Читать книгу Last Seen - Rick Mofina - Страница 23
ОглавлениеStill feeling Faith’s kiss, Cal stepped into Interview Room 402.
He took a quick look at the small room, barren of furniture but for the hard-back chairs on either side of a table with a wood veneer finish.
As a reporter, Cal had been inside enough police stations, precincts and districts to know how investigators truly regarded these rooms. All of them were like this one, bright and sparse with white cinder-block walls that seemed to be closing in on you.
Interview room? No, these were battlefields where truth waged war against deception.
“Have a seat, Cal.”
The chairs scraped on the vinyl floor and Price took her place across from him, set her mug on the table, then her folder, which she opened. She tapped her pen against the pad while scanning her notes.
She was pumped for this.
Cal swallowed. Most of the saliva in his throat had dried.
Hang on to yourself and keep it together.
Price pulled a small recorder from her jacket, switched it on and set it down between them. “This little one’s for me. I want to take down everything accurately.” She gave him a smile, nodding to the camera pointing at him from the ceiling in the corner of the room. “We record all interviews, a precaution for you and for us. Do you have a problem with that?”
“None.”
“Okay, good,” she said. “We’ve gone over your statements but I want to begin with you telling me everything that occurred yesterday when Gage disappeared, from the time you got up, to the time you went to sleep—or tried to. Include everything you did, everyone you interacted with, whether by phone, email, in person, tell me everything.”
Cal took a slow, deep breath, then for the next twenty minutes he recounted the day—how it was a day off for both him and Faith, how they’d taken Gage to the fair, to the Chambers of Dread, and the nightmare that had happened after that.
“So, Gage wanted to go into the Chambers because his friends Marshall and Colton had dared him?” Price made notes. “Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me more about Gage. Has he ever wandered off?”
“No.”
“Does he have any learning disabilities?”
“No, he’s a bright child, takes after his mother.”
“Any attention disorders?”
“No.”
“Would you say he’s shy, quiet, bold, talkative, a leader or a follower?”
“He’s quiet, a follower. He’s social—he’s got his friends.”
“Is he mostly happy? Unhappy?”
“Happy. He’s happy.”
“Does he take risks?”
“No, he’s cautious.”
“Would you say he’s a fearful, anxious child, pessimistic?”
“No, he’s positive, easygoing.”
“Any behavioral problems at all?”
“No. And he does well in school.”
“Has he tried drugs that you know of?”
“He’s nine.”
“We both know age doesn’t seem to matter these days.”
“No, he hasn’t touched drugs.”
“How does he interact with strangers?”
“You mean when he meets new people, or creeps?”
“Any way you want to answer.”
“He knows to stay away from strangers, but he’s respectful when he meets new people with us, that sort of thing.”
“Does he have access to the internet?”
“Yes, at school and at home.”
“Has he ever met or communicated with a stranger online?”
“No, there are guards on what he can access at school and at home. These things are monitored.”
“What does he do online?”
“He plays games and he chats on a site called ELZ, the earLoadzone. It’s for younger kids and he only talks to people he knows, like his buddies Marshall, Colton, Ethan and their friends.”
“What sort of things do they talk about?”
“Movies, video games. They talked about the Chambers of Dread—that’s mostly where they dared each other to go on it.”
“You sure he only talks to his friends? People can lurk on these sites.”
“We monitor it closely. We can see who he talks to. So can the parents of the other kids.”
“All right, but we’re going to want to look into his history and who chatted with him. Does he have a cell phone?”
“No.”
“Have you noticed any strange activity in your lives within the last few months? Say, strangers asking for directions, wrong numbers, strange vehicles, anything that struck you as odd or out of the ordinary?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Has Gage ever expressed or displayed any fear, unease or discomfort about anyone in particular?”
“No.”
“Who would you say he is closest to?”
“Besides us?”
“Any way you want to answer.”
“Well, after us, I’d say his pals Marshall, Colton and Ethan.”
“Has Gage ever stayed away from home?”
“Sure, camp and sleepovers with his friends.”
“Has he ever snuck out without permission?”
“No.”
“Run away from home?”
“No.”
Price paged back through her notes.
“Okay, let’s go back. Take me through the attraction again. Everything you can remember—who was ahead of you, who was behind you. No detail is too small. And with respect to you, Faith and Gage, who was with who right up until you realized Gage was missing.”
Cal related everything he could recall, noting how the fog, the darkness, the loud noises and flashing lights often made things chaotic, confusing and hard to distinguish details.
“But at no point did Gage allow either you or your wife to hold his hand?”
“That’s correct.”
“What was his demeanor?”
“He seemed nervous but in a fun way, like he was scared but having fun. Excited.”
