Free R.S. Guthrie - Detective Bobby Mac 02 - L O S T by R.S. Guthrie

every eleven-year-old girl in the county. Not even the FBI could accomplish that—but with numbers like those, it was a fine start.
    “Tanner Noon,” the agent in charge said, introducing himself to the collective of Jax, Amanda, and myself.
    “Special Agent Amanda Byrne. We spoke on the phone.”
    “You don’t remember me, Agent?”
    “Sir?”
    “We attended Quantico together. You turned down my advances more times than I care to recount.”
    “The bad crew cut,” Amanda said, smiling.
    “I was young. Trying to save a buck.”
    “Good to see you again, sir.”
    “Tanner, please. Introduce me to your friends.”
    “Chief Jackson Macaulay,” Jax interjected before Amanda could do it for him. “We’ve spoken also.”
    “I recognize the voice,” Noon said, extending five manicured nails and a hand to go with them. “Sorry for the intrusion.”
    “Yeah,” Jax said, and shook Noon’s hand as limply as I’d ever seen him.
    “You must be the detective from Denver,” he said. He didn’t offer his hand to me. Apparently I was in the wrong pond. Or with the wrong girl. I couldn’t yet decide which.
    “Bobby Macaulay. Mac is fine.”
    “All right then,” Noon said. “Join me in Command One for a briefing?”
     
    ~ ~ ~
     
    If the command vehicles looked impressive from the outside, they were pure technological genius on the interior. Not one inch was underutilized. I had to give the federales credit: this was no vacation home, filled with overpriced creature comforts. They’d flown them in to Lewiston-Nez Pearce County Airport on a C-5 Galaxy transport plane, along with a dozen SUVs and the army of agents that had turned the trailhead into a staging ground the size of two football fields.
    Agent Noon had a digitized map up on one of the big screens. Using a special pen on the tabletop computer in front of him, he drew lines on the map that appeared simultaneously on the big screen on the wall.
    “As we speak, the choppers are taking off to form a triangle and begin working this entire area in rotating pieces. Strict military sectioning. Once they’ve canvassed the entire area, if unsuccessful, they will repeat until we find something.
    “It’s all low altitude searches, with two spotters per bird. If a deer farts down there, we’ll know it.”
    I glanced sideways at Amanda. She seemed all ears.
    “I’ve got sixty agents divided into teams of a dozen. One tracker per team. That’s five teams, forming a skirmish line and beginning at the southern end of the Coeur d’Alene boundary.
    “We’ll be working these woods, mountains, dells, valleys, riverbeds, and every other square inch of this godforsaken wilderness from dawn until dusk. We’re going to find those little girls.”
    “Don’t say that to the parents,” Jax said. “Or the media. Don’t you ever tell them we are going to find them. You tell them you’re doing everything you can. That’s it.”
    “Easy, Chief. Just an expression. I know how to handle the press.”
    “And the families.”
    “What?”
    “I said, ‘and the families’.”
    “Right, yes, the families as well.”
    “Where do we fit in all this,” Jax asked.
    “You?”
    “My department. My brother. Agent Byrne. Do you need a digitized map, Agent?”
    “Tanner. I told you all to call me Tanner.”
    “Do you?”
    “Do I what?”
    “Do you need a map, Noon? What do you need us doing?”
    “I don’t need you doing anything,” Noon said. “What I am directing you to do is remain in town—at the precinct, at the local donut shop, I don’t really give a shit, Chief. Just stay out of the way. Your brother is away from home, and I’m not exactly sure what Agent Byrne is doing up here. As a matter of fact, Amanda, you are more than welcome to assist us up here, in an official capacity, I mean.”
    “I’d like that,” she said. “I need to go to town, get my gun, etcetera. Back later in the afternoon?”
    “Perfect,” Noon said, and looked at us