“From what I’ve read, everyone back then came to the same conclusion. It wasn’t just your father. The locals asked the agency to come in because they believed Shannon had been killed, and they’d had very little experience dealing with homicides. There was nothing in the Bureau file or in the Hatton police file that indicated anyone had given any thought to any scenario other than Shannon ’s murder.”

“Mistake number one, then, and don’t you wonder why? If no one had considered that Shannon had been abducted, or that she’d run away, then there were never any leads pursued that led anywhere other than murder.” She made a face. “If there was anything to be found back then, it’s going to be a million times more difficult to find it now. It’s just so unlike my father to jump to a conclusion without considering every possibility.”

“You don’t know for certain that he didn’t, so let’s not make that assumption. That’s one of those things you might want to ask him. Someone must have steered him in that direction. In the meantime, I think we’re going to have to take another look at the evidence they did have, maybe reevaluate it.”

“What evidence was there?” She counted off on the fingers of her left hand. “They had Beale’s shirt covered with Shannon ’s blood. Her assignment book was found in his car. They had his admission he’d driven her to the park where she cleaned up, and they found the bloody paper towels in the ladies’ room there. They couldn’t find anybody who saw Shannon after Beale said he dropped her off, but somebody saw Beale driving Shannon out of town around seven, according to the file I looked at last night. There were no other sightings of this girl. The evidence shows she got into Beale’s car and was never seen alive again.”

“Well, not in Hatton, anyway,” Andrew added. “And you have to admit that all seems to point to Beale.”

“What are the chances he drove her someplace, helped her to run away?” Dorsey suggested.

“You’d think he’d have said something back then, when his life depended on it.”

“Suppose Shannon convinced Beale that something terrible was happening to her at home, that she had to run away, and he helped her.” Dorsey considered the possibility. “He was her friend, maybe she made him promise not to tell.”

“Promise or not, he would have spoken up,” Andrew insisted. “No matter how good a friend he was, no way would that kid have kept his mouth shut if it meant being executed.”

“You’d think.” She sat quietly again for a while, then asked, “So you’ve read the Bureau’s entire file?”

“Yes.”

“Fill me in on everything. I’ve only read bits and pieces.”

“Where would you like to start?” A light rain started to fall and he turned on the wipers.

“Start with the family. I remember seeing a picture of the four girls in the newspaper back then. Shannon was the second youngest, I think.”

“Right. The oldest is Natalie, now Natalie Randall-Scott, the state senator. She was twenty-one, away at college in 1983. They barely talked to her at all back then. The next sister is Aubrey-she’s not married. She’s the one who has the television show, sort of a Southern Martha Stewart, if I understand correctly. She’s rumored to be in line for a national show. She was seventeen, a high school senior, when Shannon disappeared. Shannon was the third child, and the last was Paula Rose, who was three years younger than Shannon. She’s a minister in the church previously served by her father and grandfather.”

“Mom and Dad are both still alive, I know. But what about the grandparents?”

“Martha and Paul Randall. Grandma’s still with us, Reverend Paul passed on a few years ago.”

“One of the sisters might know what it was Shannon was running away from,” she murmured, “if in fact she ran and wasn’t abducted.”

They drove a mile in silence.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For?”

“For not shutting me out of this. I know you’re letting me closer than John wanted me to be.”

He chose his words carefully.

“John didn’t exactly tell me what to do here-he rarely does. I don’t know that he’s afraid anyone would recognize you-why would they?-or figure out you’re Matt’s daughter. Your last name is Collins, not Ranieri. No one connected with the case, outside a very few individuals within the Bureau, would know, which is why he doesn’t want your name on any reports. You just don’t know who might read them inside the Bureau.”

“He doesn’t think anyone would…” Dorsey looked confused.

“Your dad had a great career with the Bureau, and left to have an even better one as a crime analyst, or whatever they’re calling him on TV these days. There might be some who are jealous of his success.”

“Jealous enough to call the media and tell them that Matt’s daughter is secretly investigating the case?”

Andrew shrugged. “Hey, people can be unpredictable, you know that. The bottom line is, we just have to play this whole thing very smart. Like I said, Mancini doesn’t want it out there that you’re Matt Ranieri’s daughter and he’s right about you not signing reports. You’re not assigned to the case. He certainly doesn’t want the Bureau to be embarrassed.

“On the other hand, Edith Chiong obviously responded to you better than she did to me. It was in the best interest of the investigation for you to do the talking, and for me to observe.” He took note of the highway sign directing them toward their exit.

“The notes will be in your handwriting and will go into the file,” she murmured. “No need to even mention that I was there.”

“For the record, I think Mancini knew going in that you weren’t going to play silent partner.” Andrew changed lanes. “And let’s face it, there are going to be times when the interests of the investigation will best be served by you doing the talking.”

“Because I’m a woman.”

“Simple fact.” He shrugged. “Some people relate better to women, some to men. We’ll go with whatever best suits the circumstances.”

“Fair enough.”

Dorsey used the controls to bring her seat back up. “Why do you suppose he agreed so quickly to let me in on this?”

“I’m sure he had his reasons. Maybe he thought you’d try to investigate on your own, and that wouldn’t have been good for anyone.”

“So at least this way he thinks he can keep an eye on me?”

“I’m not reporting back to him on what you are or are not doing, if that’s what you’re insinuating.” For some reason, the idea that he was spying for John annoyed the hell out of him.

“Sorry,” she said after a few silent minutes had passed. “But you have to admit, the devil you know, and all that…”

“I don’t really know all of his motives, but I do know he’d declined to bring another agent into the case, so as long as you’re not flaunting your pedigree and no one in the Bureau figures out you’re here, I think he’s just going to leave things the way they are. As long as it works.”

“Do you think it’s working?” she asked.

“You did a good job with Edith Chiong. The Randalls might be a little tougher. We’ll play that by ear, see what kind of a read we get on them. They’ve gone through a lot in the past few days.”

“About that.” Dorsey turned in her seat to face him. “Have you seen any news reports about this?”

“No, but I haven’t been watching television. The newspapers I read at breakfast this morning didn’t have the story, either.”

“I totally expected this to be everywhere. I even told my dad not to answer his phone unless he knew for certain who was on the other end.”

“Guess it just hasn’t been put out there yet.”

“But wouldn’t you expect it to have been? This is a story. How is it that even the local papers haven’t picked up on it? I mean, if this had been your daughter, or your sister, wouldn’t you be screaming about the incompetence of the FBI or the police or something?”

“Maybe not if I was one of the Randall sisters, and my screaming announced to the world that my sister was a hooker.”