“Six years,” Boldt said, his throat dry. “Yes, I would have.”
“The tape wasn’t the only thing in my safe. Every scrap of information pertaining to this case was in there with it, most of it burned to disk. All of it gone now. Destroyed? I don’t know. This is the first I’ve heard about the tape resurfacing.” A pause as Foreman added it up. “So they got to Liz again. That’s what you’re telling me.”
In fact, Boldt was telling him more than he wanted to, the result of allowing his emotions to play into this. “Was it the only tape? Of them?”
“Yes.”
“And Geiser’s prints?”
“I can’t answer that,” Foreman said. “News to me. My guess would be that all the tapes at some point crossed his desk. I don’t have a specific memory of Liz’s tape being grouped with the others. I do remember clearly the first time I saw it, and the realization-the need-to protect you, if possible. My memory is that I got this tape out of the group. But they were numbered at the time, you know? And I can see me keeping tabs on it, but including it, so nothing fishy surfaced-a tape being noticed missing-and maybe it was in the stack that crossed Paul’s desk. Early on, as inventory was being matched against the warrant. Something like that.”
Boldt didn’t like the explanation-it felt to him as if Foreman were making this up on the fly-but he accepted it for the time being.
“I feel a little sick,” Boldt said.
“Probably the air. It stinks in here.”
“You must have surveillance notes putting Liz with Hayes last week.” He wondered if they’d met here at the cabin. Was Foreman aiming to involve Liz?
“No. I wasn’t watching this place.”
Was this credible? Boldt wondered. A location under surveillance six years earlier and Foreman doesn’t chase it down when the man’s released from prison?
“I sat on the rental-the mobile home-thinking he might make a move. Got stung instead.”
“They got you twice, and now they appear to have gotten Hayes twice. Why risk that?” Boldt asked. “Why not do what had to be done the first time?”
“They weren’t going to torture me out in the damn woods,” Foreman complained. “And these guys are smart: They don’t put kidnapping on the rap sheet. Assault. Maybe second-degree manslaughter. But it’s in the victim’s home. It’s breaking and entering. Robbery. Light stuff compared with kidnapping.”
That argument wasn’t quite right, but Boldt didn’t push it. “They got Hayes that first time. We know that by the blood type at the scene. Why risk, why bother with a second event?” This stuck in Boldt’s craw. These people seemed smart-as Danny had just said. Even Liz’s assault in the van looked more like robbery. They were carefully avoiding the charges that drew mandatory time and a maximum-security facility. So why risk a second attack on Hayes? Especially given that he might be being watched.
Boldt gestured at the torture scene. “Did you see this go down, Danny?”
“Of course not.”
“But Liz had told you about the cabin. You were watching the cabin. You said so.”
“That’s you talking, not me.” He added, “I was suckered away from here. Anonymous call saying I should take a meeting in town. That Hayes was thinking of turning. I ended up stuck in a traffic jam on the 520. I’d been over in Bellevue. Missed the meet entirely. Fuck me.”
Boldt felt a measure of pride at having successfully distracted Danny Foreman away from asking again about the forensic evidence that Boldt found inconsistent at the scene. Veteran cops rarely snuck something past one another, and Boldt had done just that by focusing Foreman on himself-a subject most people found irresistible.
“You know what happens when I call in the lab techs?” Foreman asked. “They’re going to go room by room,” he said, “dusting, developing prints.”
Boldt felt a spike of heat travel up his spine.
“Thing about latents,” Foreman said. “They can’t be dated. They could be from yesterday, or they may be six years old, and they all look the same.”
Boldt paced back to the doorway and glanced into the bedroom again. This time the film that played in his head had his naked wife grabbing headboards, touching the bedside lamp, pressing her sweating palm on the wall. With her prints in the WSW database, it would be only a matter of time until she’d be placed in the cabin and questioned. A matter of time until she’d have to detail the affair with Hayes.
He felt himself shrink and recoil. Would Foreman now suggest or offer to destroy evidence and wipe down the cabin? Where was this going? What was it Foreman wanted?
“I need her to go along with whatever they ask her to do,” Foreman said.
There it was, words hanging between them, as if stopped in space and floating. Boldt’s response determined their power or impotence.
“I need her safe,” Boldt said.
“You walk out of here now, and there’s no record of your having been here. What forensics finds or doesn’t find is a product of what there is to find in the first place. But when the prelims on this cabin come back clean for Liz, you’ll know why. She gets another call, and I’m the first one you contact. She gets asked to do something for these people and she does it. No more substitutions, coach. If they were gonna snatch her up, they’d have done it. Clearly, she’s of more use to them on the outside. They aren’t going to harm her, they’re going to use her. And you’re going to let them.”
The message didn’t surprise Boldt, but Foreman’s edgy, demanding tone did. The ordeal that Foreman had gone through had taken its toll. Boldt had no idea what it was like to have fingernails pulled, no idea what that did to a person.
“It’s seventeen million dollars, Danny. WestCorp was insured. They’re not out a cent. I know they’d love to prevent something similar from happening again, but the only person who seems to really give a damn about closing this case is you. As for me… my concern is for Liz, and only Liz. I want her out. I want her disconnected. Neither of us needs to relive this. All it can do is hurt us. What you’re asking is impossible. It’s the one thing I’m working against: her involvement. As to my condoning the destruction of evidence-I can’t do that either. Her prints or not, the cabin needs to be gone over by the technicians. We need every scrap of evidence there is. And I’ll tell you why,” he said. “Because this crime scene-whatever happened here, whoever it happened to-is wrong. Can I put my finger on it? No, I can’t. Not yet. But it’s wrong. You don’t do this twice to the same guy. I just don’t see professionals doing that. That’s why we need the technicians. That’s why I’m going to stay right here with you until they arrive. Liz’s prints can and will be explained, no matter the outcome. Does anyone think she possesses the strength to tie David Hayes into a chair? Even with Rohypnol? Not a chance. She will not participate beyond serving as a comm center. They want to call her, fine. Beyond that, it’s surrogates, undercover officers, and that’s that.”
“You’re going to make this decision for her?” Foreman asked. “Without her?”
“You tried to blackmail me a minute ago, Danny. Extort me. For what? A six-year-old case that no one cares about? Look in the mirror. There are reasons the original investigating officer doesn’t get the lead when a case resurfaces. You embody those reasons. You’re burned out, Danny. You blame that case for Darlene’s illness, even for her death, for all I know. You’re hanging on to this one and it’s going to take you with it. Let it go, man! Pass it off to someone less personally attached.”
“Is that what you’re going to do?” Foreman asked, his voice steady and calm, but belying an undercurrent of raw energy that raised Boldt’s hackles. “Practice what you preach, soldier.”