I don't own Without a Trace or am in any way affiliated with it. Thanks to illman for being a terrific beta! Enjoy.

-

"You don't remember seeing anyone suspicious? Maybe someone you know was acting strangely?"

"No," Kevin Elliot said, one arm around his wife's back. He looked distraught, and Martin couldn't help but feel that his questions were coming across harsher than he intended them to sound. Whoever wrote the FBI handbook evidently didn't take into consideration the emotional turmoil that accompanied cases. "There was no one."

Danny's eyes reflected the sympathy Martin wished he could express as he asked, "Would you mind telling us what happened yesterday?"

Kevin's wife, Pauline, managed to pull herself together to answer: "I drove the girls to school. At three-thirty I picked up Jackie since Trish had a soccer game -- my friend Laura dropped her off here around five. I put the girls to bed and then . . . " She trailed off, trying to maintain her composure.

"I know this is hard for you, Mrs. Elliot, but you have to help us out, okay?" Danny's voice was firm but gentle, reassuring. "When did you notice she was missing?"

"Around seven, when I went to wake the girls up. I called the police as soon as I saw it," Kevin answered grimly.

Martin finished jotting down their statements and rose from his chair. "Thank you for your cooperation. We'll be in touch."

"So, what do you think?" Martin asked eagerly as he and Danny exited the house and buttoned their coats to shut out the last of winter's remaining cold.

"I think we should wait until we have suspects and evidence to back up a theory," Danny replied shortly, to Martin's surprise. Noticing the silence he received as they walked to the car, he added, "Sorry, I've just been kind of stressed lately."

His partner shook his head. "It's not a problem. Do you want to drive?"

Shaking his head, Danny looked anxiously at his watch. "Actually, uh, I've gotta check on something. Can I meet you back at the office in a half hour or so? I can take a cab."

"Sure. See you later."

-

"So what were you like in school?" Jack asked Vivian as they made their way down the poster-lined hallway of Green Groves Elementary School, hoping to take her mind off the case.

"Bookworm," she answered. Noticing the smirk on his face, she added, "What? I doubt you were any better."

"No, not really," he agreed as they reached the principal's office. The window outside the office was covered in green construction paper leaves attached to a thin brown trunk of brown paper. Each child had scrawled something on their leaf in order to celebrate the fact that spring was upon them, and Vivian smiled sadly as she remembered the last two cases -- the victims had gone to schools similar to Green Groves, and the decorations hung in the school were, for the most part, the same.

"Can I help you?" the secretary asked, hastily pushing aside the romance novel she had been reading.

Jack flashed his badge at her. "I'm Jack Malone, FBI. This is Special Agent Johnson." Vivian nodded at the receptionist. "Would you mind if we had a word with the principal of the school?"

"Hold on, I'll go get him." She said, rising and entering a room to the side, returning a minute later with Mr. Coppel. His dark hair and broad shoulders somehow made him look more like an athlete than an elementary school principal, and Jack looked at him with interest. Had he not met him here, he would have believed Samuel Coppel was one of the slick, smooth lawyers that angry clients often let loose on the FBI.

His attention was quickly drawn to Vivian as she broke the silence by repeating the same introductions Jack had made a few moments ago. "Would you mind if we had a word in private?" she added.

"Certainly," Samuel replied nervously, leading them into his office.

As soon as they were settled in front of Mr. Coppel's desk, Jack began to speak. "Mr. Coppel, we're here about Tricia Elliot."

"I assumed as much. Let me assure you, nothing of this magnitude has ever happened at Green Grove before, and we were in no way involved with her disappearance -- "

Jack nearly smirked. This guy was turning into a lawyer before his very eyes, but he guessed that now more than ever you had to be on your toes if you were going to be in the education field.

"We're here to inquire about the missing student, sir, not tarnish the reputation of this school." Vivian interrupted firmly, with an edge of sarcasm to her voice.

"I'm just protecting my investments. Do you know how hard it is to get a school like this up and keep it running?" Samuel replied stonily, a challenging look in his eyes.

Noting his partner's gritted teeth, Jack turned the principal's attention away from Vivian. "What is Tricia like in school?"

