able to be at home, we make a point of talking every morning,ā he says.
āAnd where is home, Senator?ā