compartmentalize her thoughts. I knew she had put the issue of the missing boy aside while she concentrated on the dead nurse. She cared about the boy—everyone did: there were AMBER Alerts and volunteer search teams and media blanketing our town—but Maggie had been given the nurse’s banner to carry into battle, and that was where her allegiance lay.
I tried to read her thoughts. There was a connection building between Maggie and the nurse. I did not know if I had simply gotten better at reading Maggie’s emotions and this was a connection she forged with all victims, or if she felt an unexpected kinship with the nurse because they had their solitary lives in common. Whatever the cause, Maggie went through sadness, regret, fear, and a little bit of fury. I found that flicker of anger interesting. Fury at someone unknown who had killed the nurse—or fury at someone in her own life who had loved her and left her? But who could ever do such a thing? Who would leave someone like Maggie?
We reached the station at the same time as my old lady friend, Noni Bates. She was not alone. A well-dressed man in his early forties was gallantly helping her from a late model Lexus. He held a briefcase and wore expensive shoes. Dollars to doughnuts he was a lawyer, maybe even a good one. He was definitely a well-paid one. I had expected Noni to bring a fussy, old, retired lawyer to Robert Michael Martin’s rescue, perhaps one with bushy, white eyebrows and hair sprouting from his ears. But, of course, she had been a teacher and probably had a network of professionals from here to Shanghai she’d once taught and could forever call on.
It would take the two of them a while to get past the front desk sergeant, Freddy, who was in a bad mood because his wife was cheating on him with his brother. I knew this because one of the perks of being dead is that you know everyone’s secrets.
“But they may be questioning him right now,” Noni was telling Freddy.
“Not if he asked for a lawyer, they aren’t,” Freddy said politely, recognizing the steel in her voice and not wanting to antagonize her.
“He’s much too . . .” Noni paused. “He probably did not insist on one.”
Freddy shrugged. “I can’t help you there, ma’am. There’s no crime in being stupid.”
And stupid Robert Michael Martin was. Despite Noni’s warning, he had agreed to be questioned by Adrian Calvano without counsel present, believing his innocence would protect him.
I could have joined the interrogation and amused myself by making faces behind Calvano’s back, but I felt high-powered energy emanating from the observation room next door, and when Maggie headed for it, I drifted in behind her.
Gonzales shivered. “There’s a draft in here. Can you shut the door? I’ve got to get the air conditioning fixed.” Not a draft, my friend, just little old me.
“Anything shake loose?” Maggie asked.
Gonzales shook his head. “It’s the usual disaster.” He seemed to remember that a couple of department lawyers were standing behind him and amended his remarks. “I don’t think there is anything to shake out of him.”
We all peered through the one-way glass. Robert Michael Martin sat, perplexed, in a straight-back chair across from Calvano—who was hammering on the table between them with his fist. It seemed a little early in the performance to be pounding on tabletops, but that was Adrian Calvano for you: no finesse.
“So, you are admitting that you actually go by the park every single morning to watch the children?” Calvano shouted at him.
Martin looked like he was going to cry. I felt his fear, but something else, too. I concentrated on it until I had it: the more Calvano screamed, the more Martin seemed comfortable with it. Not only was he accustomed to being yelled at and ridiculed, he expected it. I felt even sadder for him. His mother must have been a real joy.
“I told you,” Martin said, his voice cracking. “I volunteer for
I tried to read her thoughts. There was a connection building between Maggie and the nurse. I did not know if I had simply gotten better at reading Maggie’s emotions and this was a connection she forged with all victims, or if she felt an unexpected kinship with the nurse because they had their solitary lives in common. Whatever the cause, Maggie went through sadness, regret, fear, and a little bit of fury. I found that flicker of anger interesting. Fury at someone unknown who had killed the nurse—or fury at someone in her own life who had loved her and left her? But who could ever do such a thing? Who would leave someone like Maggie?
We reached the station at the same time as my old lady friend, Noni Bates. She was not alone. A well-dressed man in his early forties was gallantly helping her from a late model Lexus. He held a briefcase and wore expensive shoes. Dollars to doughnuts he was a lawyer, maybe even a good one. He was definitely a well-paid one. I had expected Noni to bring a fussy, old, retired lawyer to Robert Michael Martin’s rescue, perhaps one with bushy, white eyebrows and hair sprouting from his ears. But, of course, she had been a teacher and probably had a network of professionals from here to Shanghai she’d once taught and could forever call on.
It would take the two of them a while to get past the front desk sergeant, Freddy, who was in a bad mood because his wife was cheating on him with his brother. I knew this because one of the perks of being dead is that you know everyone’s secrets.
“But they may be questioning him right now,” Noni was telling Freddy.
“Not if he asked for a lawyer, they aren’t,” Freddy said politely, recognizing the steel in her voice and not wanting to antagonize her.
“He’s much too . . .” Noni paused. “He probably did not insist on one.”
Freddy shrugged. “I can’t help you there, ma’am. There’s no crime in being stupid.”
And stupid Robert Michael Martin was. Despite Noni’s warning, he had agreed to be questioned by Adrian Calvano without counsel present, believing his innocence would protect him.
I could have joined the interrogation and amused myself by making faces behind Calvano’s back, but I felt high-powered energy emanating from the observation room next door, and when Maggie headed for it, I drifted in behind her.
Gonzales shivered. “There’s a draft in here. Can you shut the door? I’ve got to get the air conditioning fixed.” Not a draft, my friend, just little old me.
“Anything shake loose?” Maggie asked.
Gonzales shook his head. “It’s the usual disaster.” He seemed to remember that a couple of department lawyers were standing behind him and amended his remarks. “I don’t think there is anything to shake out of him.”
We all peered through the one-way glass. Robert Michael Martin sat, perplexed, in a straight-back chair across from Calvano—who was hammering on the table between them with his fist. It seemed a little early in the performance to be pounding on tabletops, but that was Adrian Calvano for you: no finesse.
“So, you are admitting that you actually go by the park every single morning to watch the children?” Calvano shouted at him.
Martin looked like he was going to cry. I felt his fear, but something else, too. I concentrated on it until I had it: the more Calvano screamed, the more Martin seemed comfortable with it. Not only was he accustomed to being yelled at and ridiculed, he expected it. I felt even sadder for him. His mother must have been a real joy.
“I told you,” Martin said, his voice cracking. “I volunteer for
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