Kidnapped

“When will the story run?” he asked.

“Up to my editor,” I answered absently as I looked through his notes. “Next week maybe, but no guarantees. A breaking story could change everything. And I can’t guarantee how much of what I write will get in.” I glanced up and saw that his shoulders were slumping. I had disappointed him-or dealt another blow. I thought back over what I had just said and wanted to kick myself. “I can call you and let you know once my editor makes his decisions.”

“Yes, thanks.” He straightened his back. “I’ve waited this long, I guess another few days won’t matter.”

I tried to distract him by going over his notebook with him.

As we left, he teared up again. “Thanks for all you’re doing to help out,” he said.

I made a polite reply, but wondered if six months from now I’d be a name on a ledger, next to which he would write, Nothing.

CHAPTER 30

Wednesday, April 26

6:30 P.M.

LAS PIERNAS

WE had just put di

Frank answered it, and Ethan and I exchanged a look of surprise when we heard him say, “Caleb!”

He invited him in.

“Sorry to bother you,” Caleb said, and as he came within sight of the table, he began apologizing again.

“Have you eaten?” I asked. “Why don’t you join us? This is my semifamous linguini with asparagus. I’ll be insulted if you don’t at least try it.”

He protested that we shouldn’t have to feed him every night, that he’d just stopped by to drop off some notes for me and to ask if I had talked to Tadeo Garcia.

“I haven’t talked to him directly,” I said carefully. “I talked to his wife. She invited us to come out there on Monday. We’ll see if that actually leads to an interview with Tadeo Garcia himself. He may pull a disappearing act if he figures out that she’s invited us there.”

By then, Ethan had set a place for Caleb at the table, and it didn’t take much coaxing to get him to join us.

“You said ‘us,’” Caleb said. “Does that mean that Ethan can go with you?”

“Dr. Robinson said it would be okay,” Ethan said.

“Under certain conditions,” I added.

“Believe me,” Ethan said, “‘Take it easy’ isn’t an order I could disobey if I wanted to.”

“I think the good doctor is on to the fact that you’ll keep testing your own limits.” I turned back to Caleb.

This led to twenty minutes of the kind of di

Eventually talk turned to the case of Gerry Serre and his missing son.

“Not to speak ill of the dead,” Caleb said, “but we’ve dug up most of that slope because of the big ego of the late Sheila Dolson. Didn’t find the remains of a child there.”

“I talked to Mark Baker,” I said. “He told Reed about the family dentist who unwittingly supplied those teeth she planted, and got a little information in exchange. Reed mentioned-off the record for the time being-that some cigarette butts were found up there. So the killer was a smoker?”

“Seems likely to me,” Caleb said, “because of where they were found-but I shouldn’t be talking about it. We’re hoping they’ll result in a DNA hit at some point.”

By the end of di

“The prosecutor said that Mason went over to my dad’s studio, had an argument with him, killed him, and then killed Je

“What makes you think so?” I asked.

“Start with Je

“Why?”

“We didn’t-We weren’t like these people who have na

He fell silent.

“Preschoolers can try anyone’s patience,” I said. “She lived under the same roof with you, so you probably had your patience tried. You were studying hard, still in high school, right?”

“Yes,” he said, not forgiving himself anything.

“What did Mason do?”

“He was-He’s an artist.”

“He worked with your dad?”

Caleb shook his head. “No, they didn’t get along about that. My dad wanted Mason to work with him. He wanted to teach him things about art. But Mason wanted to be on his own. He had already sold a couple of pieces.”

“He was able to support himself with his own art?” Frank asked.

“No, he had a band, too. Played keyboards. He wasn’t making a lot of money, but they had a steady gig at one of the clubs downtown.”

“You were saying that he watched Je

“No-I mean yes, he watched Je

“So he knew Je

“Exactly-no way would that be a surprise.”

“Okay,” Frank said. “But he was found drunk-”

“That’s another thing that’s all wrong,” he said.

“Drunk and full of barbiturates, as I recall.”

“That’s how he was found, but he didn’t put himself in that condition. He didn’t drink or use drugs.”

Ethan, who had almost nodded off, sat up at that. “What?”

Caleb laced his fingers together and rested his hands on the papers. His shoulders tensed. “No one ever believes this,” he said, “unless they knew Mason. The minute they hear he was an artist, or learn that he was in a band, they assume he must have been high all the time. He wasn’t.”

Ethan said, “I know what you mean about the stereotypes, but speaking from experience, some people get pretty good at hiding their habits.”

Caleb looked up at him.

“Another time,” Ethan said. “Keep telling us about Mason.”

Caleb’s shoulders relaxed. “Okay. When Mason was in high school, he dated this girl named Jadia. She was kind of wild, a little bit of a loner, and so was Mason. You talk about people who could hide their habits-that girl drank and did who-knows-what else, but until it got kind of late in the day, you’d hardly know it.”

“And Mason was with her a lot?”

“Not really. Typical high-school romance-didn’t last more than a few weeks. That was long enough for Mason to figure out that she had a drinking problem.” He paused. “I know that a couple of years before he met her, he was ru