Hangman. Faye Kellerman

Hangman - Faye  Kellerman


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Whitman. He’s going to be staying with us tonight. Could you show him to your brothers’ room and make up the bed?”

      “I can do it,” Gabe said, pink-cheeked.

      “So can Hannah,” Rina said.

      “I’ll do it.” Hannah shrugged. “You need anything to eat? I was gonna get myself some cherries. You want to look around the fridge?”

      “Uh…sure.” Gabe followed her into the kitchen and that was that.

      Sometimes peer counseling was far superior to the best mothering.

      AFTER HANNAH WASHED the cherries, she gave him a handful in a paper bowl. “These are really good. I think my mom got them at the farmers’ market.”

      “Produce is really good out here.”

      “Out here? Where are you from?”

      “New York.”

      “The city?”

      “The burbs.” He studied his fruit. “Do you know New York?”

      “I have lots of friends out there.” She bit into a cherry and spit out the pit. “And my brother goes to Einstein Med School.”

      Gabe said, “My mom worked at Mount Sinai for a while. She’s an ER doc.”

      “Are you interested in medicine?”

      “Not a chance.” He finally picked up a cherry and ate it. “You know I’m perfectly capable of putting on my own sheets.”

      “Fine with me. Can I ask why you’re here?”

      “My mom’s gone…like missing. I think your dad is looking for her. He said it was illegal for me to stay in a hotel by myself, so he offered to take me in tonight.”

      “That sounds like my dad.”

      “He’s a nice guy?”

      “He’s a very nice guy,” Hannah said. “He comes across as very cop, but he has a heart of mush. My mother is even mushier. They’re both pushovers. You want something to drink?”

      “No, thanks. I should probably get to bed.” He put the fruit down on the counter. “Thanks for the cherries. I don’t think I’m so hungry.”

      “Are you going to be able to sleep?”

      “Probably not.”

      “I’ll show you how to work the TV. It’s a little funky because it’s from the Stone Age. My brothers have been out of the house for a while. What grade are you in?”

      “I was in tenth. My mom and I just recently moved out here, so I haven’t been going to school.”

      “So you’re fifteen?”

      “Four months shy. A lot of people think I’m older ’cause I’m tall.”

      “Yeah, same with me. But I don’t mind.” She hopped off the counter. “Follow me. And try not to worry too much about the situation. My dad may be a mush ball with me, but he’s really tough when it comes to police work. Whatever it is, he’ll get to the bottom of it.”

      “That’s good.” Gabe smiled weakly. “I just hope that when he gets there, the bottom doesn’t drop out.”

      DECKER’S FIRST CALL was to his favorite detective, Sergeant Marge Dunn. “I’ve got a situation here. I could use some help.”

      “What’s going on?” In the next breath, she said, “Is it something to do with Terry McLaughlin?”

      “She’s missing.” After he explained the state of affairs, Decker said, “She has a sister and a father in town. I’ve already called her sister, Melissa—apprised her of the situation. She hasn’t heard from Terry in a few days. She also told me not to bother with the father. The two of them are barely civil to each other.”

      “Did she sound worried?”

      “Yes, she did. She told me that Terry would never leave Gabe without a good reason. I told her I’d keep her updated. As far as finding Donatti, I’ve called up all the numbers I have for him and left messages. That’s been a dead end. He owns some brothels in Nevada. I got hold of a receptionist who told me that Chris wasn’t due in until tomorrow afternoon.”

      “That means nothing.”

      “Of course. I’ve phoned Elko PD and have asked them to tell me when he comes into town.”

      “Are they cooperating?”

      “Hard to tell. The brothels make a slew of money, so it could be that the department wouldn’t be anxious to give up one of their own. I’m trying to retrace Donatti’s steps, starting with when he came into L.A. I’m checking commercial airlines, leasing companies, and jet card companies. And rental car companies. He has to be driving something, but I haven’t had any luck with that.”

      “Have you done a search of the hotel?”

      “Not yet. If it shakes out that way, I’ll call West L.A. It’s their district. Right now, I’d like to handle it myself…with a little help.”

      “I’m on my way.”

      “I came back to the hotel from dinner…turned around as soon as the kid called. I don’t have any of my kits or evidence bags with me.”

      “Is something amiss?”

      “No, it seems to be pretty much as I left it. There’s a drinking glass I’d like to bag.”

      “I’ll bring the stuff down with me.”

      “I can think of only two reasons why Terry would leave without notifying her kid. Something scared her off or she had a gun to her head. She took her purse, her keys, and her car, but she left behind a wad of money and her jewelry.”

      “Oy, that doesn’t look too good. Didn’t you say that the meeting between them went well?”

      “I thought it did. But Donatti is unpredictable.” He gave Marge the address. “It’ll take you about forty minutes without bad traffic.”

      “Where’s the boy?”

      “He’s with Rina. I’m keeping him at our house for the night.”

      There was a pause. “Aren’t you getting a little overinvolved?”

      “You should talk,” Decker snapped back. “If you hadn’t adopted Vega after that Father Jupiter debacle, she would have been declared a ward of the state and placed into the state foster care program. She would have probably become a delinquent, gotten pregnant ten times, been hooked on drugs, and turned into a prostitute. Instead, you got overinvolved and now Vega is almost done with her dissertation for a PhD in astrophysics. So you tell me if I’m wrong to get a little overinvolved.”

      There was a long pause over the line. Then Marge said, “Hard day, Pete?”

      “A little challenging.”

      “I’ll see you soon.”

      “Sooner is better than later.”

      MARGE ARRIVED WITH the kits, the bags, and the gloves. She had put on a little weight in the last year but almost all of it was muscle. At five ten, she was a lean one-sixty and had added workouts in the gym as part of her daily routine. Her face had lines across her forehead and faint spiderwebs crisscrossing at the corners of her brown eyes. Her blond hair—formerly light brown—was tied back in a ponytail and she had pearl studs in each earlobe. She had dressed in gray slacks and a black sweater, rubber-soled shoes on her feet.

      “Thanks for showing up,” Decker said.

      “Someone has to take you home,” Marge told him.

      It took the two of them over three hours to conduct


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