Last Seen: A gripping edge-of-your-seat thriller that you won’t be able to put down. Rick Mofina
“Deceptive or truthful?”
“Truthful, unless he’s suspected someone has deceived him.”
“What do you mean?”
“If he’s dealing with unsavory types for a story, that sort of thing, he’ll do whatever it takes to get at the truth.”
“Would you say he was arrogant, or humble?”
“Somewhere in between, I suppose.”
Lang made notes.
“All right. Now, Faith, prior to Gage’s disappearance, was there any significant event in his life and yours—a school problem, a relationship or family issue, something involving police, anything?”
Faith began shaking her head. “No, nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Any recent stress in your family, say, with something financial, a death?”
“Cal’s worried about losing his job at the paper.”
“And what kind of stress has that put on you and Gage?”
“We try to keep that from Gage, but I told Cal we could survive on my salary if we tightened up on things.”
“And Cal’s reaction?”
“He didn’t really want to talk about it.”
“Faith, do you have any marital stress at all now, or in the past?”
She swallowed and blinked quickly. “A few arguments here and there, like most married couples, but no.”
“Aside from the workaholic thing, is Cal a good father?”
“Yes.”
“A good husband?”
She nodded.
“Faith, I have to ask these questions, but before you answer, you must understand that no matter what the truth is, all we care about is finding Gage, all right?”
“All right,” she said, unsure of what was coming.
“Do you suspect anyone of being involved in Gage’s disappearance?”
“No.”
“Are you involved in your son’s disappearance?”
“No!”
“Did someone help you to cause his disappearance?”
“No, absolutely not!”
Lang made notes, glancing at the time on his mini digital recorder.
“Has Cal ever been unfaithful to you?”
“No.”
“How would you characterize his attitude toward infidelity?”
“Oh my God, Detective, what do you think?”
“You tell me. Is he indifferent to it?”
“It’s wrong.”
“Have you ever been unfaithful to Cal?”
Faith clenched her tissue; her breathing quickened and she turned as if counting the cinder blocks in the wall.
“Listen, Faith,” Lang said. “All we care about is finding Gage and to do that we need a foundation of honesty and truthfulness.”
“No, Detective Lang, my answer is no.”
He held her in his gaze for a moment, then made notes.
“Good, that’s good.” He resumed looking at her with a hint of his warm smile. “You work as a public relations manager downtown at Parker Hayes and Robinson?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any reason to believe someone in your workplace would want to harm Gage?”
“You keep asking me the same questions. The answer is no.”
Lang was flipping back through the pages of his notes when there was a knock on the door and Detective Price leaned into the room.
“Leon, something’s come up. We have to go.”
“Okay.” Lang turned to Faith. “Excuse me,” he said to her. “We’re pretty much done.”
In the hall beyond the detectives, Faith saw Cal and a uniformed officer.
“What’s going on?” Cal said. “Will somebody tell me?”
“Hold on, Mr. Hudson.” Price turned to Faith and said, “Officer Ramirez will take you and Cal downstairs so we can swab your cheeks for DNA and collect your fingerprints—all routine, I assure you. Then she’ll drive you home.”
“Wait!” Faith saw men in the squad room pulling on jackets, talking on phones, heading out, the heightened activity signifying some sort of development. “What’s happened? Is this about Gage?”
“Please.” Lang nodded to the uniform. “Carmen, would you?” Then to the Hudsons: “Please go with Officer Ramirez, she’ll get you home.”
“Please tell us!” Faith’s eyes widened. “Did you find Gage?”
Hands went to Faith’s shoulders to nudge her toward the elevator but she shook them off.
“Why won’t they tell us anything? Cal, did they find Gage? Please! Somebody tell us! Did you find our son?”
A few miles from where the detectives had been questioning Cal and Faith, Officer Neil Peddet and his partner were searching for Gage Hudson.
“What’s up, buddy? You got something?”
Champ, his purebred German shepherd, was panting and wagging his tail, signaling to Peddet that he’d picked up the scent again.
“Was he around here? Are we getting close?”
Champ yipped, as if to say, “This way.” Snout to the ground, poking here and there along the lawns and sidewalks of the postwar houses on Emerson Avenue, he pulled hard on the sixteen-foot line Peddet had put on him. He brought them to a gravel patch that led to a tired-looking, one-story strip mall.
Champ was excited.
All the signs were good, Peddet thought, while keeping his optimism in check. Champ had had the same reaction yesterday while they were searching the perimeter of the fairgrounds, picking up something on the other side of the fence. It had taken them deeper into the surrounding neighborhoods. But Champ kept losing it and Peddet knew that it could’ve been a false lead, another dog or a scent similar to Gage’s.
It could’ve been any number of possibilities.
But it could be Gage.
They’d worked late into the night, before knocking off at midnight and returning in the hour before dawn, resuming their work using the scent on Gage’s unwashed hoodie.
Deep down Peddet was hopeful.
You’ve got to expect the unexpected.
He knew that the evening and early-morning hours were usually best for tracking. This morning was also ideal because there was no wind, which could disperse a scent.
Besides, Champ excelled at his job. Two months earlier he’d worked on a three-mile search to find a fifty-year-old female patient who’d wandered from the hospital. Before that, in the spring, Peddet and Champ had helped the state police search Big River State Forest near Wisconsin where a disturbed man had abducted and hidden his three-year-old cousin. Champ had tracked them to a lean-to shelter the man had built by a river.
Pretty good, considering Champ started life as an underdog, abandoned