As Gabriel had warned, there wasn't an office for me. For now he'd put me in his, at a table in the corner, with a chair wheeled in from the meeting room. Not what I expected. Nor what I particularly wanted.
After the tour, Lydia and I talked about Todd. She wanted to know if I'd like her to start trying to get me in to see him again. I said yes. The longer I waited, the more I wanted that visit, and if I was working for Gabriel, I could accept this as an employee benefit rather than a personal favor.
"It's not as easy as it should be, is it?" I said. "I know it can't be easy to walk into a maximum security prison and chat with a notorious serial killer, but . . ."
"You're his daughter. It should not be difficult at all. I couldn't even get an answer on why it was. The prison system can be a pain to work with, but this is odd. I kept hearing that a visit wasn't currently possible, and no one I speak to knows why. Unfortunately, they don't seem all that interested in finding out why, either."
"Could he be refusing to see me?"
"If so, they'd tell me. That's common enough."
"Could he be refusing but have asked them not to tell me?"
She shook her head. "No one there is going to do Todd Larsen any favors. It's a puzzle I haven't quite figured out, but I will."
"Thank you."
My first task was to read through Pamela's file, which Gabriel had updated after Chandler's arrest. The police were still investigating Chandler's case and not required to share what they'd learned yet.
"There isn't much new there," said a voice, echoing my thoughts as I read.
I looked up to see Gabriel filling the doorway, his shadow stretching nearly to the meeting room table. He looked exhausted. There were no bags under his eyes. No stubble on his face. His shirt and pants were as perfectly pressed. But there was a dullness to his eyes, stress lines around his mouth, a shaving nick on his jaw.
He looked around. "Why are you in here?"
"Bigger table for spreading papers. I'm profiling Chandler and the other six victims, as we'd discussed. I'll tidy up when I'm done, and if you need the room, just kick me out."
A faint tightening of his lips t
old me my excuse didn't cut it. He'd set me up in his office and I should damn well be where he put me.
He walked away. I took that as a dismissal until he called, "Olivia?" with an edge of irritation, and I realized he'd meant for me to follow him.
In his office, he told me what he'd learned about Ciara's disappearance. He'd spoken to the detective in charge. They'd confirmed my suspicions that she'd been a drug user. Addicted to meth for almost a year, according to her parents, which only made the police more certain she was alive, just lying low.
I'd compiled a list of people we could speak to--friends and teachers mostly. He promised we'd start those interviews next week. It wasn't as if Ciara was going anywhere, unfortunately.
My first day of work was exactly what I expected. While our conversation felt stiff and awkward and distant, I'd expected this, too. What I hadn't expected was how it would feel working under Gabriel. Under the guy who'd betrayed me. Twice.
I was collecting files before leaving for the day when Gabriel stopped me.
"Did I give you too much?" he asked.
"No. This is fine."
His pale eyes bored into mine, trying to read me. I resisted the urge to look away.
"It's been a long day," I said.
"Because it's almost seven. You could have left sooner."
"I didn't mean that. Just . . . If I look tired, it's not the work. I was up late talking to Rose." I forced a half smile. "Blame her."
He kept studying me. "It will get easier."
I don't want it to get easier. I don't want this to get comfortable, me working for you. I want things the way they were.
"It's fine," I said. "I'll see you Tuesday."