“Does she use a drawing pad? Something that keeps her work together, or is it a notebook or loose paper?”
“It’s a drawing pad. It has a black cover. Chrissy has stickers all over the cover.”
“Okay, good. You saw that she draws in a single drawing pad. When was the last time you think you saw her sitting in the stairwell?”
“I don’t know I think like Saturday night.”
“Last night?” Meghan asked quickly.
Vincent shook his head. “Last weekend,” he said. “I went to the Memorial dance last night.”
“Did you see Christine at the dance?”
Vincent waited to answer. Meghan saw him look up and to the right. He recalled the events yesterday. He shook his head.
“I didn’t see Chrissy. But I saw Cecil. I remember he was asking around for Chrissy. He didn’t talk to me. He talked to a few other people. But I overheard him.”
“What time do you think you saw Cecil last night?”
“I don’t know around eight or nine. Can I go now?”
Meghan sat back and drummed her fingers on the tabletop.
“Vincent, they are going to secure a warrant to search your apartment.” She shook her head. “Right now, with what’s happened, and what they found in your apartment, there’s enough probable cause for the warrant search.”
“Why? I ain’t done nothing wrong.” It came out with a pout. Meghan saw his eyes glass over with tears again. Vincent sniffled.
“This is a good time to tell me if they will find anything in your apartment. Do you have anything more than the undergarments?”
“I got stuff, you know.”
“What stuff?”
“Like, you know, sex stuff.”
“Vincent, no one cares about your stuff as long as you’re not breaking the law. What can happen if they find something you’re not supposed to have, aside from the ladies’ things, they can charge you with a crime. We’ve got a missing girl. You understand how important that is to all of us. You know Christine from the apartment complex. You talked to her before. If one of those pairs of underwear you took from the laundry has Christine Tuktu’s DNA on it, you will be a prime suspect in her disappearance.”
“Do you need to explain that to him?” the cadet asked. He stood closer to Meghan’s chair than she realized.
Meghan stood up and turned around. “You’d rather keep a suspect in the dark? What good does that do, other than satisfy your little ego? You have a man here who indulges in something that others don’t understand. He has every right to protect his privacy and dignity. You have no right to broadcast any details of this interview to anyone, anywhere. That includes your mouth-breathing friends back at the academy. You don’t like what you hear right now. I suggest you find another job. You want to stay in law enforcement but can’t handle a little self-discipline when it comes to the inalienable rights of civilians. You should become a corrections officer. They’re hiring people like you who want to keep the public safe but can’t keep your mouth shut and grow up.”
“You act like you like his little panty fetish,” the cadet said.
He had close-set eyes and a beaky nose that ran almost flush with his forehead. The thing about the bureau, they needed pretty people and not-so-pretty people. Since the cadet had an obvious self-image issue, he overcompensated with muscle tone and bullying. It didn’t help with his looks, but it built up the confidence to overflowing arrogance.
Meghan ignored the two troopers peeking around the archway at the comment. The other cadets in the situation room stood back, monitoring the challenge. Meghan saw a young man who had more to learn about suspects, civilians, and authority figures.
“I am woman enough to know you feel threatened by things that you are unable to process mentally. It has nothing to do with what Vincent likes or doesn’t. You need to learn manners and how to conduct yourself as an FBI agent. In my opinion, you have a long way to go. If I were your instructor, you’d have a lot more to learn before you’re worthy of taking that oath.”
He squinted and towered over Meghan. It was something she dealt with her whole life. Men used height and strength to intimidate. Whatever he had to prove, the cadet needed an audience. Meghan had interactions with both state troopers who stood back, watching the young man. Vincent remained welded to the chair out of fear and fascination. Meghan smelled his lunch wash over her as he breathed something from the Chinese restaurant, something with ginger and onions.
“Step back, cadet. This isn’t the time or place for you to show dominance.”
He smirked, filling out the comment and adding his interpretation. “You want to find out about my dominance? Is that your thing too? Panty fetishes and dominant men, are you submissive too?” The words came out of his mouth around gritted teeth.
Any other time, any other moment, Meghan knew she’d respond in a manner that fit his demeanor. She had a case, and his attitude needed a lot more adjusting than she wanted to spend time doing. They had an interagency investigation to deal with a missing—possibly drowned child in Kinguyakkii Sound when she went ice panning at night while the rest of the town, including the police, went to a holiday dance. It was a scenario that Meghan found incredibly hard to swallow.
“I don’t have time for this,” she said.
Meghan turned away from the cadet and his sour breath. She moved to address Vincent again. The look on his face suggested whatever he saw and heard meant to stay with him for a long time. Meghan intended to have it end right there. Then she felt it. The intentional unprovoked touch on her denim was something that took a millisecond to process. Her
