“So what we’re doing makes all the sense in the world, especially given her criminal background and the fact that there’s some time unaccounted for. But it just feels horrible. A grandparent, for God’s sake.”
“My dad is crazy about Traci,” A.L. said. “Always has been. Acts like an idiot when she’s around, always teasing her, trying to make her laugh. I keep telling him that she’s seventeen now, not a little kid anymore. But he can’t seem to help himself.”
“And Traci is such a good kid that she plays along.”
“Most of the time. It is weird, though. He never did that with me or my sister, Liz. After Traci was born, it caught me off guard. Like I was the one with the baby but he was the one who changed.”
Rena looked out her side window. “I wish my mom was going to be here. For my baby.”
“Cancer is a fucking thief,” he said.
Her mom had been dead for three years and it still hurt. “Gabe’s mom will be over the moon.” It wasn’t the same but it would be nice. “His whole family will be.”
Elaine Broadstreet’s car turned into the driveway of her small ranch.
“My grandmother helped raise me,” Rena said. “I trusted her as much as I did my mother.”
“We don’t know that Elaine has betrayed that same trust,” he said.
“Maybe she had a mental lapse, you know, the same kind of thing that happens to a young parent who gets preoccupied on their way to work and leaves their baby in the back seat of a hot car for eight hours. Nobody can ever understand how that happens but it happens every year, to multiple kids. To good, caring parents.”
“So you’re back to she got Emma inside and then spaced out and left her there unattended? That still doesn’t explain why her signature isn’t on the sign-in sheet.”
“I know. But I want to make it safe for her to tell us the truth,” Rena said.
They gave her a couple minutes to get settled and then knocked on the door. Once inside, they saw that Elaine Broadstreet’s home was nicely furnished with leather couches and solid wood end tables. The floors were hardwood and the rugs on them looked expensive.
Milo’s Motors either paid better than he might have expected or she was luckier at the gaming tables than most. They’d get to that.
“You wanted to talk to me,” Elaine said. She’d settled on one leather couch. He and Rena had taken ends on the other.
“How was today?” Rena asked, her tone caring. It reminded him of something she’d said once—that he had very little time or tolerance for small talk. Or something like that. It was true. And it was a fault. Because right now, Rena was spot-on. Elaine Broadstreet’s culpability was yet to be determined. But what they did know was that her grandchild was missing. And for that reason alone, she deserved great consideration.
“Difficult,” Elaine said. “We all jump every time Leah’s cell phone rings.” She paused. “People have been wonderful. So caring. One of Troy’s friends started a fund-raising page and donations poured in today. Just poured in.”
A fund-raising site. A.L. supposed it was to be expected. It was easy enough to do and it left people, those who started it and those who contributed, feeling good. It was a relatively easy way for a person to let the Whitmans know that they cared. “What do Troy and Leah think about that?” A.L. asked.
“I think Leah was a little embarrassed. I guess it seems a little bit like charity. But Steven told them that it only made sense, that they might have a need for it. Like to offer a reward,” Elaine explained.
Or to pay for private searchers once the initial frenzy dies down, A.L. added silently. He hoped like hell it didn’t come to that. “Who is Steven?”
“Steven Hanzel. He’s Troy’s best friend and he’s the one who started the fund-raising site. He works at the bank. I think he’s a loan officer.”
A.L. wrote the name down in his notebook. It was time to get down to business. “We have a few more questions about the day you dropped Emma off.”
Elaine nodded. “I suppose that teacher is still saying that she never saw me.”
“Let’s just say that the two of you have different recollections of the morning,” A.L. said. “Have you had any second thoughts about what you told us?”
“No.”
Rena leaned forward. “Is it possible that you walked Emma into the day care but didn’t hand her off to anybody? I mean, Emma sounds like she was pretty mature. Maybe she knew where her room was? Maybe she said I’ve got this and you kissed her goodbye and left without actually seeing her go into a room?”
Elaine said nothing.
“I totally get how that could happen,” Rena said.
“Do you have children, Detective?”
“No,” Rena said, her tone level.
“Then I’m not sure you’re qualified to get anything. But in any event, that’s not what happened.”
Elaine was no shrinking violet. She was pissed and she wanted Rena to know it. A.L. didn’t worry that Rena would lose her cool. She was too seasoned for that and had been baited by those much more skilled. “So, Elaine, we’re to understand that your previous statement stands without correction,” A.L. said, his tone friendly. “You handed her off to Kara Wiese and you signed the sheet on the clipboard by the office before you left.”
“All of that is still correct. I know that I didn’t mention signing the sheet initially but I’ve been over it a thousand times in my head. I did that. I’m sure of it.”
“Okay,” A.L. said. “Do you happen to know Tanya Knight?”
“Of course. Emma was previously in her room.” She paused. “I know the difference between Kara Wiese and Tanya Knight if that’s what you’re getting at.” She was back to being pissed.
She reached for a candle that was on an end table. Turned it. Just so. Took a nice long look out her front window.
They waited.
“I do actually have a correction to my statement,” Elaine said finally, looking at Rena. “But I’m guessing you maybe already know that.”
Eight
“We’re listening,” A.L. said.
Elaine sighed. Settled back on the couch, as if this was going to be lengthy explanation and she wanted something solid behind her. “After I left Emma at the day care, I drove to the Wildwind’s Casino.”
A.L. knew the place. It was twenty-five miles west of Baywood. His dad and his uncle Joe went there at least once a month. Said it was for the buffet, but A.L. didn’t think so.