At Parker Center she had waited in this interview room, running her hands over the steel eyebolt secured to the scarred wooden table. The eyebolt, she supposed, was used for handcuffing prisoners. That was what she wasa prisoner, held captive by Justin Gray, her future dependent on the unpredictable workings of his mind.
When Wolper finally entered, carrying a portable tape recorder and a Styrofoam cup of water for her, he wore the tired, bemused look of a man who had won a bureaucratic battle. She imagined he'd had to fight to stay on the investigation. The case was a big one. A lot of people would want to be in on it. And Wolper was out of his territory and off duty, to boot. Still, he was the one who interviewed her. There probably were other people watching from behind the mirror, maybe even videotaping the session through the oneway glass, but she didn't care.
Wolper turned on the tape recorder and recited the date and time. He had her give her name, then led her gently through her session with Gray, the shutdown of the MBI gear, then the sudden movement in the shadows. She glossed over her period of unconsciousness, still afraid she would be sent to the hospital if anyone found out about that.
"When did Gray kill Deputy Rivers?" Wolper asked.
Rivers. So that was the man's name. "After he knocked me down."
"You didn't shout for help, alert him somehow?"
She compromised with the truth. "I was woozy, disoriented. It all happened very fast."
"Did you see him kill the deputy?"
"No, I was amp; stunned."
"When he returned to you, was he wearing the deputy's pants over his jumpsuit?"
"Yes."
"If he had time to change, you must've been woozy for a couple of minutes."
Guilt made her impatient. "I wasn't timing it with a stopwatch," she snapped.
"All right." He let it go. "So Gray came back to take your jacket."
"Yes."
"And your wallet and car keys."
"Yes."
"But he didn't hurt you."
"He threatened me. But no, he didn't do anything."
"Kind of weird, isn't it? I mean, he's just murdered Deputy Rivers in cold blood. Then he comes back into the office and treats you with kid gloves."
"If that's how you describe having a screwdriver held to your throat."
"My point is, he could have killed you. He didn't."
"So?"
"So maybe this therapy of yours has actually had some effect."
Oddly, this particular thought had never occurred to her.
"He killed the deputy," she said slowly, "and he's abducted Meg."
"He killed the deputy because he had to. It was kill or be killed. As for your daughter, we don't know what he's thinking or what he'll do. If he let you live, it could mean he's having second thoughts about killing. It could mean he'll hesitate before hurting Meg."
"I'd like to believe that."
"Did you feel you were making progress with him?"
"I thought so, but he wasn't exactly the type to share his feelings."
"Hostile?"
"Sarcastic. Manipulative. Not as hostile as amp;" As Brand, she nearly said. But it wouldn't be appropriate to discuss Brand's treatment here, especially if other cops were listening on the other side of the mirror.
Still, the thought lingered. Brand amp;
"Robin?" Wolper was watching her. "You okay?"
She shook off whatever idea had half formed in her mind. "I've gone over this enough," she said.
"Yeah, I think you have."
"So what do we do now?" she whispered.
"We wait," Wolper said.
He had been right about that. They sat together for a while, bound by awkward silence, until he found an excuse to leave. Then she'd been alone. From beyond the closed door of the interview room came sounds of activityfootsteps, ringing phones, shouts, the slamming of doors and the sizzle of radios. She registered these noises distantly, like the confused memories of a dream.
Wolper returned twice with updates. The LAPD was working with the Sheriff's Department to set up roadblocks on desert roads near the previous crime scenes. All local law-enforcement agencies had been alerted to look for the Saab, for Gray, and for Meg. Hammond had gone public with an official statement on the escape and the abduction, though without mentioning Robin or Meg by name. Interviews of neighbors at the condo building had turned up nothing, and no clues had been found at her homeno indication of when or how Meg had been kidnapped or when she'd been taken.
There was nothing for Robin to do. But she couldn't just sit here. The enforced inactivity would make her crazy.
She fished her cell phone out of her purse and called Mrs. Grandy.
"Oh, dear, I've been talking to the police," the woman said after Robin identified herself. "Is Meg amp;? Has something happened?"
"She's missing. She's been abducted."
"Oh, dear, dear amp;"
"You didn't see anything, I take it?" Robin knew Mrs. Grandy spent a good deal of her time sitting by the window, and she missed little of what went on in the courtyard below.
"Not a thing, I'm so sorry. I wasn't feeling well today, and I was lying down for most of the day. That's what I told the officers."
Robin had figured as much. There was no reason that she would be able to obtain information the police had overlooked. "Well, I just wanted to ask. If you remember anything"
"I wish I could help, dear. Has your husband been told yet?"
Dan. Robin had forgotten about him. She felt a pang of guilt. "No. I'd better let him know."
"Is he still in town?"
"Still? He hasn't been in LA in months. He lives in Santa Barbara."
"Wasn't he here yesterday?"
Robin blinked. "Well, no. Not that I know of. What makes you say that?"
"I just assumed that's who Meg was with."
"When?"
"Yesterday afternoon."
"You're saying someone was with Meg yesterday?"
"Why, yes. A man came to visit. Nicely dressed, jacket and tie. I've never met your husband, of course, but I thought it must be him."
"So it wasn't a high school student? One of Meg's friends?"
"Oh, certainly not. This man was about forty, I'd say. Wasn't it your husband?"
"I don't think so. Did you get a look at him?"
"My eyes aren't what they used to be. He had dark hair. I noticed that much. I think he was tall. Taller than Meg, when they stood together in the doorway. And she's getting to be quite tall for her age."
Dan was blond and not very tall. It didn't sound like him. "Did you see anything else?"
"Not really. Meg let him in. They seemed to know each other. They were talking. I didn't see him leave. I take my tea in the afternoon, you know, so I may have been in the kitchen amp;"
"Okay, Mrs. Grandy. Thanks."
"Should I have told this to the police? I didn't think"
"No, I'll take care of it. The police may want to talk to you again. Thanks very much."
Robin ended the call and sat unmoving for a minute.
Meg had received a visitor yesterday afternoon. A tall man with dark hair, a man of about forty in a jacket and tie.
What the hell was that all about?
She didn't know. She couldn't think. Maybe it was Dan, making contact on the sly, and Mrs. Grandy had gotten the details wrong. But why would Meg neglect to mention a visit from her father? The two of them weren't close. It made no sense.
She could call Dan, tell him what had happened, feel him out amp;
No, not yet. There was another call to make first.
She speed-dialed her home number. A man's voice answered. "Officer Pierce."
"This is Robin Cameron. It's my house you're in."
"Yes, ma'am?"
"I wonder if I could speak to whoever's in charge."