Richard smoothed his thinning hair with one hand. “I think you should go to this gas station,” he said, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “In Biggs Junction.” He pointed at the papers. “That’s the last time she used her card.”
Cassidy shuffled to the last page and scanned down a list of transactions until she found it. A withdrawal for three hundred dollars at 12:43 p.m.
“Mr. Ford wants us to locate her and get her home safely.”
“This just gets weirder,” Cassidy said, though more to herself. She tried to put herself in Preston Ford’s shoes—though she had no idea what the man was like. “Partying? Is that what he’s worried about?”
“I assume so.”
Cassidy gazed at the seasoned wood floors, trying to collect her thoughts.
“Preston Ford has donated generously to the university, and to our department.”
“He has?” Cassidy said, her gaze snapping back to Richard’s.
“Over five million dollars.”
Cassidy’s lungs froze. She stared at Richard until he looked away. “Was this before or after his daughter disappeared?”
Richard’s eyes narrowed. “His mother is an alumnus. He’s been a patron for many years.”
“Okay,” Cassidy said, crossing her arms. “So not only are we being threatened, we’re being bribed?”
Richard stiffened—shoulders hiking, face narrowing. “No, I’m just making you aware of what’s at stake.”
“Fuck, Richard, I’m aware, okay?” Cassidy replied, her face feeling hot.
Cassidy saw Richard wince at her profanity and cringed. “Sorry,” she said. Too much time hanging around college students, she thought. Cassidy exhaled a hard breath, her throat feeling parched.
Richard turned to face the window where the early morning sun lit the neighboring brick buildings with a soft glow. “Interesting bit of news about your recent trip to Costa Rica,” he said.
Cassidy’s stomach quivered. During the drive she had listened to all of the new recordings on her voicemail. The requests for interviews had ranged from pleading to threatening.
“I’m sorry to hear about your stepbrother,” Richard continued. “I had no idea. And so soon after Pete.” He glanced her way, his blue eyes scrutinizing her. “Are you doing all right?”
Cassidy wanted to say something smooth and gracious, but she was too surprised to form words. “I’m fine,” she finally managed, her voice sounding thin.
He faced the window again. “Your trip to Kilauea is a remarkable opportunity. The biggest eruption in three hundred years. Your work there will be very important.” He turned and put a hand on the back of his chair. “You have a lot to contribute, Cassidy,” he said.
Cassidy did not reply. Compliments like this did not come her way very often and she wasn’t sure how to take this one.
“It seems you’re capable of solving all kinds of puzzles.” He lifted an eyebrow.
Cassidy saw his intent right away, but swallowed her reaction.
“I want you to drive to Biggs Junction and see if you can figure out where she’s gone. Hopefully she’ll surface on her own. But until then, let’s see what you can find out.”
Cassidy realized that she was gripping the papers tightly, and looked down at them. The first name on the list of addresses was Cody Bukowski.
“Mr. Ford will send me updates of Izzy’s information later today, which I will forward to you.”
Cassidy realized that she was being dismissed.
“Let’s get this taken care of, shall we? Then we can put it behind us.”
Cassidy folded the papers in half and stood. “Say it’s like her dad predicts, that she’s just partying somewhere. What if she doesn’t want to come home?”
Richard tilted his head, a soft smile playing across his lips. “Then you’ll convince her otherwise.”
“What if I can’t find her?” Cassidy said, fingering the crisp edge of the papers dangling from her fingertips.
“I have faith in you, Cassidy,” he said, walking her to the door.
Six
Feeling lost, Cassidy wandered towards her car. She slid her phone from her pocket to call Martin, noticing three missed calls from numbers she didn’t recognize. Frustrated, she resisted the urge to throw her phone across the campus.
Once inside her Subaru, she waited through the endless rings until Martin’s voicemail asked her to leave a message. She hung up and weighed her options for several minutes, then sorted through her contacts. But FBI Agent Bruce Keolani didn’t answer either. Cassidy left him a vague message. She was unclear about how FBI agents operated—was Bruce involved in the process of getting Mel Tomlinson’s case ready? Or did that job belong to someone else, and he was back undercover? She hadn’t spoken to him in months.
Then, Martin called her back.
“Tell me again what happened,” Cassidy asked after she gave him a brief summary of her conversation with Dr. Gorman.
Martin sighed. “We stopped for gas. It was a Chevron, I think. There’s a convenience store, and we all went in.”
“Did Bridget stop too?” Cassidy pulled up one knee—no small task in the cramped front seat—and leaned back into the corner.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Was there anything going on at the gas station? Like, did you see what other vehicles were there, or did you notice anything?”
“No,” Martin said. “You know how it is. I was focusing on getting us back on the road so we could all get home.”
Not focusing hard enough on the students, Cassidy didn’t say. “And you did the count?” she asked. As a rule, the driver always counted the van’s occupants before leaving a destination to make sure nobody was left behind.
“Yeah, but Izzy was asleep in the back, so I counted her.”
“But you didn’t actually check that she was there.”
“No,” Martin said softly.
Cassidy moved on. “From her debit card record, she made a cash withdrawal from the ATM there.”
“You got access to her debit card records?” Martin asked, his voice rising in pitch.
“Courtesy of Preston Ford.”
“This is intense,” Martin said.
Cassidy rubbed her forehead. “So, that means that she got out of the van and used the ATM. But you didn’t see her.”
“No!” Martin replied, sounding frustrated. “Does it say what time she used it?”
Cassidy scanned down to the line from Biggs Junction, Oregon, again. “Twelve forty-three.”
“Okay,”
