Page 67 of Chill Factor

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“Another minute or two. I’ll bring it over when it’s ready.”

Having exhausted reasons to delay the meeting, Dutch turned toward the booth where the two agents were waiting like vultures over a dying animal. The older one made a point of checking his wristwatch.

Asshole, Dutch thought. Did they think he was at their beck and call? Apparently so, gauging by the way they had mandated this meeting, giving him virtually no warning.

He’d just pulled up out front of Hawkins’s place when he got a call from Harris. The young policeman had sounded out of breath and was sputtering with excitement, but Dutch finally interpreted the message: meet the feebs at the drugstore. “In half an hour, he said.”

“Who said? That Special Agent Wise?”

“No,” Harris replied. “Older guy. Introduced himself as the SAC.”

Fuckin’ fabulous. “Where’d you run into them?”

“Uh, I don’t think I’m supposed to say. He told me not to mention names over the radio.”

“What’s he want to see me for?”

“That’s something else I’m not supposed to say over the radio.”

Dutch swore beneath his breath. What had happened to Harris, for chrissake? Had he been bewitched? “Well, if they’re at the drugstore when I get there, fine. But I’m not going to hang around waiting on them.”

“I don’t think you want to cross this guy, sir.”

Dutch hated having his authority challenged, especially by the officers on his force. “I don’t think he wants to cross me either.”

“No, sir,” Harris said. “But the SAC told me it was important that you meet this morning. And the way he said it, it was like . . . well, like he’d be good and pissed if you didn’t show. Just my opinion, sir.”

Now that Dutch had seen the SAC for himself, he shared Harris’s opinion. One glance and Dutch sized him up as a no-nonsense ball-breaker. He’d had plenty of experience with tight asses like him in the APD. He disliked the feeb instantly.

Without hurry, he ambled over to the booth and slid in across from them. “Morning.”

Wise made the introductions. “Police Chief Dutch Burton, this is SAC Kent Begley.”

Begley was brittle and brusque, even in the way he said, “Burton,” as they shook hands across the Formica. That alone revealed what he thought of Dutch. Begley had dismissed his importance even before they had exchanged a how-do-you-do. In the SAC’s mind, this was a formality, protocol he had to go through before elbowing out the dumb local cop.

The federal sons of bitches claimed not to feel that way about local law enforcement outfits. The company line was that they had the utmost respect for anyone wearing a badge. Bullshit. You might find an exception to the rule if you looked hard enough among the rank and file, but generally speaking, they thought they were the know-all, be-all. Period. End of story.

“We apologize for the short notice,” Wise said.

Wise had been introduced to Dutch shortly after he moved back to Cleary and assumed the job of chief. As they shook hands the first time, Wise had said he was relieved that someone with know-how would now be working on the missing persons cases. But Dutch had seen through the good manners. Wise had only been humoring him and playing politics.

Ritt delivere

d three cups of coffee. Begley ignored his. Wise opened a packet of sweetener. Dutch took a sip from his cup before asking, “What’s the urgency?”

“You mean besides five missing women?” Begley said.

He was like an industrial-strength abrasive scouring Dutch’s raw nerve endings. Dutch wanted to hit him. Instead he locked gazes with the senior agent, and each telegraphed his disdain for the other.

Wise coughed lightly behind his fist and pushed up his slipping eyeglasses. “Sir, I’m certain Chief Burton didn’t mean to diminish the importance of finding the missing persons.”

“This weather has temporarily suspended my investigation.”

“Which amounts to what?” Begley asked.

Ever the diplomat, Wise quickly amended Begley’s question. “Perhaps you could bring us up to date on your investigation, Chief Burton.”

Dutch was hanging on to his patience by a thread, but the sooner he answered their questions, the sooner he could get on his way. “Since I first learned of Millicent Gunn’s disappearance, I’ve had every spare man I could recruit—from my department, the state police, county sheriff’s office, and a goodly number of volunteers—combing the area.


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