“We’re looking for them.”
“Have you spoken to the other Banks kids?”
“Yes.”
I turned back to Slidell.
“If this Tyree’s the scumbag you say he is, Geneva and her father could be in danger.”
“Uh-huh.”
I swallowed.
“Tamela and her family could already be dead.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, Doc. Far as I’m concerned, the faster we haul their asses to the bag, the better.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Ever heard of aiding and abetting?”
“Gideon Banks is in his seventies, for God’s sake. Geneva probably has the IQ of parsley.”
“How about obstructing justice, or accessory after the fact?”
“After
“Let’s start with infantalcide.” Slidell.
“The word is ‘infanticide,’ ” I snapped.
Slidell put a fist on each hip and leaned back, stretching his lower shirt buttons to their tensile limits.
“You wouldn’t have any idea as to the whereabouts of these folks, now, would you, Doc?”
“I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”
Slidell’s hands dropped and his head came forward. We glared across my desk, baboons challenging for first dibs at the watering hole.
“Let’s talk about this other situation,” said Rinaldi.
As if on cue, a cell phone rang. Slidell scooped his out of a pocket. “Slidell.”
He listened a moment, then stepped into the hall.
I looked Rinaldi straight in the eye.
“When I was describing what we found in that privy yesterday, something clicked for you.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Something in your eyes.”
Rinaldi tugged his shirt cuffs from underneath his jacket and smoothed them against his wrists.
“Have you completed your examination of the skull and hand bones?”
“It tops my agenda.”
The fluorescents hummed overhead. Slidell’s voice drifted in from the hall.
“Who is this Darryl Tyree?” I asked.
“A pimp, a drug dealer, and a pornographer. Although I’m not sure that’s the order Mr. Tyree uses on his resume. Let me know what you decide about the skull.”
Rinaldi started toward the door just as Joe Hawkins appeared in it. Both men stopped. Hawkins reached past Rinaldi and handed me a large brown envelope.
I thanked him. Hawkins withdrew.
Rinaldi did a slow turn and rolled his eyes in his partner’s direction.
“Skinny can be a bit gruff. But he’s a good cop. Don’t worry, Dr. Brennan. We’ll find the Bankses.”
At that moment Slidell stuck his head through the door.
“Looks like Green Acres ain’t the crime scene for the privy vic.”
Rinaldi and I waited for him to continue.
“CSU shined a LumaLite around the place this morning.” Though Slidell smiled, the corners of his mouth stayed flat. “No blood. Dark as a mall on Christmas Day.”
When Rinaldi and Slidell had gone, I took Hawkins’s envelope to the stinky room and began popping X rays onto the light boxes.
Each film inspired a fresh title for Slidell.
Dork.
Prick.
One-syllable appellations worked best. Unless a corner slipped and the film needed readjustment.
Asshole.