“Did you notice anyone talking to him, hanging around him?”
“No, well, outside he had a short conversation with the ticket taker. That heavy guy you got out there.”
“What was the nature of that conversation?”
“The guy was trying to jazz him up about the ride. It was short, but he seemed to enjoy an extralong look at Faith.”
“What about inside? Did you see that guy or notice anyone hanging around Gage?”
“No to both, but again it was hard to make out details inside.”
Price made notes and tapped her pen.
“Let’s go back a bit to the spinner before you exited,” she said. “You say you thought Faith had Gage, that you thought you saw her with him at the exit?”
“Yes.”
Price blinked a few times and made a note, then Cal asked a question.
“I thought you guys were trying to retrieve footage from the video recordings inside the ride.”
Price shook her head. “We’ve got nothing helpful so far. The techs are still working on that.”
“Did you talk to other people who were in the Chambers and those chutes at the same time we were there?”
“We’ve been trying to locate them—it’s difficult. But with the media coverage a few are beginning to step forward. We’re talking to them.”
“What about that canine unit?”
“Nothing so far.”
“What about tips?”
“Nothing concrete has come in but we’re following up all possible leads.”
“The neighborhoods surrounding the fairgrounds?”
“We’re still working them but nothing yet.”
“Nothing?” Cal’s jaw muscle twitched and he indicated the squad room. “What about the people working the attraction? The carnies...what did they tell you?”
“Like I said, we’re still talking to everybody and we’re still searching and canvassing. Look, being a Chicago crime reporter, Cal, I’m sure you have an understanding of the anatomy of these types of investigations.”
Cal understood very well.
Price let a moment pass, then said, “There are only a few explanations for what happened. Gage wandered off, was perhaps disoriented, or he was lured or enticed, or he was abducted.”
Abducted.
Here it comes.
Up to now Cal had been hanging on by his fingertips, struggling not to break, fighting to work around the keening in his head. He shut his eyes tight because what he’d feared, what he’d been denying, what he knew in his gut, had swallowed him. Gage was likely abducted and Cal knew from his own reporting experience that if an abductor intended to kill their victim, stats showed they’d do it in the first four hours. And if a kidnapper was seeking ransom, they make contact within twenty-four to forty-eight hours. The likelihood that Gage was dead, or that they’d never see him again, increased with each passing second.
“Cal?”
He opened his eyes, not having realized he’d closed them.
“Until we have a clear picture of what happened,” Price said, “no one is above suspicion. You understand that, don’t you, Cal?”
He swallowed and nodded.
“And you know we have to clear you and your wife so we can cross you off our list?”
Cal nodded.
“Now.” Price sipped some coffee. “Are you okay to keep going?”
Cal thought of Faith across the hall, wondering how she was enduring.
“Cal?”
“Yes.”
Price looked at her notes. “Are you involved in, or do you have knowledge of who may be responsible for, your son’s disappearance?”
Cal shook his head. “No, I’m not involved and I don’t know who took him.”
“Do you or your wife use illegal drugs?”
“No.”
“Has Gage ever been exposed to any form of physical, sexual or emotional abuse in your home?”
Cal shook his head.
“Do you have a gambling addiction?”
“We went to Las Vegas for fun and gambled a little, that’s it.”
“Do you have any debts?”
“Just the mortgage, car payments, credit cards, like most people.”
“Who handles the finances in your household?”
“Faith. We each have separate accounts, but we have joint accounts, too, and Faith uses those to handle household finances.”
“And these separate accounts...they’re private from each other?”
“That’s right. We agreed to do things that way when we got married.”
“All right.” Price made notes, then moved on. “You’re a crime reporter with the Chicago Star-News.”
Cal nodded.
“You don’t really cover much crime here in River Ridge, or the other ‘safe’ suburbs. You cover the big stuff downtown and across the country?”
“Yes, I work near the Tribune building, and if the story’s big enough, the paper sends me wherever we need to go. Although we don’t travel as much these days—they’ve tightened budgets.”
“In your line of work, you report on a lot of dangerous people, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Your stories helped put a lot of people in prison?”
“I just report the facts.”
“This came up at the news conference, so I want to ask—can you think of anyone in your past who may have threatened you? Anyone who might want to settle a score with you? Or anything you may have done to anger someone to the point that they’d want revenge against you?”
Cal exhaled slowly as his mind raced back over his years and the stories blurred.
“People get pissed off and have said things to me.”
“What sort of things, what people?”
“Usually relatives and friends of suspects, or criminals.”
“And what did they say?”
