“So we’re still nowhere.” My voice trembled slightly.
Silence filled the car.
I could sense the boys wanted to comfort me. Had no idea how to.
“Let’s go home,” I said softly.
• • •
“Tory, where have you been?”
There was real concern in Kit’s voice as he sprang up from the couch.
I elected for half truth. “The boys and I went to where Ella worked. I thought maybe we could spot something.”
“Oh, honey.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulder.
I felt tears welling behind my eyes. Forced them back.
Kit released me. Held me at arm’s length so he could look into my eyes.
“If you want to cancel this barbeque, just say the word. Whitney will be fine.”
The block party. I’d completely forgotten.
Of course we can’t have a stupid cookout today. My friend was abducted!
“It’s fine.” A glance at the clock. “Tell Whitney I’ll be ready to help in an hour. Where’s Coop?”
“He’s asleep on your bed.” Kit ran nervous fingers through his curly brown hair. “Are you sure, kiddo? I don’t know if this party is a good idea.”
“It’s okay. Better a dumb cookout than nothing. Maybe it’ll keep my mind off . . . things.”
Kit nodded slowly. “Only if you’re certain. And we leave the minute you want to.”
I forced a smile. “Thanks, Dad.”
He tried to hide his surprise. I never called him that.
Then I saw today’s Post and Courier sitting on our dining room table.
I started. “What is that!?”
Kit tracked my eyes, then winced. “There’s a story. Maybe now’s not the best—”
Ignoring him, I grabbed the newspaper. A giant picture dominated above the fold.
Two playing cards, side by side. Ophiuchus. Cetus.
A banner headline screamed: “Zodiac Kidnapper Baffles Police.”
Eyes wide, I read the full-page story. Then I slammed the paper on the table.
“The police don’t know anything!” Sides heaving. “But the press has it all the next day!”
Kit grabbed the newsprint and dumped it in the recycling bin. “Forget that nonsense. I’m sure the police have leads they aren’t sharing.”
I shook my head angrily. “Someone has leaked every major development in these cases so far. Yet the cops don’t have a damn clue.”
“Tory, I understand how upset you are, but we have to trust—”
“I know more than those bozos!”
Kit stopped short. “I’m sorry?”
Careful!
I buried my face in my hands. Worry for Ella was compromising my judgment.
Then I made a decision.
“Kit?”
“Yeah, kiddo?” Watching me closely.
“Please sit with me. I have some things to tell you.”
We each pulled a chair from the dining table. Sat facing each other.
Deep breath.
It’s the right thing to do.
“We need to visit police headquarters. Today. I have evidence they need to see.”
Kit led me inside the lobby of police headquarters.
My eyes shot to the intake counter—thankfully, a female officer was on duty.
I released a pent-up breath. At least I wouldn’t be recognized from our late-night visit two days ago. This meeting was going to be bad enough.
Shelton, Hi, and Ben were a few steps behind me. I’d argued that we didn’t all need to be there, but Detective Hawfield had seen things differently.
Ruth Stolowitski had Hiram by one elbow, a murderous look on her face. Shelton’s father, Nelson, had accompanied his son. Ben came alone.
Kit spoke to the desk officer, then waved us toward the elevator bank.
“Fifth floor,” I told him.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Lucky guess.”
Arriving at the Major Crimes department, we were greeted by a junior detective who led us to a conference room with a circular table large enough for everyone to sit.
At least they didn’t throw us in the box. That’s something, right?
Moments later, Hawfield walked in. He wasn’t alone.
“You’ve got to be kidding!” Hi blurted.
Carmine Corcoran’s scowl was as deep as ever. He’d lost a few pounds, but was still a large man, with muttonchop sideburns and a bristly black moustache. His hair was graying at the temples, making him appear more distinguished than his forty-five years merited.
Ruth popped the back of her son’s head. “Mind your manners, Hiram.”
“Why does everyone do that?” Hi muttered. “And that was child abuse. In front of the police, I might add.”
“Sergeant?” I tried to decipher Corcoran’s insignia. “Or is it still Security Director?”
“It’s Captain Corcoran now, Miss Brennan.” Spoken with evident satisfaction. “I was asked to rejoin the force after foiling those felonies last summer. I’ve moved up in the world.”
“You’re welcome.” Hi dodged another matronly swat.
Corcoran shot Hiram a hooded glance, but didn’t rise to the bait. He’d been the officer in charge during our investigation of the skeleton on Loggerhead Island last spring, and had worked private security during our pursuit of Anne Bonny’s lost fortune the following summer. Neither encounter had been overly pleasant.
Corcoran was on the short list of people I wouldn’t mind avoiding forever.
But here we were. Our luck never seems to improve.
Detective Hawfield pulled out a chair and sat. “Let’s get down to business, shall we? I thought it prudent that Captain Corcoran attend this interview, since he has some . . . experience with the witnesses.”
I’ll say.
Hawfield spread his hands. “This is your meeting. Please begin.”
Kit glanced at me. Reaching into my pack, I removed the bagged phosphate nodule and placed it on the table. Then I set two vials beside it—one containing the long black hair, the other holding my Hemastix strip.
