Phillip Stone pressed the phone to his ear and slowly let out his breath as he listened to his assistant's report.

"This is getting out of hand, Martin. Are you sure it's FBI? And they're getting together at her house? We need a bug in there or a directional mike. No, I don't want a confrontation. Try and get to her when she's alone - and Martin, if it looks as bad as it sounds- yes, that's what I mean. Keep me posted."

Phillip hung up and clenched his fists over the papers on his desk. All from one stupid computer generated phone call! How could they have let that happen?

He dialled a new number and waited. "Cletus, have you anything to report on that detective? That jibes with Martin's findings. I think we have to take extreme action to put the lid back on this whole mess. No! Christ no, not the FBI agent. That's the last thing we want, them crawling all over everything. There are other channels we can use to muffle him. Just watch for a bit more, but be prepared to act." He hung up and clenched his teeth.

******

"Agent Passmore called. We need to meet, all of us." I told Kristen that he couldn't talk over the phone but that if we could get together at her place, he would explain.

"This is getting a lot bigger than I thought it would. I don't really even want to be involved, I have a business that needs my attention."

"Just this one time to see what he wants and then we'll sign off. Can I call him back and say okay?"

"Bring dinner."

I should have started with that, I thought as I dialled the number Passmore gave me.

******

Kristen answered the door wearing a stylish sweater with a gold locket, a slim grey skirt, and heels. I must have looked surprised because she poked her tongue out when Passmore wasn't looking. Was this some kind of provocation? The FBI gets dress up, and the local cop gets a baggy sweat shirt? Then I remembered what else the local cop got, and my ego slunk back into its cave.

"Italian. Whose choice was that?" She said, wasting no time in dishing out the lasagne onto plates and carrying them to the table.

"Agent Passmore's," I said.

"Tom is fine. Since we seem to be on a social footing now."

"Good, I'm Ralph. The titles are a bit cumbersome."

"There's wine or liquor, and that's bread in the basket under the serviette" Kristen sat and carved off a slice of lasagne. I watched her lips, and blinked when she held out a salad bowl toward me.

"I made this at the last minute, so no critiques."

"I didn't expect a dining experience," Tom offered, "you've gone to a lot of work, salad, bread, wine." He took a helping of salad and bathed her in a charming smile.

Dinner progressed with no shop talk, but I was getting a little antsy about the reason for the meeting. His demeanour on the phone was anything but casual. We finally finished, bumped into each other carrying stuff to the kitchen, then, with coffees, we went to the living room.

"Just give me a minute if you don't mind." Tom said, and proceeded to move slowly about the room with a small gizmo in his hand.

"Is that--?" I started.

"Bug detector. Call me paranoid."

"You think somebody bugged my home?" Kristen said, archly.

"Just a precaution. What we are going to discuss can't leave this room." Tom did a few more checks then sat down, got comfortable and sipped his coffee.

"I hope this isn't just another social outing, Mr. Passmore." Kristen sat comfortably, her legs crossed, skirt rising a little.

Me - not so much. I yanked my attention to Tom and voiced agreement.

"Anything but," he said, solemnly. "When I got home from here the other day, my place had been tossed. All my documents on this case , along with some personal papers, were gone. All that's left is what I had with me - the stuff you gave me."

"You were robbed?" Kristen sat straighter. "What were the files doing in your home?"

I looked at her with a new dose of respect. Kristen didn't shrink from sharp perceptions.

"Despite what you see on TV, Miss Howard, we don't all sit in a big bullpen waiting for orders. Most of us work away from the office, on our own until there is enough proof of whatever to initiate warrants and charges."

"What about partners, and interviews?"

"I don't need a partner to interview someone. Case in point. Partners are for going after potentially dangerous suspects or situations that require backup."

"Do you think it was your people, Tom?" I asked, wondering if the FBI was being surveilled as well . . . at least if Tom Passmore was.

"I doubt it. More like a black bag job, except it wasn't secret."

"I assume that means it was done by someone in your profession."

"Yes, Miss Howard, I believe that's what it means." Tom nodded.

The interruption into my thoughts gave me another one. What the hell had we got ourselves into?

Kristen set down her cup and leaned forward lacing her fingers, the same stubborn look I first saw at the station.

"I think this would be a good time to tell us about the missing family, Agent Passmore."

"She's right, Tom. There's definitely a nasty rock out there somewhere that we have turned over."

"You realize if I do tell you everything we know, we will all be vulnerable to whoever is watching us now and whoever started this in the first place."

"We're talking nine years, Tom, and that's when they disappeared. Whatever happened had to be before that. Why would anyone be watching a telephone number that long?", I said, referring to Kristen's original call.

"It was a computer flag that prompted the call. When the Crawfords disappeared, their number was cancelled. It was reissued to Miss Howard, and when she used it after a couple of times, the flag popped up."

"Why not right away?"

"It has a redundancy built in so it doesn't answer wrong numbers. If it sees the number come up a few times it gets flagged.

"And it saw me using it - as I did - normally." Kristen said.

"Yes."

"I'll make some sandwiches and put on more coffee." Kristen left the room, leaving Tom and I looking bewildered.

"I think all the eating is a coping mechanism," I said.

"Before we're done she's gonna gain weight then - for sure." Passmore sagged back and closed his eyes.

Word count to this point - 6464