There was a pause in which nobody moved. The couple locked eyes.
"No, of course not." Mr. Owen was the first to back away from the door. His wife was frozen. He took her arm and moved her back. "Come in. What's the problem?"
"Thank you." April entered and looked around the large foyer. It was every bit as grand as Mike had described it, but she was no longer intimidated by the trappings of wealth. She felt fortified by the jacket that broadcast her business. On Park Avenue no one was going to shoot her for wearing it. She was in a hurry to talk to the boy. Woody followed her inside. Two uniforms waited out in the elevator foyer. The Owens were in shock.
"We need to talk to your son, David," April told them.
"He isn't here. You'll have to come back." Mrs. Owen kept a wary eye on Woody, standing at ease, one hand holding the fingers of the other in front of his partially zipped jacket, as if she thought he might open fire at any moment with the pistol she knew was concealed in there.
"Where is he?" April was surprised. John had told her the boy was grounded.
Mrs. Owen raked a hand through her blond hair, talking quickly. "He's on his way home from a doctor's appointment. He called to say he's stuck in traffic."
"When was that?" April asked, pretty sure he was in the apartment.
"An hour ago. What is this all about?" Mrs. Owen was trying to stay cool. The hand raised to her throat was trembling.
They stood in the grand foyer, the two cops and the parents of the missing suspect. For April, having to telling someone a precious loved one was dead or injured was the worst thing in the world. Telling a parent that a loved child had hurt or killed someone else was almost as bad. These parents had no idea what was coming. Mr. Owen put his hand on his wife's shoulder. April could see him signal her to shut up.
"He took your car out last night," she said, starting with an easy one.
"Is there a problem with that? Borrowing the family car is not against the law. All kids do it." He looked at his wife. The kid took the car out. He hadn't known that.
April gave him a neutral face. "He's doesn't have a driver's license."
"So what?" The lawyer began to bluster like the wind kicking up in a storm.
Then the wife joined in. "A detective was here this afternoon, and we've had three other calls from the police this evening. Why are you harassing our son? He hasn't done anything."
April nodded at Woody. He escalated quickly.
"We're investigating a homicide, ma'am," he said.
"A homicide?" Mrs. Owen was astounded. "What could David know about a homicide?" She grabbed her husband's arm.
"What homicide, where-?" he responded to her alarm.
"We're not at liberty to talk about it at this time," Woody said, looking at his boss.
"Look, I can't let you talk to him until I know what this is all about. You can make an appointment and can talk to him with a lawyer present." Mr. Owen moved to open the door. The kid wasn't there. He wanted them to go. But it didn't work like that. He was just another parent who didn't know what was going on with his child and couldn't do anything to help him.
April felt a little sorry for them. "In ordinary circumstances that would be fine. But that won't be possible tonight. One man is dead, another is missing. David may be the only one who can help us find him."
"Oh God." His mother swooned.
"I'd like to see his room."
Janice Owen made a small cry, as if her whole world were coming to an end.
"I need to consult a lawyer about that," Mr. Owen said.
"For Christ's sake, you are a lawyer."
"Not a criminal lawyer, Janice."
"I'm not going to take anything at this time. But we have to secure the room," April interjected.
The two began to argue between themselves. Now was the time for blaming. Later would come the time for defending. April knew the whole story before they did. Her only interest was locating and talking to the boy. She found his room. He wasn't in it. It had a strong and not appealing boy smell that almost made her change her mind about taking something. But she did take something. She bagged the pillowcase on his unmade bed. Then she called in Officer Hays, who'd been waiting outside the apartment. He taped up the door of David's room with police tape and stayed behind to make sure no one went in and touched anything before they got a search warrant. April and Woody were out of there.
A few blocks uptown when Mike and several officers searched the apartment for Brandy, the completely hysterical Cheryl Fabman carried on a tirade against her missing daughter and the entire world. Neither mother could raise her child on the cell phone both had purchased to keep in constant touch.
Fifty-nine
When April and Woody entered the park at Seventy-seventh Street, John Zumech's red Cherokee and Mike's red Camaro were already parked side by side on the grass. The two men were talking quietly, waiting for them. Peachy sat in the passenger seat of the Jeep with her muzzle resting on the partly opened window. There was no repeat of the morning's frenzy in the dog now. But four people were off their radar screens, and the officers were pumping adrenaline.
Woody stopped the car next to the other two and killed the engine. They had BOLOS (be on the lookout) for Brandy, David, Dylan, and Maslow. Nothing yet.
April took a deep breath, made a quick prayer, and got out. This was where Maslow had disappeared and she and Woody had started on this case forty-eight hours ago. The temperature had dropped twenty degrees to the low sixties, and the humidity was high. Conditions were almost the same as then. She felt a little chilled in the evening air and was glad she'd changed into the long pants and sneakers in her locker.
Tonight a deepening cloud cover obscured the sky and threatened more rain. The park lights were on, glowing eerily in another steamy Indian summer evening.
John raised his hand, and the two men approached. "Have you got your maps, April?" Now he was wearing the Search and Rescue orange jumpsuit with bulging pockets. A water bottle hung on his belt. He had raccoon eyes and his jaw was clenched, emphasizing the scar beside his mouth. He held the flat leash in his hand.
"How are you doing, John?" April greeted him.
"Pissed. I've been thinking about what happened last night. Peachy and I must have been out running when David came. She would never have let anyone near the house. Not even someone she knows." He shook his head angrily. "This is hard to believe. I don't know what happened to them. They were solid kids."
"They're dopers, and they're out here somewhere," April said grimly..
"The bastards made a fool of me for trusting them. They violated everything sacred about this profession- and when it gets out I had those jars in my garage-shit, the press is going to go nuts."
Not to mention the people a little closer to him, like his employer, the PD, and maybe the health department. April glanced at Mike. He tapped his watch.
"Are we waiting for anyone?" she asked.
"Everyone at CP knows we're here. About a dozen officers are en route," Mike said.
"Woody checked out the Owens' garage. The Mercedes is there now, but David took it last night. The garage attendant doesn't punch the time cards for cars with regular spaces, but he was certain David returned the car before they closed their gate at midnight. After that, the customers have to ring for entry."
Woody with the sensitive nose put his two cents in. "The garage guy told me the car stank so bad when it came in, he had to spray it with air freshener before he would get in."
Zumech swore. "I'll kill the little snot."
In the Jeep, Peachy whined. The trainer changed his tone to warm honey. "Good girl. You good, good girl. You ready to get started, sweetheart? That's great. Just a minute and we're going to work." He signaled the dog, and Peachy became silent.