Giulia exploded, jumping up. “When are you guys gonna wise up aroun’ here? Did you see those pictures? What more do you want? She could be dead, and all you guys worry about is whose job it is not to do!”
“Whoa, settle down.” Brinkley put up his hands, and Mary stepped between him and the crazed Goretti girl.
“Giulia, basta!” She shot her dagger-eyes and turned to Brinkley. “We know there are jurisdictional issues, but this really seems like a hybrid case, between Missing Persons and Homicide. We have proof-positive from the diary that Trish is in danger and that her boyfriend’s a mobster. He’s a man with the means and the wherewithal to kill.”
“I see that.”
“So if you spoke with Missing Persons, I’m sure they’d understand it’s not the typical situation. Maybe they’ll give Trish’s case some attention. Speed things up, or put out an APB or something.”
“You know they have their hands full with the Donchess case. Amber Alerts get priority, it’s state law.” Brinkley gestured toward the door. “You saw the press outside. It’s the Lindbergh baby.”
Giulia interjected, “There’s another baby, now? Those effin babies can just wait their turn.”
Mary hushed her again. “Reg, Trish can’t be far, and if we find her, maybe we can prevent her murder. Doesn’t an abused woman deserve an Amber Alert, too? Why are we making value judgments between victims, anyway? Besides, the press doesn’t run the police department, does it?”
“Don’t pull that on me, Mare.”
“But it’s right, isn’t it?” Mary felt desperate. Brinkley was her best and only chance. “I would never ask you for help if the case didn’t merit it. Trish was terrified in my office. He’s going to kill her, if he hasn’t already.”
“Come on, help us already!” Giulia held up her cell phone over Mary’s shoulder. “We have photos of her, right here!”
“The Mob angle makes this tougher for us, you know.” Brinkley puckered his lips, still deciding. “The feds won’t like us moving ahead without checking in. For all we know, they’re watching him already.”
Mary hadn’t thought of that, and Brinkley nodded.
“You know how it is when the feds get involved.”
“They make a federal case out of it,” Giulia blurted out, like a schoolgirl with the right answer. Brinkley wasn’t mean enough to make her feel dumb. Mary was, but she didn’t have the time right now.
“On the other hand,” she said, “if we find Trish alive, she’ll be inclined to turn state’s evidence against him. Wouldn’t the FBI like that? Wouldn’t that be a coup for them and the department?”
Brinkley thought a minute, looked from Mary to Giulia, and emitted a final sigh. “Tell you what, ladies. I’ll do my thing if you make me a deal.”
“What deal?” Mary asked, and Giulia came out from behind her.
“Anything.”
“No more searching houses or finding witnesses. No more playing cop, either of you. You’re out of your league.” Brinkley folded his arms. “What do you say?”
Mary felt her heart leap, with hope. “Point of clarification. I assume some self-help is okay, like we can send out flyers about her, can’t we?”
“Yeah, but keep it low-key. Don’t talk to the press until I get back to you.”
“Time matters, Reg.”
“I know that, having been in law enforcement longer than you.” Brinkley half-smiled. “Don’t push your luck. Gimme an hour. I’ll call you back. Do we have a deal?”
“Deal. Thank you.” Mary kept her reaction subdued. Brinkley wasn’t the effusive type, and if he’d said that much, she knew he’d give it his all. When you win, get out of the courtroom.
“I LOVE YOU!” Giulia shouted, throwing herself into the arms of a very startled Reg Brinkley.
After a minute, he didn’t look like he minded much.
Outside the Roundhouse, Mary stopped Giulia’s hand before it reached into her handbag. “Wait on the smoking, please. I need oxygen.”
“Okay, but only ’cause you did so good in there. I didn’t know you had it in you.” Giulia smiled with temporary admiration. “You really handled that detective, Mare.”
“I didn’t handle him. He’s a good guy and he’ll help if he can.”
“It’s really who you know, not what you know, like they say.”
Mary let it go. “Where’s Missy and Yolanda?” she asked, and they looked around the parking lot, which buzzed with activity.
“There, flirtin’ with those guys.” Giulia pointed across the lot, where Missy and Yolanda were chatting up two good-looking men in suits and a wiry bicycle messenger.
“Okay, forget them. You’re in charge. You heard Brinkley, he said it’s okay to send out a flyer. Here’s what you gotta do. You’re good online, right?”
“Sure. I got a MySpace and I watch porn, like everybody else.”
Mary let that go, too. Then she didn’t. “You watch porn?”
“Yeah.”
“But you’re a girl.”
“Yeah, so?” Giulia shrugged.
Right the first time. “Anyway, let’s use some self-help. Take the photo from your cell phone and e-mail it to everybody you know. Find some missing persons sites and post the photos there. Put it on your MySpace page and everywhere online that you can.”
“Good idea, Mare. We don’t want to waste any time.”
“Right, and make a flyer, in hard copy.”
Giulia nodded. “Like when you lose a dog?”
Uh. “Yes. You know what it should say?”
“Yeah.”
“You want me to write it down?”
“Nah, I got it.”
“Do that right away.”
“I know, I know.” Giulia stamped her little black boots. “Come on, I’m jonesin’ for a cigarette.”
“I’m going back to work, to check in. Call me and tell me your progress with the flyer. We’ll meet again in an hour.”
“When am I gonna see that diary?”
“Never.” Mary hustled out of the parking lot, with a final wave to Missy and Yolanda, who were laughing with the men and didn’t notice her. She unsheathed her BlackBerry while she hailed a cab, hit the number for voicemail, then heard the first message.
Which was very bad news.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“W hat happened?” Mary said, as soon as she hit Judy’s office. She’d tried to call her on the cab ride to the office, but she kept getting the voicemail, so she’d used the time to return other calls and e-mails. By the time she got back, her head was exploding and she could be liable for malpractice.
“I’m so sorry.” Judy hung up the phone. “I was just about to call you.” Sunlight poured through the window behind her, backlighting her hair and setting her fuchsia dress aglow. A half-eaten tofu salad and a bottle of Fiji water fought for desktop with messy notes, a laptop, correspondence, pencils and pens, and a Magic 8 Ball.
“Not your fault. Nunez wouldn’t go forward with the deposition?” Mary deflated into the chair in front of the desk.
“Not without you.” Judy looked regretful, puckering her lower lip. “I told him you had an emergency, but he just got rattled.”
“Oh no. Poor guy.”
