But on the screens, no Gracie appeared. No cop emerged carrying a little girl in his arms. No. Jane adjusted her imaginary dénouement. She’d walk out on her own. Gracie was fine. They’d find her.
Keeping her eyes on the screens, Jane dug for her cell phone and hit speed dial. One ring. Two.
“Melissa?” Jane began before her sister even said hello. “Any word from-”
“No,” Melissa said. Jane heard cars honking and the murmur of moving air and acceleration. “Any word there?”
“No,” Jane said. “They’re-we’re-everyone is looking.”
“We’re on the way to you, Janey. Daniel and I. I don’t understand it-I’d taken a shower, you know? Then Daniel arrived. I went upstairs to get Robyn, to tell her, that’s when I discovered she was gone. No note, no nothing. No car in the garage.”
Jane kept her eyes on the surveillance monitors. “Are you okay? Daniel? How long until you get to the hotel?” Cameras were everywhere, like electronic windows in this otherwise windowless room. Gracie had to appear.
“It’s as okay as it can be. I’m trying to explain it all, to him, and-” Melissa paused. “Fifteen minutes. How can there be rush hour on a Tuesday at three twenty-two?”
“Boston,” Jane said. “Hurry.”
“Love you,” Melissa said. And hung up.
“Love you, too,” Jane said. Even though the line was dead.
Okay, she told herself. Start again at screen one. But there was no Gracie. The shots flashed, changed, brought in a new view. No Gracie. No Gracie.
Who knew how many other views there were, maybe cameras she couldn’t access. The blueprint was a technomap of squiggly lines and engineering symbols. But there was no symbol for where a little girl might be hiding.
The doorknob rattled. The surveillance guys? If she could talk fast, explain, maybe they’d be convinced she was on the right track. Maybe help her look.
“Jane,” Jake said, closing the door behind him.
“How’d you know I’d be here?” It was a relief to see him, okay and safe. Much better than Tall and Beefy. At least Jake wouldn’t arrest her. Oh, wait. Maybe he would. He’d ordered her not to move from the fake palm tree. Well, whatever. She wasn’t the problem.
“You told me about this room, remember?” Jake smiled, just for an instant. “And I know you never listen to me.”
She opened her mouth to make a crack, but no. “Did you find her? I’ve been looking and looking but didn’t see-”
“Jane.”
Jake’s face had hardened. She knew him well enough to know something bad was coming. She put one hand on the video console, grounding herself. It isn’t Gracie, her mind reassured her. Lights from the flickering monitors danced in Jane’s peripheral vision as she focused on Jake.
“We have the shooter. And I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry? Who is it?” Jane grabbed his arm. Then the look on Jake’s face stopped her.
One shooter. One victim. Domestic. Not Gracie. If she was missing, she wasn’t shot, because the medics had said the victim was being transported. If Jake was “sorry,” there was only one name to say. The lying, identity-stealing, child-abducting nutcase who’d caused so much misery for his wife and her sister and, yes, for herself. Creep, she thought.
“Lewis,” Jane said.
“No.” Jake shook his head. “Robyn.”
“Robyn? Is the shooter? Of who? Lewis? That’s horr-”
“Yeah,” Jake said. It was breaking protocol to tell Jane like this, but what the hell. “He’ll live, though, so-”
She took a step toward him, interrupting. “Does he know where Gracie is? Was she-there?”
“Nope. Long story.” Jake opened the surveillance room door, checked the lobby, made sure police sentries still kept people out. He knew the cops on the upper floors were keeping people in. The danger had been contained and extinguished. Except for the missing Gracie.
“Short version,” Jake continued. “DeLuca found Robyn. Says she was wild, weeping one minute, bitching the next. Self-defense, she swears. Says Lewis had threatened to take Gracie, then he threatened Robyn with a twenty-two. Just how she managed to wrestle a gun from her ‘crazed’ husband isn’t yet clear, but we’ll get to that.”
Jane had perched on the white counter under the monitors, the shifting video dancing shadows and light around her. “What if it was self-defense?”
“Then Lewis will be adding a set of handcuffs to his hospital attire. So look, Jane, Robyn says you’ll corroborate her story. She says she doesn’t want a lawyer. Just you.”
“Me?”
Jake watched her trying to process this. “And if she talks to us in front of you, it’s admissible.”
“What. About. Gracie?”
“She says she has no idea where Gracie is,” Jake said. “We’re still searching. But there are a hundred seventy-three rooms in this place.”
He saw the scenes on the security monitors shift and change as new digital images were transmitted from cameras placed throughout the hotel. Might he see the girl on these cameras? Was Jane right? Jake knew surveillance video was often sent to off-site security companies for archiving and storage.
Little did the hotel guests know. Except when a career-ruining transgression appeared, taped and undeniable, on a trashy news show: celebrities fighting in elevators, coked-up film stars trashing hotel rooms. So much for “security.” Those videos, once they went viral-who makes that stuff public, anyway?-could wreck a career.
“You up for it?” Jake asked. “It’s unorthodox for you to talk to a suspect. But it wasn’t our idea.”
“Robyn?” Jane said again. He heard the incredulity in her voice. “Is the shooter?”
“Yeah. Robyn,” Jake said. “I’m all for letting her stew up there for a bit. Let her wonder what’s going on, you know? But she claims you’ll back her up about Lewis. His problems. His volatility. His threats. Jane? Is that true? Did he threaten her? Or Gracie?”
Jane didn’t answer.
“Jane?” It must be tough for her to get dragged into the middle of a family squabble. Hell, more than squabble, this was attempted murder, potentially, and child abduction. Jane was not used to being part of the story, so he’d tread lightly. But he needed to tread semi-fast. Robyn could wait, but not for too long. And Gracie was still missing.
Now Jane’s eyes were on the monitors over his shoulder. Not looking at him.
“Jake,” Jane said. Still not looking at him.
“I know. It’s difficult.” Jake tried to sound reassuring and supportive. This would be an emotional tightrope for her. “But is it true?”
“Gracie,” Jane said.
“What? Right,” Jake said. “Gracie. Or Robyn.”
“No, Jake.” This time Jane pointed. “Gracie.”
56
It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. The words spun through Tenley’s brain, an endless loop of guilt. Finally, she blurted the words out loud, she couldn’t help it, and Brileen and her mom turned to her, each face mirroring the other’s surprise. The computer on her mom’s desk still showed the green square on the black screen, the white triangle protecting the hideous Lanna video. Now Brileen was saying there was also a video of her, Tenley, somewhere? And her father had been killed trying to get it?