First Victim

lose our suspect.’’

‘‘You worry too much,’’ LaMoia said. ‘‘What about a random credit check on a handful of LSO workers that just happens to turn up Klein. She has got to have some unexplained money in her pockets if she’s good for this. ’’

‘‘But what made us run the check of LSO employees in the first place?’’ Boldt asked.

‘‘I see what you mean.’’

‘‘It has to be a believable trail. Then we never mention McNeal.’’ Boldt asked, ‘‘What about Coughlie? Maybe his people already have suspicions that there’s documentation coming out of the LSOs. Something like that could make the connection for us.’’

‘‘Not a good idea. I wouldn’t go there. He paid her a visit first thing this morning.’’

‘‘

Before

we found the body at Hilltop?’’

‘‘Right. Was with McNeal for the better part of an hour.’’

‘‘She

has

been busy.’’

‘‘We gotta figure they’re working together somehow.’’

‘‘Information exchange,’’ Boldt suggested. ‘‘He promises her an exclusive to the story as long as there’s a two-way flow of information.’’

‘‘And they’re cutting us out?’’ an exasperated LaMoia cried out. He added, ‘‘I hate that shit!’’

‘‘Just because he got to her first?’’ Boldt teased.

‘‘Exactly!’’ LaMoia added, ‘‘But he didn’t think to put her under surveillance.’’

‘‘Let’s hope not anyway.’’

LaMoia grimaced.

‘‘What if we asked Daphne to try to open her up for us?’’ Boldt suggested. ‘‘She seeds some doubts about Coughlie’s integrity, offers exclusivity with us?’’

‘‘End run the feds? That would be sweet! You want me to pull the surveillance? Is that what I’m hearing?’’

‘‘You’re hearing me concerned about the police getting caught for having the press under surveillance. It’s dangerous for all concerned, John. We’ve been over this.’’

‘‘McNeal is withholding key information to this case. She admitted that to my face. If she wasn’t press —’’

‘‘She is press. If we want her sources we go to court, not surveillance.’’

‘‘We gonna do this dance again?’’ LaMoia whined. ‘‘We go to court, it’ll be Christmas. This missing woman, and our case along with it, will be long gone. We’re protecting McNeal,’’ LaMoia reminded. ‘‘Her associate went missing with this same information. We believe those videotapes—and remember, I saw her leave the apartment with them—are pertinent to the case. We’ve got our bases covered on this, Sarge.’’

‘‘We’ve got Klein. Maybe we should stop while we’re still ahead.’’

‘‘But we aren’t ahead,’’ LaMoia reminded. ‘‘We’re still playing catch up.’’

‘‘Well let’s play catch-up at a distance. Shall we? And let’s close the gap as quickly as possible. This thing makes me nervous.’’

‘‘It’s a way of life for you. If you weren’t worried I’d be worried.

Boldt said, ‘‘That would be a first.’’

They studied the area once more before breaking up and leaving the bench. They walked in opposite directions without ever having talked about a plan. It seemed symbolic to Boldt—LaMoia, two years into his sergeant’s stripes, was increasingly difficult to control.

CHAPTER 28

tevie was applying the last touches of blush when her name was called over KSTV’s public address system. She called reception as requested, one eye fixed on herself in the large mirror surrounded by dazzlingly bright lights that mimicked the brightness of the set. Her guest was identified as Daphne Matthews—Seattle Police. The woman from the cemetery who had tried to protect her.

An intern delivered the woman to Makeup. Without the raincoat and hood, Matthews came off as quite pretty. Dark features on olive skin. Her presence put Stevie on guard. She was conditioned not to trust the cops.

Daphne had a job to do. She lived for the fieldwork the way Boldt did, and the fact that he had asked her to do this made it all the more important to her to succeed. He still had this effect on her, this unintentional yet underhanded control that for years she had fought to overcome. Struggled, was more like it. She could point her life this way or that, redirecting it as far away from him as possible—her on-again, off-again engagement to Owen Adler the most overt example— but inevitably her emotions returned to him. Comfort. Home.

She saw in his eyes that these feelings were reciprocated, though it went unmentioned between them. No hot glances. No teasing. Those days were behind them. He with his family and his wife, as passionate a father and husband as one could ask for; she, like a sailboat without its keel, pointing strongly into the wind but endlessly sideslipping and losing her course.

It was some kind of horrific joke, the way she tried to throw it away only to have it come boomeranging back at her. Those emotions for him. The desire that wormed hot like an infection deeply within her. If she heard his voice, she turned to look. If his name was spoken, she listened in—all the while wearing the mask of indifference. She understood that she had to move on. She believed it. But accomplishing it was something altogether different. All the education in the world could not explain this to her. Nothing seemed to help.

And so when he asked her to see McNeal for him, she responded immediately like a child eager to please the teacher—and she hated herself for it.

‘‘I’m on the set in a minute,’’ Stevie said, giving herself a way out.

‘‘This won’t take long.’’

‘‘We met at the cemetery, right?’’

‘‘Yes.’’ Daphne took a seat in one of the two padded swivel chairs that faced the bright mirror, but she turned to face Stevie, who in profile continued working with the blush. ‘‘I wanted to talk about Melissa. Anything you can provide us . . . It’s all a help to the investigation.’’

‘‘Such as the videotapes?’’

‘‘Evidence is LaMoia’s department. I’m more interested in her habits, lifestyle, friends, relationships—that sort of thing.’’

‘‘You’re a shrink?’’

‘‘A psychologist.’’

Stevie nodded, congratulating herself. ‘‘I didn’t have you pegged as a cop. This is making a lot more sense to me.’’

‘‘The thing about a missing persons case, Ms. McNeal, is that there are often leads that don’t get pursued for one reason or another. We know this from hindsight. From the—’’

‘‘—cases where they don’t come back . . . are never found,’’ Stevie completed.

‘‘We believe Melissa is still alive. That she’s either in hiding, or has been abducted, but that she’s alive.’’

‘‘And you base this on?’’

‘‘The fact that we haven’t found her body,’’ Daphne said bluntly, stunning the other woman. ‘‘They’re using