"If the brother is compromising evidence, then that's obstruction.
You want him locked up, we'll lock him up."
"John wants to question him, sure. But I may have scared him off earlier. I was pretty tough on him. I had him roll some prints. My guess: He won't be showing up at work for a couple days. The other thing is, we don't know where he got this evidence.
At first, John was furious, and rightly so. But then we thought it through: If Neal had this stuff hidden, if Walker found this stuff hidden rather than in plain sight-it actually could help us build a case."
"That's playing with fire, and we both know it, Daffy. You don't want to get in the middle of this."
"I'm already in the middle. What I'd like is to get to one side, to let John be the center of this guy's attention. That takes a little manipulation with personalities like this. It can't be done all at once."
Boldt put down the pen and removed his reading glasses. A depth to his eyes drew her in. So much going on in there. "So how can I help?" he asked.
"Mersi-do and Mersi-don't," LaMoia said, entering Boldt's office without knocking. He hooked a chair with his boot, spun it around to face them and plopped down into it.
"We're discussing Daphne's being harassed, possibly stalked," Boldt said.
Hands in the air, LaMoia quipped, "It wasn't me," and flashed another trademark smile. "My recommendation is that Heiman and I kneecap Walker, and that's the end of it. He slides around the sidewalks on one of those little dollies for the next ten years. Teach him to mess with our family."
Matthews chuckled nervously.
"I'd prefer we play a little more in-bounds than that."
"Suit yourself. Save the taxpayers a wad." Looking at Matthews he said, "And I gotta tell you, it's one job I'd put my heart and soul into." He was openly flirting with her, and she wondered why that surfaced in front of Boldt, of all people.
She wasn't sure if she should share this or not, but if Boldt found out later that she'd withheld it, there would be hell to pay. "He made an indirect reference to Hebringer and Randolf."
Boldt stiffened. "Such as?"
"It was one of the phone messages. He said it was dangerous out there. That I didn't have to worry about that with him."
"Then I want you out of your houseboat. You'll take a hotel room courtesy of the department until we've had a chance to follow up."
"That's unnecessary." She had feared an overreaction.
Boldt reminded, "You found boot prints outside your window.
Whatever the situation, I want you off of that houseboat." To LaMoia: "With Walker mentioning the disappearances, I want him brought in for questioning."
"You're reaching, Lou, and we both know that. Listen, phoners rarely stalk; stalkers rarely phone. Two different patterns, two different personalities, and I'm thinking two different people."
"Walker and Prair," Boldt repeated. "But you don't know that!"
"Whoa, there," said LaMoia. "When did Prair get into this?"
Matthews explained most of her encounter at the parking garage-that "a witness" had seen a man in a khaki or brown uniform. She added, "An infatuation like Prair's is harmless, it's just annoying. Honestly, I'm more concerned about Walker's over eagerness to please. But connecting him to the disappearances?
That's unworthy of you."
"He made that connection for us," Boldt said.
"It's a daily news item, Lou. The whole city's talking about Hebringer and Randolf. Come on!"
LaMoia attempted to break the tension between them. "Nathan
Prair is not harmless," he said. "Just ask that motorist he iced."
Boldt spoke up quickly. "He was acquitted of that, John. It was found to be a good shooting."
"It was never a good shooting and the three of us damn well know it," LaMoia said.
An uncomfortable silence overtook them. LaMoia moved restlessly in the chair. "I'm with Sarge," he said. "The houseboat is too dangerous for you right now. I'll clean out my guest room. You'll stay with me until we make sense of this."
Matthews barked out her reaction, glancing at Boldt, who grinned.
"Talk about the wolf in sheep's clothing!"
LaMoia was not beyond laughing at himself. "I'm not going to hit on you. You-both of you-did me a favor awhile back. I'm returning it, that's all."
"Yeah, right," Matthews said. Her beeper sounded from inside her purse, silencing all three. Hesitation and expectation hung in the air: If LaMoia's or Boldt's pager went off within the next few seconds, then typically it meant a major crime. All three held their breath as Matthews inspected the device, the possibility of another Hebringer or Randolf on everyone's minds. Her shoulders relaxed. "The Shelter," she said. "Don't worry: I know what it's about."
"Consider the offer," LaMoia said.
She looked up at Boldt, anticipating another moment of shared amusement. Instead, Boldt said in all seriousness, "Consider the offer, or pick a hotel. You are not going back to that houseboat."
Silhouettes
A sense of relief washed through Matthews as she spotted Margaret across the cavernous basement room. The pregnant girl had returned to the same cot. These cots were as close as it got to something they could call home. She wanted to thank Sheila for paging her, but it would have to wait.
Margaret's eyes had sunk deeper into their sockets, as if the skin on her face were shrinking. Her hair was both tangled and flattened and oily. She caught Matthews studying her.
"Rough day at the office," the girl said, reacting to that stare.
"May I?" Matthews indicated the opposing bed.
"You're wasting your time."
"It's mine to waste," Matthews said.
Closing her eyes appeared difficult for Margaret, as if she might be in pain.
"Are you feeling okay?"
"Have you ever been pregnant?"
"No," Matthews said. "But I'd like to be sometime."
"Don't be so sure. It sucks. I feel sick most of the time. Unless I'm high. When I'm high, it's not so bad."
"When you're high," Matthews said, "your baby's high, too."
"Lucky her, him, whatever. You going to preach to me? "Cause if you are, maybe we could do this another time."
Sobriety was a requirement at the Shelter, but its definition remained unclear. Most of the girls arrived high. Anyone caught using while in residence was first counseled and consulted usually involving Matthews-but was kicked out on the second offense. Repeated violation of the rules won a girl a thirty-day ban from the premises. As a rule the staff tried to limit the proselytizing. Some of the Christian centers suffered for their evangelizing-the girls didn't want to hear that Jesus or anything else could save them. Nothing had saved them so far.
"No. Not going to preach," Matthews said. She tried to sound relaxed as she thought about health problems for the mother and neurological and other damage to the fetus.
"I didn't ask for this baby."
"It's beyond that now, like it or not."
"I knew you were the preachy type. You got that look, you know? Sister Teresa." She rolled her head, facing away on the pillow. "Please go away. I got a headache."
"And I've got a hole in my stomach, Margaret. This isn't about just you anymore. You can't ignore that baby. What about your grandparents?"
"Forget them, would you? There's a place south of Safeco. Once I've got a place ... it's gonna work out."
"I'd think twice about staying here in the city. You're underage.
There are people who prey on girls like you, Margaret. They'll have you dealing for them. You'll get arrested. Call your grandparents-they're your chance out of here."
"You know them real good, do you?"
"The baby will be born addicted. How fair is that?"