3rd Degree

Chapter 19

TWO WOMEN WERE SITTING in Interrogation Room 1 when I got back. They owned a small placement service for nannies and au pairs, Cappy informed me. “A Nanny Is Love!”

“We called in when we heard about what happened,” Linda Cliborne, in a pink cashmere sweater, explained to me. “We placed Wendy Raymore in that job.”

“She seemed perfect for it,” her partner, Judith Hertan, jumped in. Judith took out a yellow file and pushed it across the table. Inside was a filled-out A Nanny Is Love! application form, a couple of letters of recommendation, a Cal-Berkeley student ID with a photo on it.

“The Lightowers adored her,” Linda said.

I stared at the small laminated photo of Wendy Raymore's face. She was blond with high cheekbones, a wide, blossoming smile. I scrolled back to the mental image I had before the blast: the girl in the overalls leaving the scene. This could be her.

“We carefully screen all of our girls. Wendy seemed like a gem. She was cheerful and attractive, a totally likable kid.”

“And the Lightowers said their little baby had taken to her like honey,” her partner added. “We always check.”

“These recommendations... you checked them, too?”

Judith Hertan hesitated. “We may not have followed up on all of them. I did check with the school, made sure she was in good standing. We had her college ID, of course.”

I fixed on the address: 17 Pelican Drive. Across the bay in Berkeley.

“I think she said she lived off-campus,” Linda Cliborne said. “We mailed her confirmation to a post office box.”

I took Cappy and Jacobi outside the room. “I'll alert the Berkeley PD. And Tracchio.”

“How do you want to handle it?” Cappy looked at me. What he meant was, What kind of force should we use to pick her up?

I stared at the photo.

“Use everything,” I said.