The doorbell rang.
Guy Novak turned to it. His body tensed.
“Dad?”
“I’ll get it,” he said.
He started for the front door. The two girls followed, keeping a little distance. Beth was there. Mr. Novak looked out the little window, frowned, opened the door. A woman stood in the doorway. Jill looked at Yasmin. Yasmin shook her head. This woman was not Mr. Lewiston’s wife.
Mr. Novak said, “Can I help you?”
The woman peeked behind him, saw the girls, then looked back up at Yasmin’s dad.
“Are you Guy Novak?” the woman asked.
“Yes.”
“My name is Loren Muse. Can we talk a moment in private?”
LOREN Muse stood in the doorway.
She spotted the two little girls behind Guy Novak. One was probably his daughter, the other, well, maybe she belonged to the woman standing behind them both. The woman, she quickly noted, was not Reba Cordova. The woman looked fine and fairly relaxed, but you never know. Muse kept her eyes on her, looking for some sort of signal to show that she was under duress.
There were no signs of blood or trauma in the foyer. The girls looked a little timid but otherwise okay. Before she rang the bell, Muse had pressed her ear against the door. She’d heard nothing unusual, just Guy Novak calling upstairs about popcorn and a movie.
“What’s this about?” Guy Novak asked.
“I think it would be better if we talked alone.”
She stressed the word “alone,” hoping he would get the hint. He didn’t.
“Who are you?” he asked.
Muse did not want to identify herself as a law enforcement officer with the girls still in the room, so she leaned in, glanced at the girls, and then looked him hard in the eye. “I think it would be better in private, Mr. Novak.”
He finally got the message. He turned back to the woman and said, “Beth, would you take the girls into the kitchen and give them popcorn?”
“Of course.”
Muse watched them slip out of the room. She was trying to read Guy Novak. He seemed a little on edge, but something about his manner suggested that he was more irritated with her surprise arrival than truly scared.
Clarence Morrow and Frank Tremont, along with a few local cops, were nearby. They were surreptitiously checking around. There was still faint hope that maybe Guy Novak had kidnapped Reba Cordova and was holding her here, but as the seconds passed, that seemed less and less likely.
Guy Novak did not invite her in. “Well?”
Muse flashed her badge.
“You’re kidding me,” he said. “Did the Lewistons call you?”
Muse had no idea who the Lewistons were, but she decided to go with it. She made a yes-no gesture with a head tilt.
“I can’t believe this. All I did was drive by their house. That’s all. Since when is that against the law?”
“Depends,” Muse said.
“On what?”
“On your intentions.”
Guy Novak pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Do you know what that man did to my daughter?”
She had no idea, but whatever it was, it had clearly agitated Guy Novak. That pleased her-she could work with that.
“I’ll listen to your side,” she said.
He started railing then about something a teacher had said about his daughter. Muse watched his face. Again, like with Neil Cordova, she got no sense that this was an act for her benefit. He ranted about the injustice of what had been done to his little girl, Yasmin, and how this teacher didn’t even get a slap on the wrist.
When he took a breath, Muse asked, “How does your wife feel about this?”
“I’m not married.”
Muse knew that already. “Oh, I thought the woman who was with the girls…”
“Beth. She’s just a friend.”
Again she waited him out, seeing what else he would tell her.
He took a few deep breaths and said, “Okay, I got the message.”
“The message?”
“I assume the Lewistons called to complain. Message received. I will review my options with my lawyer.”
This track was leading nowhere, Muse thought. Time to shift gears. “Can I ask you something else?”
“I guess.”
“How did Yasmin’s mother react to all this?”
His eyes narrowed. “Why would you ask that?”
“It’s not an unreasonable question.”
“Yasmin’s mother isn’t very involved in her life.”
“Still. A big event like this.”
“Marianne ran out on us when Yasmin was little. She lives in Florida and sees her daughter maybe four or five times a year.”
“When was the last time she was up?”
He frowned. “What does that have to do with… wait a minute, can I see your badge again?”
Muse took it out. This time he studied it. “You’re county?”
“Yes.”
“Do you mind if I call your office and verify that this is legitimate?”
“Suit yourself.” Muse reached into her pocket and pulled out a card. “Here.”
He read it out loud. “Loren Muse, Chief Investigator.”
“Yep.”
“Chief,” he repeated. “What are you, a personal friend of the Lewistons?”
Again Muse wondered if this was a clever act or if Guy Novak was for real.
“Tell me when you last saw your ex-wife.”
He rubbed his chin. “I thought you said this was about the Lewistons.”
“Please just answer my question. When was the last time you saw your ex-wife?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“Why was she here?”
“She came up to visit Yasmin.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“Not really. She picked up Yasmin. She promised that she’d have her back by a certain time. Marianne usually keeps to that. She doesn’t like to spend a lot of time with her daughter.”
“Have you spoken to her since?”
“No.”
“Uh-huh. Do you know where she usually stayed when she visited?”
“At the Travelodge near the mall.”
“Are you aware she’s been staying there for the past four nights?” He looked surprised. “She said she was heading to Los Angeles.”
“When did she tell you that?”
“I got an e-mail from her, uh, I don’t know. Yesterday I think.”
“May I see it?”
“The e-mail? I deleted it.”
“Do you know if your ex-wife had a boyfriend?”
Something approaching a sneer crossed his face. “I’m sure she had several but I wouldn’t know about it.”
“Any men in this area?”
“There were men in every area.”
'Any names?”
Guy Novak shook his head. “I wouldn’t know or care.”
“Why so bitter, Mr. Novak?”
“I don’t know if ‘bitter’ is the right word anymore.” He took off his glasses, frowned at some speck of dirt, tried to clean them with his shirt. “I loved Marianne, but she really didn’t earn it. If you’re being kind, you would call her self-destructive. This town bored her. I bored her. Life bored her. She was a serial cheater. She abandoned her own daughter and then became nothing but a source of disappointment. Two years ago Marianne promised Yasmin she’d take her to Disney World. She called me the day before the trip and canceled. No reason.”
“Do you pay alimony or child support?”
“Neither. I have sole custody.”
