“Maybe you and I should step outside, so we don’t disturb Amanda, and talk this over,” Melanie said to Nell. If this woman put up a fight, Melanie would need to get tough. She wasn’t sure if Amanda knew what was going on around her, but she didn’t want to risk alienating an eyewitness by strong-arming her mother.
“I don’t need to talk it over. I don’t want her interrogated while she’s under the influence of sedatives.”
“Just so you understand, Mrs. Benson, we have no intention of interrogating Amanda,” Melanie said. “This poor girl is not a suspect. She’s the victim of a terrible crime. And the animal who committed it, who murdered your husband, is still at large. We have reason to believe he’ll go after the witnesses to his crime, including Amanda. We’re doing everything in our power to catch him before that happens. We only want to talk to her so we can protect her better.”
Nell maneuvered so that she was standing between Melanie and the bed. “Don’t try to go around me,” she said. “She’s underage. I’m her mother. I’ll decide what’s in her best interests. How can I let her be questioned when she’s in this condition?”
“Please, Mrs. Benson, at least let us try! Amanda may have information that could lead us to your husband’s killers.”
“No! I said no, I mean no! I won’t allow it!”
“Mrs. Benson, either your daughter speaks with us voluntarily or I subpoena her to testify before the grand jury. Believe me, that won’t be an easy experience for her. After what she’s been through, I’d hate to do it, but I will if you force me to. That’s how much I believe it’s necessary to protect her.”
Nell Benson studied Melanie’s face. Melanie stared back, standing her ground, letting Nell see she meant business.
“Maybe we should talk privately outside,” Nell conceded.
“Certainly.”
When Melanie and Randall both moved toward the door, Nell said, “I meant just you, Miss Vargas.”
“Detective Walker is part of this investigation, too.”
“No problem,” Randall said mildly. “I’ll take a load off, rest my feet for a few minutes.” He folded his tall frame into an orange plastic chair in the corner of the room.
“Don’t you talk to her while I’m gone!” Nell tossed over her shoulder as they left.
MELANIE LED NELL BENSON TO A SPARTAN WAITING area she’d noticed on her way in. Eight orange plastic chairs stood along a wall facing a noisy elevator bank, next to two enormous snack and soda machines. The chairs were empty. Melanie motioned Nell to sit down.
“Can I get you a soda, Mrs. Benson?”
“That would be great. I haven’t had anything to eat or drink all day.”
“Come to think of it, neither have I.” Melanie looked at her watch. She would’ve guessed it was still morning, but it was past four o’clock already. She didn’t have much change, but luckily the machines took dollar bills. She got two Diet Cokes and two Drake’s Coffee Cakes.
“Sorry, this is the best I could do,” she said.
“No need to apologize,” Nell said. “I love these things. Gives me an excuse to eat them.”
Nell ripped open the cellophane with her teeth and broke a piece off one of the coffee cakes. Melanie sat down and watched her devour it, brushing away the crumbs that fell on her expensive suit. Chanel. She recognized it by the intertwined Cs on the buttons. Those things cost a mint. Qué lástima, because Melanie would have liked to own one herself. Eating at such a time seemed bizarre to her. She’d barely known Jed Benson, her daughter wasn’t lying maimed in a hospital bed, yet she didn’t feel hungry in the least. Then again, she should give the poor widow a break. It didn’t necessarily mean anything. People reacted to grief in different ways.
“Mrs. Benson, I understand your reluctance to let us speak to your daughter. I’m a mother, too. Your first instinct is to protect your child. But there’s a lot more to fear from this killer’s remaining at large than from our talking to Amanda.”
“Are you going to eat that?”
“No. Please.” She handed Nell the second coffee cake, then popped open the Diet Coke and sipped at it. The bitterly cold liquid set a vein in her temple to pounding. “As I was saying-”
“I heard you the first time. Look, Miss Vargas, I’m going to be completely frank with you. What I’m about to say is highly personal.” Nell glanced around to make sure they were alone, then leaned toward Melanie, lowering her voice. “My daughter is a very fragile girl, Miss Vargas. Please understand. I can’t have her interviewed. Before I could let you speak to her, I’d need to consult her psychiatrist.”
“What exactly is the problem?”
“Amanda is very troubled. Drugs, bulimia-you name it. I placed her in an inpatient program at Wellmead. You know, up in Connecticut. It’s a lovely facility. Girls from some very prominent families go there. It’s almost like a summer camp, really. But Jed went and signed her out! He was such an indulgent father. He refused to accept that her problems were serious. I just keep thinking, if only he hadn’t done that! She’d still have her fingers, for Chrissakes!”
Nell started to cry, sniffling vigorously, intercepting her tears with her fingertips before they could smudge her mascara. Melanie found a tissue in her bag and handed it to Nell. Tears welled up in her own eyes as it hit her what Nell was going through. She knew what it was like when ugly, despicable violence invaded your home, sneaked up on you, changed your life forever. She’d experienced that as a child, and now here was Nell Benson experiencing it as a wife and mother. Her husband murdered, her daughter horribly maimed. God, what could be worse? Melanie had fantasized Steve’s violent death more than once lately, but she knew she didn’t mean it. If it really happened, how would she face it, how would she go on? And to think of her baby daughter harmed, some part of her precious, pudgy little body cut-she couldn’t imagine such grief. She could hardly stand it when Maya had the slightest cold. She reached out and stroked Nell’s shoulder, overwhelmed by sympathy. Almost instinctively Nell shrugged off Melanie’s hand.
“I’m fine, really,” Nell said. She struggled to regain her composure, clearing her throat and sitting up straighter.
Stung, Melanie pulled her hand away. This woman was one tough customer. She obviously did not like to be touched.
“Take your time,” Melanie said, in a cooler tone.
“Okay. I’m better.” Nell forced a smile.
Melanie was starting to lose patience. Every minute she wasted with Nell was another minute Slice was on the street.
“Thank you for telling me about Amanda, Mrs. Benson. I completely understand your concern, but I still have to talk to her. She’s an eyewitness. There’s simply no way around it. I promise you, I’ll be very gentle.”
“Don’t you understand? My daughter may become suicidal after what she’s seen. Do you want that on your conscience?”
“Why would it be on my conscience? I didn’t kill your husband. I’m just trying to catch the man who did.” The attempt to manipulate her was obvious and upsetting. Melanie had to remind herself that Nell had just lost her husband and might not be thinking rationally.
“At the very least, I insist on having her psychiatrist present.”
“How long would that take?”
“I’m really not sure. He’s at Wellmead. I’d have to call and inquire.”
“It’s four-thirty now. I can postpone interviewing Amanda until later tonight to give you time to get the psychiatrist here.”
“I can’t commit to that. I have no reason to think he’s even available tonight.”