“‘I’m going to kick your ass, you write bullshit.’ ‘Why didn’t you write the truth about such and such?’ But that’s pretty common. I mean, not everyone’s happy with what you report. But I never took any of it seriously.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s just people blowing steam—people say things. No one’s ever acted on anything.”
“So far.”
“No one so far.”
Price nodded and made notes. “You ever cross the line on your job, Cal?”
“What do you mean?”
“Break the rules, get your story wrong, really piss off a subject or burn a source, that sort of thing?”
“What’re you suggesting?”
“Not suggesting anything. Just want to know if you think there’s anyone out to get you.”
Cal steepled his fingers and touched them to his chin. “We covered this, Detective. Yes, I’ve pissed people off with my work.”
“Who, how?”
“I already told you, some people don’t like it when you write the truth about their situation. But that’s part of my job. If I thought for one second that Gage’s disappearance had any connection to my work, to anything I’d done, I’d be screaming that fact to you.”
Price took a moment to process his response.
“Okay, let’s move on. Your newspaper, the Chicago Star-News, has been bleeding staff in recent years and there’s talk online and in the business pages that more layoffs are coming—that’s got to put a lot of stress on you.”
“It makes you think about what you’re going to do if you lose your job. I’ve been with the Star-News a long time and reporting jobs are pretty hard to come by these days.”
“So there’s some stress in your home?”
“No more than anyone else in this economy.”
“What about you and Faith?”
“What about us?”
“Tell me about your relationship. How did you meet?”
Cal remembered the first time he saw Faith. She was on her phone, upset and in tears. He was immediately infatuated. After approaching her, he’d learned that her boyfriend had broken up with her and he thought, Who’d be stupid enough to break this girl’s heart? So he asked her out and they fell in love.
“We met in college.”
Price smiled. “And Gage is your only child?”
“Well, after Gage, Faith miscarried once and we never had another.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. When was that?”
“Two years after Gage was born.” Cal blinked several times.
Price made a note. “And Faith is with a public relations firm downtown?”
“Yes.”
“How would you describe Faith, Cal—is she calm or a nervous person?”
“She can be both.”
“How would you describe her intelligence?”
“Her intelligence?”
“Yes, is she a genius, a linear thinker, slow to grasp things?”
“No, she’s very intelligent, way smarter than me, graduated near the top of her class. She was in Mensa for a while.”
“Mensa? Really?” Price made notes. “Is she generally liked by others?”
“Yes.”
“Is she religious, devout?”
“She’s Catholic, goes to Mass. Well, not as much as she used to, but she’s still involved in the school and church.”
“What about you?”
“I was raised Catholic, was an altar boy, but I stopped going to church a long time ago.”
“Why? Were you abused or something?”
“Too much hypocrisy for me.”
“So you lost your faith.”
“No, guess you could say that I put it on the shelf.”
Price made notes. “Back to Faith—is she a good mother, attentive, or career-focused?”
“She’s a good mother. Gage is her world.”
“Would you say she’s confident or self-conscious?”
“Both, depends on the situation. She can be sensitive and sensitive to other people’s feelings.”
“Is she restrained and controlled or does she give in to urges and temptations?”
Cal hesitated at the word temptations and met Price’s eyes, wondering where this line of questioning was headed.
“She’s a disciplined, hardworking, devoted mother who has a weakness for banana milk shakes and tacos.”
“What about her spending habits?”
“She likes to shop—she’s fashionable. She buys things for Gage. But she’s not out of control or anything. In fact, she earns more than I do.”
“Does that bother you?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Tell me about her hobbies, likes, dislikes?”
“She picks the mushrooms and onions off her pizza or salad. She loves to read, mostly general fiction. She belongs to a book club. She likes TV crime shows.”
“Really? What kind?”
“The true-crime stuff—Dateline, The First 48, unsolved murder mystery stuff, forensic stuff.”
“And you?”
“No, I don’t watch those shows.”
“Funny, I would think it would be the other way around.” Price made notes. “Have you ever been unfaithful to her, Cal?”
“What?” Cal shot her a look for offending him. “No.”
“Has she ever been unfaithful to you?”
Price sipped from her mug, as if she’d just asked him the time of day, watching him from over the rim. Cal swallowed and looked into her eyes. They were indifferent to any pain she may have caused as she waited for an answer. Cal suddenly imagined Faith across the hall and Lang asking her a similar question.
“No. She’s a good wife and our marriage is solid.”
Price nodded and made notes.
“Sure, we argue from time to time. I’ve ticked her off and she’s ticked me off. Mostly it’s me ticking her off, but that’s what a marriage is.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’m not married.”
A soft knock sounded at the door.
A man in a suit, who looked senior to Price, stuck his head in.
“Excuse me, Rachel? Something’s come up. We need you now.”
