I broke the silence. “The landfill John Doe showed signs of ricin poisoning. Wayne Gamble shows signs of abrin poisoning. Cindi Gamble and Cale Lovette disappeared in 1998. Ted Raines has now vanished. You believe these facts are interrelated?”

“That is correct.”

“How?”

“The FBI would very much like to know.”

“Why did the FBI order my John Doe torched?” Larabee spat the letters as though they were a bad taste on his tongue.

“That is hardly a fair assessment.”

“Why was the Lovette-Gamble file confiscated?” I asked.

“I cannot confirm bureau involvement in that.”

“You had that one all loaded up.” Larabee was growing more steamed with each of Williams’s evasive replies. “Tell me, then. What is the FBI doing to resolve this whole mess?”

“The bureau is working with local law enforcement to determine Mr. Raines’s whereabouts.”

“Probably six feet under, like Gamble and Lovette and the poor slob from the landfill.”

Williams ignored Larabee’s outburst.

“With the consent of Mr. Raines’s wife, experts are searching the hard drive from his home computer. Unfortunately, his laptop goes with him when he travels. Mr. Raines’s cell phone records are also under scrutiny.”

“Unfortunately, his cell phone goes with him when he travels.” Larabee’s sarcasm had the atomic weight of lead.

“We have established that Raines’s mobile was not used after Monday last week. A call was made from Charlotte to the Raines’s home landline. We are also looking at the GPS on Raines’s second vehicle.”

“Which, unfortunately, was in his driveway when the poor schmo fell off the planet.” Larabee stood, anger barely in check. “This is bullshit. Get back to me when you’re ready to share what you learned by stealing my stiff.”

Williams and Randall rose, smiled tightly, and took their leave.

Back in my office I had not one but two phone messages. Both were unexpected.

I returned the calls in the order in which they came in. And slammed into yet more anger.

“Galimore.” Curt.

“It’s Dr. Brennan.”

“Oh. Sorry. Didn’t check the caller ID.”

“I was surprised to hear from you. Figured you’d be completely jammed up with the situation at the Speedway.”

“They’ve turned me into a goddamn traffic cop!” Galimore sounded furious. “The bastards won’t let me anywhere near the garage area. Did you know there’s some question Gamble died by accident?”

“Yes.”

“Hallelujah! Everyone’s in the loop but the head of security!”

“Williams and Randall were here.”

“The freaking FBI. This happened on my patch. And what do I get to do? Freaking crowd control!”

“You going to break down now?”

“What?”

“It’s manly and all. But I’m not good with tears.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Getting in touch with your feminine side.”

For a moment I heard nothing but background noise. Then Gali-more chuckled. “You’re a real wiseass, you know that.”

“Yes. Why did you call?”