Hawfield frowned immediately. “What is that?”
“Evidence in the kidnapping of Ella Francis.” I was surprised at how calm my voice sounded. “We discovered it behind the Flying Tomato this morning.”
“Bubby, what is this?” Ruth squawked.
Hi held a finger to his lips. “Quiet, Ma! Just listen.”
Hawfield’s hand found his forehead. “You’re telling me that you’ve handled evidence from a possible crime scene? That you removed it?”
I nodded. Corcoran made a noise in his throat I choose not to interpret.
“In our defense, the rock was just sitting there.” Shelton looked to his father. “The cops missed it the night before. What if it rained? Or some dog got it? We couldn’t just leave it.”
Nelson put a comforting hand on his son’s shoulder.
“You had no business there in the first place,” Corcoran huffed. “Like moths to a flame, the four of you. Like it or not, your actions have tainted the crime scene.”
“We didn’t touch the stone,” I said coolly. “It’s been sealed in that evidence bag since we discovered it. Shelton’s right—we couldn’t just leave it lying outside.”
Hawfield raised a hand for quiet. He seemed to have regained some of his equanimity. “Why do you believe this stone is evidence?” he asked.
I rotated the bag to expose the rust-red blemish. “The rock seemed out of place. Examining it, I noticed two things. This red stain on its side, and a twelve-inch black hair stuck to its surface, which I think might belong to Ella.”
My voice broke on her name. Kit reached over and squeezed my hand.
H
awfield gave me an appraising look. “I assume the hair is in that test tube?”
“Yes. The other vial contains a Hemastix strip I used to assess for blood. It came back presumptively positive.”
Hawfield reached over and collected the three items. “I can’t condone what you’ve done. Proper procedure is for a citizen to alert the police—”
“It’s a disgrace!” Corcoran spat, folding his beefy arms. “By handling these items, they’re now useless in a court of law. Any lawyer worth a bag of Doritos could have them withheld.”
“Maybe,” I snapped. “But I’m more worried about finding Ella and the twins. Your people missed this completely. Without us, you wouldn’t even have it.”
“We do multiple sweeps! We’d have found it eventually.”
“Done is done,” Hawfield said calmly. “We’ll need statements explaining what you found, where, when, who handled it, all the details.”
I nodded.
“Good. Now, is there anything else?”
“We showed the rock to a geologist.”
“More hands?” Corcoran lifted his palms to the ceiling. “Great Lord in the morning!”
Ignoring Corcoran’s dramatics, I related our visit to Professor Marzec and the information he provided. Hawfield took careful notes, then rose and left the room. We waited in uncomfortable silence for his return.
“Okay.” Hawfield sat heavily in his chair. “Is there anything else we need to discuss?”
I thought about the bloodstain at the Gable house. The labeled bar in the ransom video. Both pieces of information could be useful to the investigation.
But explaining how we obtained that evidence might land us in juvie.
I looked at Corcoran. He glared back. That made up my mind.
“Just one other thing. I think you should look into Rex Gable. The twins’ stepfather.”
“Excuse me?” Corcoran sat forward, red-faced. “What are you implying, young lady?”
“Some of his actions since the twins went missing seem . . . questionable.” I couldn’t mention his phone records, but was trying to push them in that direction. “I’m just saying that Rex Gable might merit additional consideration.”
“Of course,” Corcoran scoffed. “The evil stepfather is the culprit. Thank goodness we have Nancy Drew on the case.”
Kit straightened. “Now wait just a min—”
“Dr. Howard, we’ve been down this road before.” Corcoran shook his head. “These kids have gained a little notoriety recently. So now, suddenly, they think they’re expert crime fighters. I think the celebrity status has gone to their heads.”
My temper exploded. “And I think you’re still the same stupid, brain-dead—”
“Everyone, please!” Hawfield looked like he’d rather be anywhere else on the planet. “Let’s not lose our composure. Miss Brennan, we’ll take your opinion under advisement.”
I knew what that meant. But what else could I do?
“We done here?” Ben’s first words.
Hawfield and Corcoran wheeled on him as one.
Abruptly, I got a bad feeling.
“Mr. Blue.” Hawfield’s voice became less cordial. “Are you able to give an account of your whereabouts on Thursday evening?”
Ben’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Please answer the question.”
“I was in Mongolia. Surfing.”
“Don’t get cute, son.” Shifting his bulk, Corcoran attempted to loom menacingly. “You might’ve wriggled off the last hook, but you’ve got no more get-out-of-jail-free cards.”
My eyes widened. “Are you suggesting Ben had something to do with Ella’s disappearance?”
“I’m not suggesting anything,” Hawfield said curtly. “I simply asked a question.”
Ben’s face reddened, but he answered. “I was at home. Watching TV.”
“Was anyone with you?”
Ben shook his head. “My mother works second shift this week.”
Corcoran crossed his arms. “What about the morning of March twenty-eighth?”
“No idea.”
Corcoran leaned on the table. “Think. Harder.”
