The Last Good Girl by Allison Leotta Page A

it.”
    â€œInteresting strategy for a sex-crimes prosecutor.”
    â€œYou’re sick, Randazzo.”
    â€œThat’s why you love me.”
    The FBI’s Michigan field office was a tall concrete building with a view of the Detroit People Mover. At three A.M. it wasn’t moving many people. Sam pulled into the underground garage.
    An impromptu command center had been assembled inside the FBI field office. A conference room was filled with agents in dark suits and computer technicians in khakis. They were talking softly, tapping on computers, picking through a bag of desiccated bagels. As Anna walked into the bustle, her eyes were caught by one person in particular: a handsome caramel-skinned man sitting at the head of the table. She stopped in the doorway and stared at her former fiancé.
    Jack was pointing to something on his computer, talking to two police officers. He wore a dark suit and blue tie; his hair was completely shaved, which gave him a tough-guy aura despite his buttoned-up clothes. Heading up the command center, he radiated authority and control. He looked like the man you’d want looking for your daughter.
    Sam cleared her throat, and Anna realized she was blocking the doorway. “Sorry,” she murmured, stepping out of Sam’s way. She was exhausted. She wasn’t prepared to see Jack for the first time in six months.
    He looked up from the computer, and their eyes met over the heads of the officers. For a moment, everyone else faded into the background. She only saw the man she loved—the one she’d planned to spend her life with—gazing at her with a tender smile. He got up and walked over to her. She looked up at his green eyes and remembered what it was like to wake with them as the first thing she saw in the morning.
    She stuck out her hand, projecting professional politeness as well as she could given her emotional state and sleep deprivation. “Nice to see you, Jack.”
    He smiled back, as if they were sharing an inside joke, which in a way, they were. He shook her hand with gentle formality. “Nice to see you too, Anna. Thanks for agreeing to join the team.”
    His hands felt warm after the cold outdoors. She saw that he was still wearing the watch she’d given him. On the back, she’d had inscribed: I want to spend all my time with you. Her left thumb touched her ring finger, the empty space the diamond engagement ring used to encircle. For a while, it had been like a phantom limb—her thumb would go to tap it, to connect with the security and safety it represented, and for a moment, she’d be panicked to find that it was gone. Had she lost it? Was it stolen? Then she’d remember handing it back to Jack when they broke up, and she’d feel a greater sense of loss than any jewelry theft could cause. She wondered where the ring was now.
    Sam was watching as she poured coffee. Anna realized the handshake had gone on too long. She drew her hand away from Jack’s.
    â€œGlad to help,” she said. “First things first. Has anyone eaten anything besides bagels all day?”
    Jack shrugged and looked at the crumpled Bruegger’s bag like it was the first time he’d noticed it. “We’re mostly running on coffee and adrenaline.”
    â€œNo one can do their best work on an empty stomach. I’m ordering pizza.”
    She pulled out her phone, turned away, and called for Domino’s to deliver ten extra-larges. She used the time to take a deep breath and refocus herself. When she hung up and turned back to Jack, she pointed at his computer.
    â€œWhat leads have you got?” she asked.
    He led her to the laptop and gestured for her to sit next to him.
    â€œUnfortunately, not much.” His voice was so deep it resonated inside her chest. “The purse and shoe are the last best signs of her. There’s no video of her anywhere after the ones you saw. No activity on her e-mail,