Jim Gavin decides

Gavin looks at his daughter with unrelenting coldness, then turns to you, slipping his urbane veneer on as though it had never left.

"John, may I borrow your office for a bit? I think it's long past time my daughter and I had a serious chat."

You nod agreement, and grabbing your jacket and cell phone, leave your office. Meghan's desk is empty, her jacket and purse gone, her computer shut down.