mouth.
The crowd in the Fantasy Club picked up. Businessmen in ties sat at tables side by side with truckers and farmworkers. True democracy. There was a stirring behind the curtain on the stage, and somebody clapped. It looked like the show was about to begin.
“We need to tell the police,” I said.
Tracy’s head whipped around toward me.
“No,” she said, the same edge in her voice. She turned to Liann. “You said I didn’t have to.”
Liann gave me a quick glance, letting me know I was crossing some boundary. She leaned in toward Tracy and adopted the motherly pose again, speaking to the young woman in a gentle, comforting tone of voice.
“You said you wanted to help,” Liann said to her. “And this is the way to help. This is the way to make a difference. The only way to find this guy is to call the police. I’ll watch out for you and make sure they don’t bullshit you.”
But Tracy shook her head. She pushed back from the table and grabbed her gym bag.
“You didn’t say anything about the police, Liann. You told me no cops. You know that’s how it has to be. You know that. I trusted you.”
She stood up, a swirl of motion, and not even Liann calling her name slowed her down as she walked away. So I stood up and said her name, louder than I’d intended apparently. Tracy stopped and so did a lot of other people. They were all looking at me, their heads half cocked, their mouths partly open. Some of them smirked, and others nudged their friends as if to say,
“Tracy, wait. Wait!”
She stopped in her tracks, her back to me. She didn’t turn around, didn’t encourage me, but she appeared to be waiting. Listening.
My audience listened as well.
“This is my daughter,” I said. “Like you said, you’d want someone to help your little girl if she needed it.”
Someone let out a long, sarcastic “
Tracy still didn’t move.
“Please, Tracy. You’re our only lead here.”
I couldn’t see her face. I couldn’t read what she was thinking or if my words were sinking in at all.
“I don’t like the police,” she said, her voice small and childlike.
“Liann’s right,” I said. “They have to be involved. They can help us.”
Tracy didn’t say anything else, but her head moved ever so slightly. A quick nod with her eyes squeezed shut. It looked like surrender.
“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you.”
Chapter Seven
A dark sedan entered the parking lot of the Fantasy Club and came toward the building. It was Detective Ryan. Liann and I stood next to each other while he parked and exited the car. Ryan was taller than me and thick through the middle, with a bushy mustache that more than compensated for his thinning hair. His belt buckle always hung low, beneath his gut, and Ryan frequently used his large, powerful hands to hitch his pants higher. He had come to us the day Caitlin disappeared and he led the investigation the entire time. Early on, he was a comforting presence in our house, a distant but protective father with the power to restore order.
We shook hands as he stepped into the glow from the Fantasy Club’s entrance lights. They were orange and yellow and cast Ryan in a surreal wash. I knew Ryan wouldn’t like seeing Liann there. She asked questions and second-guessed the police in a way that must have made Ryan feel like he was getting nibbled to death by ducks. But I always appreciated Liann’s efforts. I figured the more questions being asked, the more pressure being exerted, the greater the likelihood something good would result and Caitlin would be found. Ryan nodded at Liann, his lips pursed into a forced smile.
I gave Ryan a quick rundown of what had happened, with Liann filling in details when needed. He listened, not saying anything or commenting in any way. Ryan wore what I thought of as a cop mask. He kept his face impassive regardless of the circumstance and frequently began his sentences with the phrase “I don’t have a horse in this race. .” But I never failed to notice the way his eyes appraised me while I spoke, absorbing my every gesture or inflection and recording it somewhere.
When I’d told him all there was to know, he still didn’t say anything, so I pushed.
“So what do you think?”
“I think I need to talk to this woman,” he said. “If she seems credible, maybe we can get a sketch of this guy out to the media.”
At last, something. A step might be taken.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you, Ryan,” Liann said.
Ryan looked a little startled, like he’d forgotten Liann was there.
“Oh?”
“She doesn’t trust the police. She’s been in some trouble, so getting you to talk to her is going to be a tough sell.”
“Nobody likes talking to the police, Liann. Tom, do you like talking to the police?” I could tell it was a rhetorical question, and Ryan didn’t allow me to answer. “But sometimes we just don’t have a choice, do we?” he said.
“I really had to work on her just to get her to tell the story to Tom,” Liann said. “I’d like to be there when you go inside to talk to her.”
Ryan shook his head. “Negative.”
“I’m acting as her counsel,” Liann said. “She has that right.”
Ryan made a snorting noise that might have been a laugh. “Liann, make up your mind. When you want to be a lawyer, you act like a lawyer and work cases. But when you want to be a victims’ rights crusader, you put on that hat and ride herd over the police and the prosecutor’s office and everybody else.” He raised his index finger in the air. “You don’t always play well with others, and you haven’t stored up many favors with the police.” He dropped the finger. “Besides, this girl doesn’t need counsel. Not that I’m aware of anyway.”
“Let me go back,” I said.
“No.” Ryan’s voice took on an edge. “In fact, why don’t the two of you clear on out? I’ll call you when I know something.”
“Forget it,” I said. “I’ll wait here. I want to talk to you as soon as you come out.”
Ryan studied me again, then nodded. He took a step toward the door, but Liann stopped him.
“Look, Ryan,” she said. “That’s a scared girl in there. She’s lived a tough life. So none of your storm trooper bullshit, okay? She’s not a criminal; she’s a witness. She has rights.”
“Are you saying criminals don’t have rights?” the detective asked. Liann started to respond, but he held up his hand and cut her off. “I know how to do my job, Liann. I know how to handle witnesses, and I know how to handle criminals. And I do know the difference between the two, even without you on my back. And I’ll even go a step further-thank you for bringing her to our attention. I do appreciate it.”
Liann still looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. I didn’t care about their back-and-forth, their little power plays and gamesmanship. I wanted to know something else, something most important to me.
“Ryan, wait,” I said. “I forgot to ask her something, that woman in there-Tracy.” I searched for the right words. “I wanted to know if she thought. . did she think Caitlin was. . I know she wasn’t okay, of course, but. . was she-is she okay?”
Ryan came over and placed his big hand on my shoulder. Beyond a handshake, I don’t think he’d ever touched me before. I felt like a little boy being comforted, and it was reassuring.
