Shattered (Michael Bennett #14)(8)

“The senator from New York?” I almost shouted in surprise.

“The very same. And it looks like Emily’s had some other high-profile lovers over the past couple of years.”

Emily and I were friends, but once it was clear we weren’t going to be romantically involved, I didn’t think it right to ask her any questions about her romantic life.

Roberta said, “The most important thing I was able to work out was finding you a decent FBI contact. He’s the lead agent on Emily’s disappearance, and he’s worked with her for the past year. His name is Bobby Patel. The only problem is, it might be a day or so before he can sit down with you. You’ll have a couple of thick files to occupy yourself. I know how antsy you get.”

“He’s okay being a liaison with someone not officially on the case?”

“I spoke to him face-to-face. He’ll benefit from experience like yours. But remember, this is a completely unofficial association. I said you wouldn’t cause too much trouble or talk to the media. I even told him there was a slight chance you might be helpful.”

That sounded more like the Roberta I knew. It also put me at ease.





Chapter 10



It took a day for everything to line up so I could sit down with the FBI agent Roberta Herring had arranged for me to meet. I used the time to read the case file Roberta had given me. It had the FBI reports along with the DC police reports on Emily’s disappearance. I also used the time to catch up on the DC gossip surrounding Emily. Every story and internet post I read led me to another five. Then I started learning a little more about the new Supreme Court justice, Robert Steinberg. By the time the FBI agent was ready to meet me, my head felt crammed with conspiracy theories as well as a few facts.

It was no surprise that my FBI contact, Bobby Patel, didn’t want to meet me anywhere we might be seen by FBI people, but I picked him out as soon as I walked through the door of Baked and Wired, a coffeehouse on Thomas Jefferson Street, not far from the Potomac.

The basic color scheme and unfinished ceiling were trying a little too hard to be trendy. Bobby was a tall, fit guy in his early to mid thirties with a dark complexion and black hair. In a dark suit with a yellow tie, he wasn’t trying too hard to blend in among similarly dressed federal workers occupying chairs and stools at a long communal table.

His expression made him look like he was brooding. Maybe he was. The dark stubble on his cheeks and bags under his brown eyes made it clear he was driven and stressed. His thin lips spread into a brief smile as he recognized me too and stood from the long table to greet me.

He turned his head in either direction. “I picked this place because I figured we could talk in private. In the ten minutes I’ve been sitting here, a couple of guys from my unit have already come and gone. There’re another two FBI agents sitting in the mock living room in the back, reading the paper like they’re at home on their own couches. I feel like I’m a target of surveillance.”

“We can go somewhere else.”

He declined the offer. Bobby Patel had a certain childlike energy and antsiness I found endearing. I knew that look. It was the same one I got when I had leads on a major case.

Bobby said, “I’m exhausted from going out on useless leads. I hope you have some ideas. I’ve read about some of your cases and wish I worked with a guy like you.”

I’ll confess, working with a smart, young FBI agent wasn’t the worst idea. I doubted I’d ever have the trust I’d built with Emily Parker, but it was always good to have a contact with the Bureau.

The two FBI agents sitting in the back corner of the coffeehouse got ready to leave. I noticed Bobby tense slightly as they passed our table. The shorter of the two agents had a military-style haircut. His thick arms made me think he was compensating for his height. He said, “See you in the office, B.”

I asked, “Is that short for Bobby?”

Bobby Patel shook his head. “Somehow someone in my office discovered I won a spelling bee when I was twelve. I’m a black belt in judo too. No one ever brings that up.”

“Sorry, just naturally curious.”

Bobby shook his head and looked at the floor. “No, I’m sorry. I’m a little sensitive. People wrongly assume everyone of Indian descent studies hard, has strict parents and a crazy work ethic.”

“None of those sound like a negative.”

Bobby said, “I do work hard, but I never hear anyone say, ‘I want to party with the Indian guy.’ And everyone calls me Bobby, like I’m still a little kid.”

“What would you prefer to be called?”

Bobby stayed silent for a moment. When he looked up at me, his face was hard to read. Finally, he sighed and said, “Okay, I prefer Bobby. But you’re the only white guy who’s ever asked what I prefer.”

As we laughed together in the coffeehouse, I thought that of all the FBI agents in Washington, Bobby Patel seemed like the best one I could be teamed with. I made a quick assessment that this guy was all right.





Chapter 11



Then we got down to business. I asked Bobby about the rumors I’d heard of Emily Parker dating powerful men in Washington.

Bobby shook his head. “Everyone hears rumors. Emily can’t defend herself, so I ignore them. She’s a very effective agent, and we’re work friends. More like buddies. You know what I mean?”