Ben’s face went rigid. I could see him shutting down.
“That’s enough.” Kit put a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “We came here voluntarily, to provide information regarding Ella’s abduction. Not to be interrogated. If you want to ask Ben any more questions, you’ll need to speak with his parents first.”
Then my father steeled his voice. “And let me be frank—accusing this boy of having anything to do with the kidnappings is offensive and grotesque. I expect better from our police.”
Captain Corcoran snorted, but said no more.
Hawfield rose quickly. “Thank you for coming down. If you’ll follow me, we can knock out those statements . . .”
• • •
I walked outside and stretched. The paperwork had taken over an hour.
Ben sat on a bench nearby, staring at nothing.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” He slid over, making room for me to sit.
After a slight hesitation, I did.
For several moments, neither of us spoke. I sat very still, feeling awkward, watching a gaggle of children play hopscotch in the riverside park across the street.
“They think I know something,” Ben said sourly. “That I might be working with someone again. ‘Craving the spotlight,’ Corcoran said.”
“I wish you had an alibi.”
His head spun. “Why? You don’t think I had anything—”
“Ben, no! I just meant that it’d be easier. That they’d go away.”
Ben held my gaze. His shell was crumbling. I saw raw emotion hiding behind his eyes.
“Because if you thought I was capable of something like . . . like that, I might . . .” His voice cracked. “I couldn’t take it.”
He looked away. The harbor breeze ruffled his silky black hair.
My hand found his, almost by its own volition. “Ben.”
“What?” He didn’t turn.
“I want you to know that I forgive you. It’s past time I told you that.”
He tensed. I squeezed his hand, letting him know I meant the words.
I did. I couldn’t be mad at Ben anymore. It was like being mad at my left arm.
And right then, I needed my arm back.
Ben’s head dropped. Then, shockingly, his shoulders began to shake.
“I never meant for . . . It wasn’t supposed to . . .”
“Shhh.” I scootched close, wrapped an arm around him. “I know. I know.”
I heard snivels, desperately masked. Ben’s whole body trembled. Then he relaxed.
“I’m sorry about the flaring.” Wiping his checks with his palms. “I can be such an idiot sometimes.”
“Sometimes?” I joked, trying to lighten the mood. “I understand. Let’s just tone things down for a while, until we figure out what’s wrong.”
“Okay.” He sat back, too embarrassed to look at me.
Our hands parted. My arm slipped from his shoulder.
“I just wish we could do something.” Ben punched his thigh. “For Ella, and Lucy and Peter. Some whacked-out monster has them, and we’ve got these incredible gifts. But right now, they don’t mean anything. We’re nowhere. I’ve never felt so . . . useless.”
“Helpless.” I hugged myself close. “It’s like I can see Ella drowning, but can’t save her.”
Unbidden, thoughts of my friend flooded my mind. Her mischievous smile as we whispered secrets in calculus. The two of us laughing at the terrible artwork. A quick give-and-go we’d executed on the practice field.
Ella Francis had become one of my closest friends. Maybe even a best one.
My own walls caved. Tears tri
ckled from the corner of my eyes.
Then strong arms enveloped me.
“Don’t cry.” Ben’s hot breath on my cheek. “We’ll find her. And the twins. I promise.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I hiccupped. “People always do that.”
“I mean it.” Firmly spoken. “I won’t let us fail. Not at this.”
The sobs broke free. I burrowed into Ben’s chest, letting everything go. I cried and cried and cried, unthinking, releasing a week’s worth of pent-up emotion in a few hot seconds.
Ben held me, silent, softly rubbing my back.
A thought floated from somewhere far away.
This isn’t so bad.
I pushed away, gently breaking Ben’s embrace. Looked into his eyes. His face was a whisper from mine.
I thought of Ben’s confession during the hurricane. How he’d wanted to be more than just packmates. Emotions swirled in my chest, making me dizzy. Off balance.
“Ben . . . I . . .”
“Tory?”
My father’s voice sent us flying apart as if electroshocked.
Kit was descending the steps, an odd look on his face.
“Yes?” Discreetly wiping away tears.
I saw a thousand questions fill Kit’s eyes, but, thankfully, he kept them shelved.
“I hate to do this, kiddo, but Whitney’s party starts in an hour. She’s trying to be patient, but, frankly, that isn’t her strong suit.”
“No. Right.” I stood, smoothing clothes and hair. “Mustn’t keep the Duchess waiting.”
Kit frowned. “Say the word, and we cancel right now. No question.”
“No, sorry. I was just being flip. It’s really fine.” Forced smile. “Might be just the thing.”
“All right, then. We need to get moving.”
Kit glanced at Ben, still sitting on the bench, striving for invisible.
A smile quirked my father’s lips. “And you, Mr. Blue? Ready for a good ol’-fashioned backyard barbeque? My daughter will be there.”
Ben’s uneasy smile was his only response.
The party was surreal.
The weather that afternoon was perfect. Sunny, mid-seventies, with a light breeze sweeping in off the breakers. Everyone wore shorts, sandals, and shades, luxuriating like house cats in the warm April sun.