"Is the lieutenant in his office, Jackie?" Jessie asked her boss's secretary.
"He is. Let me tell him you're here," she said. She walked to the man's office and returned a few minutes later. "Okay," Jackie said, walking out, "Go ahead, Jess. He said he'll see you now."
She could feel the excitement of what she wanted to discuss, pumping through her veins. She hoped he would agree.
"Good morning, Lieutenant. Thanks for seeing me. I have something I want to run by you."
"Sure. C'mon in and have a seat," he gestured.
Lieutenant Webster was a rugged-looking man, probably in his late forties. With premature white hair and rosy cheeks, he reminded her of Santa Claus, except he was tall and slender. He extended his hand. "How are things in the department?" he asked.
"Good."
"What's on your mind?"
"I'd like to open a cold case."
"Which one?"
"Justin Cavanaugh, missing since 2005."
"What new evidence do you have?"