"Yeah. The prints match."
"Well, that's something," Highsmith said. "If we can get a match between those tire tracks and one of Darius's cars…"
"And if we can find Nancy Gordon," Page said, staring into the pit. He desperately wanted Gordon to be alive, but he had been in the business of violent death and lost hopes too long to grasp at straws.
Chapter Eight.
"Detective Lenzer, this is Alan Page from Portland, Oregon. We talked the other day."
"Right. I was going to call you. That file you asked for is missing. We switched to computers seven years ago, but I did a search anyway. When I couldn't find it listed, I had a secretary go through the old files in storage.
There's no file card and no file."
"Did someone check it out?"
"If they did, they didn't follow procedure. You're supposed to fill in a log sheet in case someone else needs the file, and there's no log entry,"
"Could Detective Gordon have checked it out? She had a fingerprint card with her. It probably came from the file."
"The file isn't with her stuff in the office and it's against departmental policy to take files home unless you log them out. There's no record showing anyone logged it out. Besides, if there were six dead women it would be the highest victim count we've ever had here. We're probably talking about a file that would take up an entire shelf Maybe more. Why would she be lugging around something that big? Hell, you'd need a couple of suitcases to get it home."
Page thought that over. "You're certain it's not in storage and just misplaced?"
"The file's not in storage, believe me. The person who looked for it did a real thorough job and I even went down there for a while."
Page was silent for a moment. He decided to tell Lenzer everything.
"Detective Lenzer, I'm pretty sure Nancy Gordon's in danger. She may even be dead."
"What?"
"I met her for the first time two nights ago and she told me about the Hunter's Point murders. She was convinced the man who committed them is living in Portland under a different name, committing similar crimes here.
"Gordon left my apartment a little after midnight and took a cab to a motel. Shortly after checking in, she left in a hurry. We found an address on a pad in her motel room. It's a construction site. We searched it and discovered the bodies of three missing Portland women and an unidentified man. They were tortured to death. We have no idea where Gordon is, and I'm thinking she was right about your killer being in Portland."
"Jesus. I like Nancy. She's a little intense, but she's a very good cop."
"The key to this case could be in the Hunter's Point files. She may have brought them home. I would suggest searching her house."
"I'll do anything I can to help."
Page told Lenzer to call him anytime, gave him his home number, then hung up. Lenzer had characterized Gordon as intense and Page had to agree. She was also dedicated. Ten years on the trail and still concerned with that fire. Page had been like that once, but the years were getting to him. Tina's affair and the divorce had sucked him dry emotionally, but he had been losing ground even before her infidelity took over his life. Fighting for the office of district attorney had been great. Every day was exciting. Then he woke up one morning with the responsibilities of the job and the fear that he might not be able to fulfill them. He had mastered those fears through hard work, and he had mastered the job, but the thrill was gone. The days were all getting to be the same, and he was starting to think about what he would be doing ten years down the road.
The intercom buzzed and Page hit the com button.
"There's a man on line three with information about one of the women who was killed at the construction site," his secretary said. "I think you should talk to him."
"Okay. What's his name?"
"Ramon Gutierrez. He's the clerk at the Hacienda Motel in Vancouver, Washington."
Page hit the button for line three and talked to Ramon Gutierrez for five minutes. When he was done, he called Ross Barrow, then headed down the hall to Randy Highsmith's office. Fifteen minutes later, Barrow picked up Highsmith and Page on the corner and they headed for Vancouver.
"Can I watch TV?" Kathy asked.
"Did you have enough pizza?"
"I'm stuffed."
Betsy felt guilty about dinner, but she had put in an exhausting day in court and didn't have the energy to cook.
"Is Daddy going to come home tonight?" Kathy asked, looking up at Betsy expectantly.
"No," Betsy answered, hoping Kathy would not ask her anymore about Rick.
She had explained the separation to Kathy a number of times, but Kathy would not accept the fact that Rick was most probably never going to live with them again.
Kathy looked worried. "Why won't Daddy stay with us?"
Betsy picked up Kathy and carried her to the living room couch.
"Who's your best friend?"
"Melanie."
"Remember the fight you two had, last week?"
"Yeah."
"Well, Daddy and I had an argument too. It's a serious one. just like the one you had with your best friend."
Kathy looked confused. Betsy held Kathy on her lap and kissed the top of her head.
"Melanie and me made up. Are you and Daddy going to make up?"
"Maybe. I don't know right now. Meanwhile, Daddy is living someplace else."
"Is Daddy mad at you because he had to pick me up at day care?"
"What made you ask that?"
"He was awful mad the other day and I heard you arguing about me."
"No, honey," Betsy said, hugging Kathy tight to her.
"This doesn't have anything to do with you. It's just us.
We're mad at each other."
"Why?" Kathy asked. Her jaw was quivering.
"Don't cry, honey."
"I want Daddy," she said, sobbing into Betsy's shoulder. "I don't want him to go away."
"He won't go away. He'll always be your daddy, Kathy. He loves you."
Suddenly Kathy pushed away from Betsy and wriggled off her lap.
"It's your fault for working," she yelled.
Betsy was shocked. "Who told you that?"
"Daddy. You should stay home with me like Melanie's mom."
"Daddy works," Betsy said, trying to stay calm. "He works more than I do."
"Men are supposed to work. You're supposed to take care of me."
Betsy wished Rick was here so she could smash him with her fists.
"Who stayed home with you when you had the flu?" Betsy asked.
Kathy thought for a moment. "You, Mommy," she answered, looking up at Betsy.
"And when you hurt your knee at school, who came to take you home?"
Kathy looked down at the floor.
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
"An actress or a doctor."
"That's work, honey. Doctors and actresses work just like lawyers. If you stayed home all day, you couldn't do that work."
Kathy stopped crying. Betsy picked her up again.
"I work because it's fun. I also take care of you.
That's more fun. I love you much more than I like my Work. It's no contest. But I don't want to stay home all day doing nothing while you're at school. It would be boring, don't you think?"
Kathy thought about that.
"Will you make up with Daddy, like I did with Melanie?"
"I'm not sure, honey. But either way, you'll see plenty of Daddy. He still loves you very much and he'll always be your dad.
"Now, why don't you watch a little TV and I'll clean up, then I'll read you another chapter of The Wizard of oz."
"I don't feel like TV, tonight."
"Do you want to help me in the kitchen?"
Kathy shrugged.
"How about a hot chocolate? I could make one while we're cleaning the dishes."
"Okay," Kathy said without much enthusiasm. Betsy followed her daughter into the kitchen. She was too small to have to carry the heavy burden of her parents' problems, but she was going to anyway. That was the way it worked and there was nothing Betsy could do about it.
After they were finished in the kitchen, Betsy read Kathy two chapters of The Wizard of Oz, then put her to bed. It was almost nine o'clock.