“Nick Telso, please.”
“Hold, please.”
Lisa pictured Nick—excessive hair gel, the tight shirt and gum chewing. He had managed the store for five years, promoted from running the produce section. Lisa was one of his best cashiers.
“Good Buy Supermart, Nick Telso.”
“Nick, it’s Lisa. I won’t be in today. I need to use a couple of banked days.” Lisa heard Nick flipping pages of the schedule near the phone in his office.
“You’re scheduled for two. This is short notice, Lisa. I could dock you.”
“I’m sorry. It’s a family crisis. I’ll need a few days.”
“How many are we talking, Lisa? One? Two? I got to change the shift schedule and there’ll be a lot of squawking.”
“Counting today, possibly four?”
“Four? What the hell happened, did someone d—”
She knew he was going to ask if someone died, but caught himself when he remembered who he was talking to.
“It’s something with my kids, Nick. I’ll tell you more later.”
“All right, all right, I’ll put you down for a two o’clock on the tenth. Call me if anything changes.”
“Thanks, Nick.”
Hanging up, Lisa stared at her reflection in the mirror before the desk and followed the worry lines drawn in her face before she returned to her room.
Ethan was on one of the beds. Legs crossed, his eyes darted from his game player to his mother then back again.
In that instant, Lisa read it all. He was carrying a world of worry on his shoulders, far too much for a ten-year-old boy. His father’s sudden death had accelerated his maturity and sharpened his intuition. He’d grown protective of her and Taylor. Studying his face, Lisa thought he was in a silent battle with resentment, anger and fear.
She would talk to him later.
Taylor seemed to be fine, smiling, watching the movie, sipping juice.
“So, how are things looking?” Rita asked.
Ethan, his nose in his game, listened intently for his mother’s answer.
“I called the school, the store and let everyone know that we’re going to be away for a while. So we’ve got some breathing room,” Lisa said. “Thank you again for dropping everything to help us.”
“No problem, kiddo,” Rita said. “I have to get back home tonight, got a shift in the morning, but then I’ll come back here to help with the kids. Want me to pick up anything?”
“I’ll let you know.” Lisa tugged Taylor’s headset off. “Some more people are coming to talk to me. They’ll be here any minute. I was thinking that you guys could go with Rita, Vicky and Eve to Times Square. I’ll give you some money. You could ride the Ferris wheel at Toys “R” Us then go to Central Park, or the Empire State Building.”
Taylor loved the idea. While she and Rita went into the bathroom to get ready, Lisa talked with Ethan, who pretended to be more interested in his game.
“What’s on your mind, hon?”
“How much longer before we can go home?”
“I don’t know, a couple of days, maybe.”
“A couple of days? I thought it was just going to be one night.”
“I don’t like this either, but I have to help the FBI. I’ll ask them about it when the senior agent gets here. He seems to be the boss. So, how are you doing?”
“Are we moving to California?”
“What?”
“I heard you talking on the phone last week.”
“I’m not sure about everything yet.”
“I don’t want to move. All my friends are here.”
“I know. We need to talk about it.”
“But Mom…?”
“We’ll talk about it, Ethan, okay?”
He looked at his game, letting a few moments pass.
“But we’re going back up to the cabin to do what we have to do for Dad, right? You promised.”
“Yes, we still have it for a few more weeks. I promise we’ll go back for one last visit.”
“Did you really see people get killed?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re okay, really?”
Lisa searched his face and by the way he was scrutinizing hers, she could only imagine how she must look to him. He’d already lost his father and to see his mother facing a new psychological tsunami had to be terrifying for him.
It broke her heart.
“Mom? Are you really okay?”
Lisa recalled Dr. Sullivan’s advice.
Tell them. Give them an idea you experienced something troubling.
“It was horrible, Ethan, but I’m doing the best I can to get through it.”
He took her hand. “It’ll get better when we can go home, Mom.”
She nodded through her tears. Lisa sat that way with her son until Taylor and Rita were ready. That’s when they heard Morrow and Sullivan arrive through the FBI agents’ room.
Agent Frank Morrow arrived with Dr. Helen Sullivan, who had left that morning for meetings at the FBI’s New York Division. Morrow approved Agents Chan and Watson going with Rita and the children. He sent one of the male agents with them and had the other remain across the hall.
“Are you comfortable here?” Morrow asked when he and Sullivan were alone with Lisa.
“Yes, but we want to know when we can go home. The kids have school, I have my job and bills to pay.”
“We understand that. But we’d like you to stay. We need you to keep helping us at this stage.”
“I thought you brought me here to be safe in case the assholes were trying to find me.”
Morrow nodded.
“That’s part of it. We wanted to isolate you from the scene, the chaos. Give you a chance to recover. We’ve done that with some of the other witnesses as well.”
“And what about the killers finding me? They took our cell phones.”
“We talked about this. They burned the phones. We’ve retrieved them and are keeping them as evidence. We’re trying to check calls to determine if anyone was working with them. From what we determined, the suspects had no time to gain any personal information to use for intimidation.”
“So they don’t know who I am or anything about me?”
“That’s our feeling and our Behavioral Analysis Unit, the guys who profile criminals, tell us it’s unlikely our subjects would pursue witnesses. Remember, they took pains to ensure no one could identify them.”
A mild wave of relief rolled over her.
“So I can go now?”
“We’d like you to consider one thing that may be crucial.”
“What’s that?”
“From all our interviews, we’ve determined that you are our key witness. You were closer to the homicide of a federal officer than anyone else there. You had to have seen a detail, a scar, a tattoo, jewelry, something unique about the gun, shoes or clothing.”
“But I told you everything. Everything.”
Morrow threw a glance to Helen Sullivan. It was her cue.
“Lisa, when someone witnesses a horrific crime, they often have trouble recalling the details of what they’ve seen. The trauma obliterates it. But studies show that the unconscious mind has recorded all the information, including the most disturbing parts.”
“You may not recall seeing the details we need,” Morrow added, “but they’re there.”
“So what are you asking me to do?”
“We’d like you to submit to a special interview,” Sullivan said. “In the file it’s known as a cognitive interview.”
“Is it hypnosis?”
“No, not exactly. It’s an interview technique to help you remember details. If you cooperate, I’ll conduct a few sessions.”
Lisa stared off, considering the request. A distant siren resurrected the sensation of a gun drilling into her skull.
“Will you do it, Lisa?” Morrow asked. “It might be our only hope to arrest the people who did this.”