UNSEEN by John Michael Hileman

up?"
    She looked up at him and scowled. "Why did you bring him?"
    " Nice to see you too, Hol," said Dan.
    Jake got between them. "Dan came because he wants to help."
    Her laugh sounded more like a spit. "Yeah, I bet he does."
    Jake grabbed Dan by the arm and pulled him away. "Do you and my sister know each other?"
    Dan looked over his shoulder, then whispered to Jake, "I may, or may not, have sent your sister a love letter extolling my unending love and adoration for her—in the eighth grade."
    " And you didn't think this was something I would want to know?"
    His face scrunched up. "It was a non-event, Jake."
    " It doesn't feel like a non-event."
    " Why? Do you think she likes me?" he said, raising his brow.
    Jake punched him in the chest. "This is serious, Dan. My nephew has been kidnapped."
    Dan rubbed the spot. "I'm sorry I had a thing for your sister in the eighth grade. I didn't think she would even remember it. Do you want me to go sit in the car?"
    " I want you to be serious for once in your life."
    " Humor is my self defense mechanism. I didn't mean anything by it."
    Besides his weird compulsion to clean and order junk, Dan also had a peculiar need to make light of stressful situations. His own family had once disavowed him for making an insensitive remark at his aunt's funeral. He was asked to say a few words and had taken the opportunity to note that the body in the casket could not possibly be his aunt's—because her makeup was on straight.
    Dan's problem was not a complete lack of empathy but an uncontrollable compulsion. Jake understood that, and under normal circumstances, was quicker to forgive, but today was anything but normal.
    Jake stabbed Dan in the chest with two fingers. "Just keep your crazy thoughts to yourself and be helpful. Okay?"
    Dan nodded solemnly.
    Jake turned back to his sister. "Do you want Dan to leave?"
    Dan piped in with, "I'm sorry about the whole 'undying love letter' thing in eighth grade, in fact, I'm sorry about eighth grade in general."
    She took a drag off her smoke. "What letter?"
    His eyes darted left and right. "You're not mad at me about the letter?"
    Her mouth pinched at one end. "I'm just not in the mood for your weird sense of humor. It's been a rough morning, Dan."
    " Fair enough," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.
    Jake put a foot up onto the bottom step. "Look, we just want to help. Is there anything we can do?"
    She shrugged.
    " Have you heard anything positive?"
    " Not yet, it's been mostly interrogations."
    On cue, a slightly heavy, blond, blue-eyed woman in a white dress shirt and dark blue dress pants stepped out onto the front porch. On her belt was a holstered gun and in the center of her chest hung her FBI credentials. She was looking directly at Jake. He acknowledged her with a subtle nod of his head.
    " I'm Special Agent Angela Grant. You must be Jake."
    " Yes ma'am." He climbed to the top of the stairs, shook her hand, and stepped back. "FBI, huh."
    " Yes. We're brought in on cases like this when incidents occur in several states."
    " Is there any news about Gabe?"
    " We're working leads, but no arrests have been made."
    " Is there anything I can do?"
    " You haven't been around in over a year, is that correct?"
    Jake glanced at his sister. "Yes, ma'am. My sister and I don't see much of each other—because of our schedules."
    " Then we're all set for the moment." She handed him a card. "Call my office if you see or hear anything suspicious."
    He took the card and stared at it. The weight of her words, and her posturing, made it clear that his presence was not required. He was an absent brother, and as far as the government was concerned, he could continue to stay absent—even though he was here now, willing to be available for his sister in her time of need. He had made the effort, but it didn't matter.
    A revving engine caused everyone on the porch to look up and watch as a television news van stopped in front of the building.
    The uniformed