April had to get out of there. "Why are you so concerned?"
"I told you, the girl was lying about her identity, as well as a lot of other things. She's highly motivated and highly organized. It's not beyond the realm of possibility that she cut herself just to get into the program. Who knows what she wanted to achieve and how Maslow fits into the picture. Certainly she gained Maslow's sympathy around the issue of her self-destructiveness, as well as her lack of a safe and protective father. She claimed she was raped from the age of five or six by her own father. It's clear Maslow was attracted to her, cared for her a great deal, and was very troubled by her. He would have been better defended against someone whose angry feelings and aggressive acts were outwardly directed," Jason mused. "And of course he was worried about suicide."
"Patients lie," April murmured. She was scared silly that she'd missed something.
"Patients lie all the time, but psychiatrists are not supposed to get duped."
April pointed to her watch. "Look, Jason, I have to go"
"Well, find her, will you? And thank you, really. Do I count on you too much?" For a second he looked concerned about it, but only for a second.
April smiled. "No. Of course not. And I love the baby. Emma looks terrific. What a great mother she is. I'm happy for both of you."
Jason got up and gave her a hug. "Anytime you want some help getting there yourself give me a call."
"Moi, consult a headshrinker?" April laughed nervously. "I wouldn't have a thing to say."
"Everybody has a story, April. And again, I can't tell you how much I appreciate this."
Downstairs, Woody was standing by the car muttering to himself for being kept waiting so long. He was really upset when she told him they'd let a suspect go.
Twenty-five
At Midtown North, John (Pee Wee) James was not in the interview room where April had left him, but she wasn't surprised not to find him there. Detectives used the rooms twenty-four hours a day. She started searching for him. She now believed he was the only one who knew what happened to Maslow Atkins. But Pee Wee wasn't in the holding cell in the squad room or any of the cells downstairs, either. Deeply distressed, she ran around the precinct looking for him. It wasn't until Woody asked at the front desk that she found out John James had been released soon after noon, eight hours ago.
April panicked. Who had questioned him? Who had sent him on his way? Where was the paperwork? Her brain whirled. He was their only lead, and by now he'd be drunk and out of it again. She headed to the stairs that led up to the detective unit.
"You can't trust anybody. We'll have to go out and find him," she complained to Woody.
"He wasn't in the park all afternoon. Maybe he's taken off." Woody made a point of tapping his watch. "I want to get these photos developed."
"Forget the photos. Just because we didn't see him doesn't mean he wasn't hiding out somewhere. He hates to leave the park. Shit!" She charged up the stairs with her head down.
"Hey, querida." Mike was standing at the top of the stairs looking relieved.
"Mike!"The sight of him made her heart soar. In one second she went from cold rage to meltdown. He had that sweet look on his handsome face that she found irresistible. He was wearing one of the blue shirts she'd given him and a very pretty tomato red tie.
"How long have you been here?" she asked, putting on a stern expression to cover her soft feelings.
"Five or ten years. Where have you been?"
"Working. Pee Wee's been released, and I wanted to talk to him when he was sober. Now I have to go out and find him. I'm sorry."
Mike shook his head. "Let's go eat."
"Sounds great," Woody said. "I have a date, can I bring her?"
"You have a date?" Mike was incredulous.
"Yeah, I have a date." Woody tugged at his tie.
"I'm sorry, Mike, I can't. I have to work." April didn't want to admit yet that she'd lost two suspects in one day.
"The case can wait. We're having dinner."
April's scalp prickled with alarm. That wasn't like him. "What do you mean?" she asked slowly. The case couldn't wait. She was aware that they'd become a tableau on the stairs. Mike blocked her way to her office in the squad room. She had to explain. It couldn't wait a minute.
"Have a good evening." Taking charge, Mike dismissed Woody.
"Thanks, boss…" Woody made a quick about-face on the stairs and took off before April could revoke the order.
She was stunned. "What do you think you're doing?" Mike didn't have the right to dismiss one of her detectives, causing her to lose face in front of one of her people. Her face burned with the mortification of disrespect from her own boyfriend.
"Let it go. You must be hungry." He took a step down, but she didn't move.
It felt as if solid ground were turning to sand under her feet. Her cheeks were on fire. "I can't let this go, Mike. I have a missing person and now the only witness we have is missing, too."
"Well, it's not your show." He moved down two more steps and put his arms around her.
What?" She'd never expected this kind of response from him. She was stung by his show of power and intended to move out of the way, but she was puzzled. She loved the sweet and spicy way he smelled, the way he looked in his new colors. She loved the warmth of his little secret smile that meant he loved her, and she was rooted to the spot. The man she knew could never hurt her.
"It's okay. We'll sort it out." He hugged her in her precinct where love was off limits, and she was too distracted to move. Any other man, any other time in her working life, and she would have sent him flying down the stairs. Now, in the middle of all her worries and his causing her to lose face with Woody, her only ally in the squad, she let the electricity of love flow through her. Less than an hour ago she'd been thinking of having his baby. Now she let him divert her from her job. All her values were breaking down at once.
"Yo quiero, te amo," he said softly.
He liked her, he loved her, that was nice. Then her bewilderment ceased. "What do you mean it's not my show?"
"Don't take it personally." He'd suddenly become elaborately casual. He took her arm and tried to move her gracefully down the stairs. "I love you. How about dinner?"
"I don't want dinner. I caught this case. I want to keep it," she insisted.
He shrugged as if the thing were out of his hands. "Major Case has it now. The PC calls it. I don't call it. Let it go." The winning smile cajoled her. Let it go, he was saying. Be a good sport. She was being manipulated by her boyfriend and didn't want to be a good sport. She wanted to have a temper tantrum.
He took her arm and turned her around. This was trouble. She knew if she got into a shoving match with a lieutenant on the stairs, she might be able to inflict some damage; but a crowd of uniforms would gather, everyone would be amused. And he would win in the end.
"What do you feel like eating? I'll buy you the dinner of your dreams." Mike gave her another ingratiating smile. They got to the bottom step. He had her moving toward the door.
Conflicting emotions kept her quiet. Wasn't she supposed to have some choice in this? They were leaving the precinct. He was supposed to love her. If he loved her, why was he doing this? Mike's ancient red Camaro was parked across the street.
"Okay, querida, fill me in," he said as they got into the car.
More outrage filled her. He started grilling her before she'd even attached her seat belt. Her cheeks burned some more at the disrespect for her car, too. She didn't want to leave her car there on Fifty-fourth Street. She wanted to go home on her own, later. Now, she wanted to go back upstairs to her office and check with the parents of those kids, check with the parents of Maslow Atkins, check this patient list, try to locate Allegra.