“I think you got it all.” Her concise summary laid it out well.

“And once the FBI is involved, Sullivan plans to continue paying you both?” Ryland asks, moving on to address the business at hand.

“Ultimately, that’s up to Jack Sullivan, but it’s my understanding he wants as many resources as possible working to bring his daughter home.”

“What are you doing?” He directs his question to Alex. “Are you a profiler, like your pops?”

“I’m a criminal and behavioral psychologist. And, as I said, I am a family friend of the Sullivans. Sophia’s mother was a close friend of mine. I’ll be involved, paid or unpaid, until she’s found.”

“Dr. Rolfe is a value to the team. Do you have a specific concern we need to address?” Agent Ryland is making me regret ever asking him up here.

“No. Nepotism is interesting to me.” Alex opens her mouth at the insult.

“There’s no nepotism. I don’t give a damn about her father, and I’d hire her on her own merit.”

Ryland holds his hand up as if I have a gun pointed at him. I don’t, but I’d halfway like to. His behavior is bizarre to me. Why does he care so much about her father?

“Didn’t mean to step out of line.” He pulls out his phone and checks it. “I need to head out. I’ll look for your text with those names.” He stands. I push my chair back and face him. “How well do you know Jack Sullivan?”

“We went to the Naval Academy together,” I answer. I do not offer that I hadn’t seen him in over a decade.

He nods. It is a thoughtful nod, one that says he is thinking things he doesn’t intend to share. But his question implies his haze of suspicion is directed Sullivan’s way. I don’t blame him. The San Diego Police Department met with Sullivan multiple times. He’s the father and bound to fall under scrutiny.

After saying our goodbyes to Ryland, I tap on Erik’s office door.

“If Sullivan Arms were doing something illegal, like selling guns in some illegal manner, how would you go about finding that out?”

Erik wheels his chair away from the five monitors across his desk, and his head appears to the side of the last monitor.

“You mean, other than asking him? Are we not trusting Sullivan?”

“I’d trust him with my life. Doesn’t mean he, or his company, hasn’t broken federal laws.”

“Well, pull up chairs. Let’s brainstorm what data we need. I’ll make sure I have resources gathering it. How’d that meeting go with the FBI?”

I pull out a chair and shake my head at my friend and business partner. “Fine.”

“I’ll reach out to one of the forensic accountants we use. Would Sullivan give us access to his books, or do we need to hack in?”

Alex’s eyes widen.

“We probably won’t find anything. It’s a public company,” I say. Of course, public companies get caught in illegal transactions all the time. But there is no need for my slender law-abiding sleuth to worry at this stage. Right now, this is pure speculation. A broad hunt.