Free Cold Fear by Rick Mofina

briefed.”
    “You’re with--what is it?--Internet liason? GFP?”
sounded like he was reading something alien, “I never heard--and this is your
first investigation?”
    “Yes.”
    “You sure you are on this case? Did they call the right
person out there?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then that fax number you gave me better be secure.
There will be no breaches of security. Understood?”
    Two minutes and Bowman could not stand Zander. She was
nervous and green, but she was not an idiot.
    “Agent Zander, is the plane you are on Bureau or
commercial?”
    “Commercial.”
    “You alone on it?”
    “No.”
    “I am alone in a Chevy Blazer on a Montana highway. The
only threat to security is road kill. You’re discussing an active case in a
public place. Look around at the other passengers pretending not to hear any of
the words you just shouted at me. Is that procedure with you big guns in Washington?”
    His line hissed with silence.
    Just shot myself in the foot, Bowman thought, her mind reeling with the names of all the major
cases Zander had likely worked and how for the last few months her major
investigation was how to get a new mouse for her computer. Suddenly, she was
painfully self-conscious of her inexperience, her weight, her self-esteem. That
does it. I am toast.
    “The fax is on its way. I will call you within the
hour,” Zander said, ending their conversation.
    Bowman immediately punched a number on her phone,
glancing at the Chevy’s dash clock. She had twenty minutes before they closed.
    “Turly’s Gas, Don speaking.”
    “Don, it’s Tracy. Sweetie, do me a favor please. Put
paper in your fax machine and turn it on. I got something coming in right now.
Boring stuff about Mark’s medical condition from an FBI friend whose family is
going through the same thing. I’ll be there in five minutes to get it and fill
up, too.”
    “Sure Trace, no problem.”
    Bowman scanned the nine-page fax while Don filled her
Blazer’s tank and checked her oil. Her stomach knotted. The rangers were right;
this one had a very bad aura given what she saw in the notes and the summary of
the old SFPD complaint. The father’s wound, the family’s demeanor and
evasiveness would warrant serious concern after their daughter vanished. How
long has she been missing now? Bowman checked her watch.
    Pulling out of Turly’s, driving deeper into the night
and the Rocky Mountains, she realized that she was heading into a significant
case. One that was going to draw plenty of attention: a mother and father
grappling with their fears for their lost daughter while the FBI investigates
the suspicion that one, or both of them, killed her.

TEN

    FBI Special Agent Frank Zander
watched the icon on his laptop computer indicate his fax had gone through. He
disconnected the computer line from the plane’s air phone. Repositioning
himself in his seat, he subtly inventoried his immediate area. The jet was
sprinkled with passengers. Zander was alone in his section, the row of seats to
himself to stretch out. Still, that Montana Agent was right. He was guilty of
risking security.
    Who was she anyway? This Tracy Bowman from, what the
hell was it, Internet GFP in Missoula? So she scored high on course work and
was near the scene. That was justification for inflicting her on him? He had no
time for training a junior agent. Maybe she was good. Maybe she was somebody’s
favor. Zander shook his head. Nobody had talked to him that way. He did not
need her… or any women in his life, for that matter.
    He shut down his computer, set it aside, switched off
the overhead reading lights and peered out the window at the night. He had
digested everything they had so far on this case and formulated a plan on how
he would go at it. Before he landed in Montana, he would go over everything
once more and fine-tune his strategy. For now, he should try to get some sleep.
Thirty-five thousand feet below, he saw the lights of cities and towns flowing
by. He sometimes felt