Page 8 of Scorched

“Your ability to speak Spanish is a plus around here,” Mel commented.

Paul fought impatience. He was ready for the conversation to end and for Cain to disappear so that he could discuss Elise with Mel.

Cain shrugged, his attention focused on Paul. “It comes in handy.”

“Making any headway?” Paul asked.

“Some. There are just so many, it doesn’t feel like it.I’d rather sink my teeth into something more interesting.”

“We all do our jobs.” Paul refused to be drawn into another discussion about what FBI agents should be doing. He knew Trevor wanted a case more substantial than applicant background checks, but everyone had to do them. Trevor just needed to do his share.

Cain snorted. “We can’t all get the national headliners like you two, huh?” His tone held more of a bite than just another agent joking with his comrades.

“No, we can’t.” Paul glanced at Melissa. “Could you close my door? I have some calls to make.”

“Will do.” Melissa closed the door, luring Trevor away.

Paul owed her for that one. Trevor might be a good agent, but he was too impatient for the next big case. What he seemed to forget was that when they got a big case, it meant people were being either kidnapped or murdered. While Trevor was looking for a thrill, others were just trying to survive or keep someone else from being hurt.

Trevor had a lot to learn about being a good agent. In his new supervisory role, Paul hoped he’d have the patience to teach the man.

For now, he wanted to fish and see if Elise’s note had more guts behind it than just paper and ink.

His first call was to the Kendall County Sheriff’s Department. Now, how did he phrase his question in a manner that wouldn’t raise too much suspicion?

“Kendall County Sheriff’s Department.”

Paul identified himself, stating his position with the FBI in the San Antonio field office.

“What can I help you with, Agent Fletcher?” the woman asked.

“Have there been any missing persons reported in the past forty-eight hours, particularly women?”

After a long pause, the woman spoke. “No, sir. Do you want me to notify you if something should come up in that respect?”

“Yes, please.” He gave her his number, hung up and repeated his query at the sheriff’s office for the next county over and got the same response. So far, so good. Maybe there wasn’t anything to the note after all.

His gut told him differently, and his gut was rarely wrong.

A light knock sounded at the door and Melissa stuck her head in. “Mind if I join you?”

“Trevor head home?” he countered.

“No, he’s at his desk, slogging through more background checks.” She chuckled. “He’s not at all happy about it either.”

“He’ll get over it.” Paul tipped his head to the side. “Come in.”

Melissa entered, sinking into the seat across from Paul’s desk. “What are you going to do about the note?”

“I made a few calls to outlying counties. I haven’t called the Bexar County Sheriff or San Antonio Police Department yet. They’re next on my list.”

“What exactly are you asking them?”

“I’m inquiring about missing persons reported in the past forty-eight hours.” He glanced at Melissa. “You got any other ideas?”

“I’ll run the envelope and letter over to Forensics to see if we can lift any prints.”

“Thanks.”

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