Relieved at the change of subject, Mr. Coppel replied, "She is a good student. Very active in her class, has lots of friends. She is on the soccer team, I think. If you want to know more you'll want to check with her teacher and her coach -- Ms. Barbara Reed and Mr. Edward Winters."

"We will." Jack finished copying down the names on his notepad before continuing. "Did either of them report any unusual behavior from Tricia recently?"

Samuel shook his head. "No, nothing like that. They only would have told me if it had been very serious, though. Otherwise they simply would have called home or taken it up with the guidance counselor."

Jack nodded and rose, placing his notepad in his pocket. "Thanks for your cooperation. We'll be in touch." He and Vivian exited the office, heading towards the front of the school.

"A student is missing and all he can think about are his 'investments'?" Vivian snorted. "Give me a break. What an asshole."

"Calm down." Jack replied. "We'll split up for now -- you take the teacher, I'll get the soccer coach. Meet you back here when we're done." Words of caution to stay calm nearly forced their way out of his mouth, but he managed to fight the urge to talk down to his partner. After all, Vivian was . . . well, Vivian. She was the only one on the team who could keep her head in a tough situation, and when she lost it the effects it had on the team were never good.

Glancing briefly at his watch, he headed off to the next interview.

-

"You look like you're having fun," Martin observed as he entered the office, promptly settling in his chair and kicking his feet up on his desk.

Samantha tore her eyes away from the endless words and numbers that were scrolling down the screen for a moment to look at her co-worker, than turned back. "Well, someone has to do it." Trying to maintain an optimistic attitude, she had to struggle to keep from voicing her true thoughts: This. Sucks.

"True," Martin agreed. "Find anything good yet?"

"All of the victims were girls ages six to eight. All came from middle-class families, went to good schools, and were straight-A students. The similarities end there."

He furrowed his brow. "So maybe we're not looking for a serial killer?"

"Try telling that to Viv."

"Yeah." He swung his feet down from the desk and ran his hand through his hair nervously before speaking: "You know, I could maybe help you with the workload or something. You know, help look in the files if you wanted any help . . . is there a certain one you want pulled up or something?" He didn't intend for his voice to come across as so nervous, but that was what happened when he was with Sam.

Facing the screen so Martin could not see the grin that was forming on her face, Sam smoothly took advantage of his offer. "Yeah, sure. Just search through the other cases, cross-reference people, look for general similarities, and pray for a hit."

"OK," he said before beginning to type.

They sat in awkward silence for a few more moments before Jack and Vivian came bustling in. "Hey, how'd the interviews go?" Sam asked, grateful for a diversion from her current task.

"Principal's a prick and everyone else is clueless." Vivian responded cynically.

"The teacher and coach say there was nothing strange going on -- everything was all right at home, she was doing great in school . . . " Jack paused. "Something doesn't seem right here. I don't think whoever did this was also tied to the other cases."

Trying to gently break the news to Vivian, who seemed taken aback at the possibility, Sam said, "I haven't found any similarities between the cases."

Viv sighed and sat down next to where Jack had taken a seat only a moment ago. "Well, I guess it's plausible that they aren't related." She admitted.

"Hey, guys?" Martin piped up, and all eyes in the room turned to him. "I think I found a link between the cases."

Sam groaned. "In what, five minutes? I've been doing this all afternoon, and -- "

Martin interrupted her before she could complain any more. "An Edward Winters lived in all three towns and coached soccer at either the schools of or surrounding the schools of the missing children."

Jack rose to his feet. "Let's go back and have another talk with Ed, shall we?"

As Vivian pulled on her coat and began heading downstairs, Sam also rose. "Jack, I've been pulling files all day. Can't I at least come help you with this?"

He hesitated for a brief moment. It was only an interview, and she would be with him and Vivian. She would be safer here, pulling files, but he couldn't deny her field work forever -- and besides, he knew she would defy him and his reasons to keep her in the office until the very end. His tone was gruff as he grudgingly answered her question. "Yeah."

He grabbed his coat and headed out the door as Sam followed.