“She? Ms. Wright?”

“She prefers Sam.”

Sawyer shrugged. “Right. Not much to go on, Doc.”

“Got anything else? Besides me and Mr. Campos, I mean?” Her words fell heavy and firm.

Agent Sawyer scratched his chin, but then turned, nodding and giving a little flick of his finger, gesturing she should follow. He heard her sigh in frustration behind him, but at least, by the sound of her footsteps, she’d fallen into line.

“Better than nothing,” he said over his shoulder. He moved past the sergeant’s desk and toward one of the office spaces beyond the interrogation room. A few eyes darted up and over at the odd pairing of the therapist in sweats and the FBI agent in flannel and a baseball cap, but then Sawyer waved toward the sergeant with the pixie cut.

“Faber,” he said.

The sergeant glanced over her computer monitor, one hand gripping a steaming mug. She frowned. “Tom?” she said. She glanced toward the window as if double-checking the time of day, and then shook her head. “Christ, Tom, did you sleep at all last night?”

“Hmm. Look, I need some help from you guys.”

“It’s barely eight,” she muttered. “Gonna be mostly half-assed help.”

“Pair the asses,” Sawyer said. “I need some of your folk to check maps and aerial photography.”

“Where?”

“Surrounding area.”

“How surrounding, Tom?”

Agent Sawyer scratched his chin, glancing out the window himself for a moment, before clearing his throat. “Twenty-, thirty-mile radius.”

Faber let out a long, intentional sigh. She tilted her head back and stared at the popcorn ceiling tiles. “You’re joking.”

“’Fraid not.”

“All right… And what should I tell them we’re looking for?”

Sawyer jutted a thumb toward Dr. Beck in answer. The dark-haired woman stepped forward, nodding politely in greeting. Faber just raised an eyebrow, taking a long, loud sip off coffee.

“Hello, I’m Ilse.”

“Sergeant Faber. Nice to meet you. You’re the one who called in the missing person last night, yes?”

Ilse nodded quickly. “Yes, I am. She’s my client.”

“Client?”

“I’m a therapist.”

Sergeant Faber’s eyes widened in delight. “Oh, really? What are your rates? I’ve been looking for a new—”

Sawyer cleared his throat, and Faber shot him a nasty look. She sighed, amending her expression and returning her attention to Ilse. She paused for a moment, glancing toward the office space, the computers, then back at Tom. “Is she… she technically supposed to be back here?” Faber said, tilting her eyebrows significantly. She flashed an apologetic look toward Ilse, but returned her severe look to Sawyer.

Tom shrugged. Chasing down serial killers out in the field was one thing, but desk work? As far as he saw it, anyone with a pair of eyes and an attention span could help with desk work. “She’s a consultant.”

“Really? Because normally I’m the one who handles consultant paperwork. And I don’t remember—”

“She is,” Tom cut the sergeant off. “Forget the paperwork. Look, like you said—it’s morning. You saying your crew won’t appreciate another pair of eyes?”