The Feeb almost smiled. “Does this put us in the role of Judas Iscariot?”
I returned the expression. “I’ll be happy to kiss the man on the cheek. Next time I see him.”
During the drive to Carson City, Darcy read police reports to me. It was funny listening to him, and not just because of that uninflected voice. His vocabulary was incredible; we never hit a word he didn’t know. But his pronunciation was often far from the mark. I got the impression he had done a good deal more reading than he’d done talking. I suppose he wasn’t the first person to find books more comfortable than other people. But I still liked being with him, and I know he liked being with me. And that felt good.
“Did you know there are over nine hundred missing-persons reports filed in Clark County each year?” he asked as he shuffled between files.
“Your point being?”
He was staring at a group of photographs. The cheerleaders. “They seem like nice girls, don’t you think? I hope the Bad Man doesn’t do anything mean to them.”
Poor sweet Darcy. “I could be wrong. But how else do you explain their disappearance?”
“Spontaneous combustion?”
“Seems unlikely.”
“White slavery ring? Did you know that white slavery rings are still active in Kuwait and many Middle Eastern nations? But I don’t know about Las Vegas.”
“Let’s hope that isn’t it.” What kind of books did O’Bannon have in that library? “I can’t be certain, Darcy. But my instincts tell me Edgar grabbed these girls. And I’ve learned to trust my instincts.”
“Me too,” Darcy said, surprising the hell out of me. “You’re usually right.”
“Well, I don’t know if I’d go that far.”
“Ninety-three point six six percent of the time so far.”
“Thanks, Spock.” I wasn’t going to ask how he’d calculated that. Or what he considered to be my mistakes.
His head tilted to one side. “You smell good today.”
“I do? Oh-you mean no coffee breath.”
“Uh-uh. Something else.”
And I guess I knew what that was, too. I’d made it through the night again without taking a drink. And I could do it again. I knew I could. I had the strength now. And the really strange thing was that I knew I was getting that strength-at least in part-from Darcy.
“I didn’t like that funny smell. I like Susan smell better.”
Good thing I knew he was autistic. Otherwise I might have him arrested.
We didn’t know that Tiffany was dead. But I still found my voice choking, my eyes tingling, throughout the interview. Was this the first time I’d done something like this since David? Or perhaps, was this the first time I’d done something like this sober since David?
“It seemed such an innocent, harmless activity,” Mrs. Glancy said. “Cheerleading camp. What could happen?”
It’s not your fault, I wanted to tell the woman. But it wasn’t my place. “The team sponsor says she and the others disappeared after dinner. Around nine.”
“And that is so unlike Tiffany.” She dabbed her eyes. She was medium-sized and of medium weight, with a pleasant face that had probably aged twenty years in the last twenty hours. She did all the talking. Her husband was a physician, and like most doctors I had encountered, words were not his best thing. He sat beside her, not speaking, barely moving. Stunned.
Tiffany was their only child.
“She’s never run off before?”
“Of course not,” the mother said. “Tiffany is a good girl. Responsible. She’s on the honor roll, you know.”
“I, um, didn’t.”
“She’s not just some dumb blond cheerleader,” her father said, speaking for the first time. Apparently this was a point he felt compelled to make. “She had a real head on her shoulders.”
“And so kind,” the woman continued. “So considerate of others.” Her face flattened for a moment. “I’ll bet it was that JJ’s idea. I never cared much for her.”
“That was one of her friends, right?” I checked my files. “One of the other cheerleaders who disappeared.”
“I often told Tiffany she should be more careful. People judge you by your friends. But you know girls that age. They don’t listen. Do you have a girl that age?”
“Niece,” I offered.
“Oh, well then, you know. They don’t listen. Not a bit. Even the smart ones.”
Darcy sat in an overstuffed chair, picking at the armrest. I knew he was uncomfortable. All this misery-he absorbed it like a sponge. He might not understand emotion, but in a way, that could increase the discomfort of being around it. I just hoped he wouldn’t have another breakdown. I couldn’t deal with that now.
“Does she have any friends in Las Vegas?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Does she have an interest in gambling?”
“Of course not.”
“Rock and roll? There are several rock stars playing the Strip this week.”
“She’s more interested in Broadway. Show tunes, you know.”
“Does she like to… dress up?” Had to tread carefully here. But I hadn’t forgotten that Helen had a secret life her mother knew nothing about. It was possible this one did, too. Possible they both made the same mistake that put them in Edgar’s clutches.
“Dress up? How?”
“Oh… provocatively. Sexy.”
“My Tiffany would never do that.”
I had to push. “Those cheerleading skirts are usually pretty short.”
“That’s entirely different. That’s a sign of school spirit.”
Mmmm. “You think she’d have any interest in sex clubs?”
Mrs. Glancy clutched her bosom. “I-I-never-!” She looked at her husband, who was no use at all. “Are you planning to help our Tiffany or destroy her reputation?”
“I’m planning to find her, ma’am. And that means I need to know as much about her as possible.”
Dad cleared his throat. “I think maybe I should call Dick Conners.”
The family lawyer, no doubt. That would gum up the works. And frankly, I didn’t have the time. Not with the clock on these girls already ticking. “Does she have any hobbies? Interests?”