Free Noah's Rainy Day by Sandra Brannan Page B

an introduction to each of the TSA employees.
    He gathered as many of them as he could in the tiny glass-enclosed viewing room nearby and introduced Streeter. “Special Agent Streeter Pierce is with the FBI and is the regional expert on hostage negotiations.”
    Everyone mumbled a greeting, eyeing him. Streeter knew he was as approachable as a hungry pit bull—his shoulders were wide and bulky, his face as hard as Washington’s on Mt. Rushmore, and his voice sounded as if he’d swallowed barbed wire for breakfast, as Liv Bergen had once told him. He kept his eyes fixed on each face in front of him, sure to reveal nothing about himself other than his formidability.
    Gates added, “As Chief of the Denver Police, this is my investigation, which I fully intend to turn over to Special Agent Pierce and the FBI in short order, depending on the facts. But the first task is to find out what you all know, saw, or heard that might be out of the ordinary, particularly between noon and two, roughly. How many of you were on shift at that time?”
    Most of them raised their hands.
    One man called out, “Some of us started on the one o’clock shift.”
    Several nodded.
    “Then all of you will be important to this case. Chief Deputy Ed Heisinger, who you may have already met, will be taking your statements. We know it’s the holidays, but we have a child missing and we’d appreciate if you’d stick around until after Eddie and his team have had a chance to interview you and get your contact information.”
    “What about the earlier shift? Do you want their names?” another TSA agent asked.
    “Absolutely. Anything you can do to help us out. Here’s a photograph of the missing BlueSky employee, Kevin Benson, along with a snapshot of the missing boy. We’ve sent it out electronically to your official contacts. Print and forward copies to everyone you think needs to see these the second you get them. We’ve issued an APD on Benson and an Amber Alert on the boy. We have verified that a boy fitting his description passed through LaGuardia’s security and the boarding gate to the plane, which brought him here. And the BlueSky management team has assured us that they have spoken to the gate agent who witnessed the escort deplaning with the boy at gate 31 in Concourse B.”
    “Show us the picture,” one officer in the back shouted. “I never forget a face.”
    Gates passed back the photo of the boy with long, blond hair cropped in a pageboy haircut. “The boy’s five,” Gates shouted back. “The photo’s working its way back to you. But I’ll need it back.”
    “His hair looks like mine,” Officer Cheryl, the Little Lotta look-alike, said, handing the photo to the person next to her. “Only blonder.”
    Streeter was thankful for the example.
    The original TSA agent who bragged he never forgot a face said, “No one’s been through here today looking like that. But check with her.” Hejerked his thumb at the TSA agent posted at the top of the up escalators. “I was stuck over here and I doubt whoever took the boy would risk coming back through security.”
    “What’s her job there?” Streeter asked.
    “Mainly to make sure no one goes down the wrong way on the escalator or into the elevator bypassing security to board the trains to the concourses. That’s where travelers coming into Denver depart the terminals.”
    Gates nodded. “Sounds reasonable. I don’t want to rule anything out at this point.”
    The TSA agent was persistent, pointing at the up escalators across the main concourse in the distance. “They either left the airport over there—which is where we post two of our TSA agents at all times—or they hopped a plane elsewhere without having to go back through security.”
    Streeter had already come to the same conclusion, but he could see how getting the employees to talk would help stimulate recall and discussion of earlier “odd” events.
    “There’ve been only two TSA employees working security