was in charge. Where were the Americans?
'I'm Grace Rodriguez,' she said softly. 'Thank you for seeing me.'
'Thank you for coming in,' said the lieutenant called Sanchez.
Grace sniffed, trying to hold on to her composure. Cops were tough, she knew. And her child was illegitimate, named after a seventies folk singer. Her Dylan had turned out to be as strange as the singer was, a weird duck, delicate as glass-and missing since yesterday. Grace felt ashamed about having to describe her difficult child like an item for the lost and found. The two cops waited.
'Maslow Atkins is my boss's son,' she said, flushing deeply.
The two exchanged glances. 'Take your time.'
'I don't know whether you have spoken with Mr. Atkins. I asked him to tell you about us, but-' Grace sniffed. 'Well, he's a very private person.'
The Spanish lieutenant nodded. He seemed like a nice man. Grace chewed on her lip. She hadn't wanted it to come out this way. She hadn't wanted to harm her daughter. She'd wanted her and Jerry's story to end well. She'd always expected it would. Now her hopes were down the toilet. She could never trust him, never be with him again. She cared only for her daughter. Saving Dylan. The two cops waited. She took a deep breath. 'Jerome Atkins and I have a daughter. Our daughter, Dylan, is twenty and missing since yesterday.' There, she said it. Her eyes overflowed and tears coursed down her face.
She couldn't help it. The Chinese detective passed over the tissue box. Grace took one and pressed it to her face.
'I'm sorry. I haven't been able to tell anyone about this. It's been hard. No one knows about my life. I'm sorry.'
'No problem. We cry all the time, don't we, Lieutenant?' Woo said.
The lieutenant nodded. 'Your daughter, Dylan, does she know her half-brother, Maslow?'
Grace shook her head. 'Jerry didn't want Maslow to know about us. So, I didn't think so. But Dylan found out about her half-brother years ago. She's always been passionately interested in knowing him. Her father was dead against it.'
'And when did Dylan contact him?' this from the Chinese.
'Ahh, well, she might have been following him. I don't think they knew each other. Dylan promised her father that she wouldn't contact him. But she was angry at him and… you know kids. They don't always keep their promises.' Grace dabbed at her eyes.
'Angry at… Maslow?'
'No, her father.'
The two detectives exchanged glances again. Grace was afraid she'd said something she shouldn't have.
'Maybe I'm wrong. I'm just-I'm very upset. I don't know where she is, and he's missing, too. It's all so horrible. Both of them missing. It's-'
'Miss Rodriguez, did you know your daughter is seeing a psychiatrist?'
Grace was shocked. 'Dylan? No. She would never- what makes you think that?'
'Do you have a photo of her?' Sanchez asked.
'Um, not with me. I can get one.' Grace put the tissue to her nose. A psychiatrist? Where was this leading? Had Dylan gone crazy? Was she in a hospital?
Sergeant Woo pulled a thick stack of photos out of her purse and shuffled through them. Finally she found the one she was looking for. 'Is this Dylan?'
Grace took the picture and stared at it. Her daughter's thin face stared out at her from a frame of long black hair.
'Where did you get this?' Grace was astounded. 'It was taken yesterday afternoon at Maslow Atkins's office.'
'No!' Grace couldn't believe it.
'Maslow is a psychiatrist. Dylan was in treatment with him. She called herself Allegra Caldera. When we spoke with her, she was waiting for her five p.m. appointment.'
Grace closed her eyes. A little tear squeezed out. She never would have imagined that her daughter could devise such a scheme. Amazing. Dylan had outwitted her father and found her own way to get to know her brother. Grace dabbed at her wet eyes. She couldn't help feeling a little surge of pride at her daughter's ingenuity. Waiting for her appointment! So there had been a man in her life. A brother. A giggle erupted from her throat like a bubble in a fish tank. Dylan had a touch of her father's deviousness. 'Where is she?' she asked.
'Maslow and Dylan had a fight on Tuesday afternoon, and Dylan may be the last person who saw him before he disappeared,' Woo was saying.
'What?' The fabric of Grace's suit was soaked under the arms.
'She was seen with him just before he went into the park.'
Grace was confused. 'But you said you saw her yesterday in his office. Did she know why you were there? Did you know who she was?'
'Yes, she knew we were looking for Maslow. No, she didn't tell us she was his sister. She was pretending to be someone else. She didn't appear to know he was missing.'
'Well, how did your conversation end? Where did she go? You don't suspect her of anything…?' The question hung in the air.
The Chinese woman spoke softly. 'I told her I wanted to talk with her again. She said that was fine with her, gave me a fake telephone number, and took off.' Sergeant Woo looked as disturbed by the whole thing as Grace was.
The lieutenant got up quickly and left the two women alone together. The Chinese detective kept her for a long time asking her many questions about Dylan's life and her activities in the last few months, but although Grace talked a great deal, she didn't seem to know her daughter very well.
Fifty
At half past one David and Brandy were back on the East Side having cheeseburgers in the Plaza Diner. Brandy had finished hers and was chewing on one of her waffle fries when her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her knapsack and watched her mother's home number pop up.
'Hey, Mom, what's up?' she answered, feeling pretty good about herself and her day.
'Oh, God, Brandy! I'm so glad you're alive,' Cheryl cried.
'Of course, I'm alive. What's the matter? You sound weird.'
'Jesus H. Christ. I just got a call from a detective. That's what's the matter. Do I need this right now? Do I?'
'Is Dad spying on you again, Mom? I thought that was all over.'
'It's not that kind of detective. It's a police detective, and it's not about
'Me? Wow.'
'Where were you last night? I want to know what the fuck you've been up to, you little bitch.'
Brandy took a French fry and doused it in catsup. 'Mom, you know it hurts my feelings when you talk to me that way.'
'Brandy, you get me all upset. I swear to God you're a menace. I hate to think about it. Where the hell are you?'
'I'm in the locker room at school. I'm getting ready for gym. And you should speak a little softer. Everybody can hear you, Mom. Do you want them to think you're crazy?'
'Listen to me. I'm going to speak as loud as I fucking please, you hear me? What are you trying to do, ruin my life?'
'I don't know what you're talking about. I was at home with you. You had your plastic surgery, remember? You were feeling like shit. I was keeping you company.'
'You were not keeping me company. I have no memory of that.'
