Burning Time

57

Sanchez rewound the tape and turned to April. There was a long silence. Already there were eleven people on the case, combing the neighborhood with the photo of Emma Chapman and hastily made sketches of Troland Grebs. The blowup of his photo in the yearbook would take a little longer.

“You know what I don’t understand.” He swiveled around in his chair, facing her and the small tape machine on her desk that was closer to him than her. He was wearing a blue shirt with a darker blue tie, gray trousers of some undefinable fabric, and the sad expression that always made April feel she’d done something really wrong.

She lifted her shoulders a tiny bit to indicate she had no idea.

“I don’t get you,” he said. “One day we’re working a case together, hanging out on a limb a little bit, and I think maybe we’re onto something.”

She frowned. What was he talking about? They weren’t onto anything. As of last night, they didn’t know a thing except that the woman was not where her husband wanted her to be.

“I mean, trust. Working together like a team.” Sanchez looked at her intently, his mustache quivering just enough to show he was agitated.

Her brow furrowed even deeper. Trust was not a word she was comfortable with. She had a lot of trouble in those training sessions where you had to fall down and let somebody catch you. Not so good to let somebody stand behind you, even a cop.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he demanded.

“What?” Her phone rang. She let it ring.

“We go out on something,” he said. “We have something to eat. We’re talking about it, working it over in our minds. Like the two of us, you know? And the next day I come in, you’re already out of here. Not a note, nothing. What am I supposed to feel, huh?”

He looked offended. Angry, too.

She tried to look angry right back and almost immediately had to look down. Angry right back was not something she was good at. “Feel?” She wanted to scold him. You don’t have feelings when you’re a cop. She shook her head. “You have two things mixed up.” She reached for her phone. “Detective Woo,” she said.

“It’s Jason Frank.”

April looked at her watch. It had been only twenty-five minutes since his last call. “Yes, Dr. Frank.”

“Were you able to get those pictures duplicated?” he asked.

“We’re working on it,” she replied.

There was a pause.

“Is there anything new?” he asked.

Sanchez moved restlessly in his chair while she focused on her conversation.

“I know how you’re feeling, Dr. Frank,” she said soothingly. “It’s terrible to have to sit around waiting for news, but I promise I’ll call you as soon as I have anything to report.”

“Listen, I’ve been thinking. Is this something the FBI should be getting involved with?”

“Do you think you’d have better luck with the FBI than the New York City Police Department?” she asked without a trace of a smile.

“I wasn’t questioning your expertise. I was just thinking that kidnapping is a federal offense.”

“Yes, it is. But the FBI doesn’t step in on every missing person case, even if there is a suspected abduction. Have you received a call asking for ransom?” April asked, suddenly.

“No.”

“Then try to give us a little time, Doctor. We have a lot of people working on it.” She looked up at Sanchez. At that second he wasn’t looking at her.

“I can’t. I told you it’s too serious. We don’t have much time,” Jason Frank was saying.

“Believe me, Doctor Frank. We know how serious it is. We’ve brought people in.” A lot of them. Right then the squad room was filled with blue uniforms and detectives, rushing around, coming in and out of the field. Coffee cups everywhere. It was hard to breathe, much less hear anything on the phone. The place had become a war room.

“We have to find her soon,” Dr. Frank pressed. “I’d like to come and help.”

That was the last thing she needed. “You are helping. You’re helping a lot,” April said, trying not to get annoyed. He couldn’t just come in and help. It didn’t work that way. And the more he distracted her, the less time she had to concentrate on it.

“I’ll meet with you very soon,” she promised. “But right now you have to let me do my job.”

“One hour?” he said.

“I can’t give you a time. I’ll call you when I have something. That’s all I can promise.”

He had no answer for that. April finally had the space to hang up.

Now Sanchez was looking at her.

“What are you looking at?” she demanded, exasperated.

“We were having a conversation.”

“Mike,” she said, lowering her voice. Right above her head two blue uniforms were distributing the sketches of Troland Grebs to new arrivals. “You got two things all mixed up.”

Sanchez poked the smaller uniform, an earnest-looking female, bulging out of her pants. “Hey, why don’t you do that over there.” He pointed across the room toward the door.

“Oh,” she said. “Sorry, sir.” And moved away.

He turned back to April without skipping a beat. “No, lady, I don’t have two things mixed up. You trust somebody one way, you got to trust them another way. It’s not about anything else. You’re not together with me one minute and then going it alone the next.”

April was silent for a second, thinking it over. “You weren’t here,” she said finally.

“What are you talking about?”

“I went out alone because you weren’t here.”

“Well, I would have been here if you’d let me pick you up.” He poked a finger at the air. Ha, got her.

She narrowed her eyes, furious at him. “Look, don’t confuse things. You listened to the tape. That’s all there is to think about. Finding her. If we find her, then we can talk about trust.”

He shrugged. Okay. “So what angle are you working? You know what that noise is in the background?”

“Of course I do. Do you think I’m stupid?”

“What is it?”

Oh, they were playing guessing games again. “An airplane,” she said irritably.

“So is it landing or taking off?” he demanded.

“How do I know?” April said.

“You should know,” he said grimly. “Well, where’s your map?”

April looked startled. Sergeant Joyce didn’t mention any map.

He looked at her with disappointment. “We need to pinpoint all the bridges and airports.”

“I was just on my way to do that,” she said quickly, frowning because she thought that was just a little bit premature. The woman could just as easily be in New Jersey or Connecticut. They had airports there. But no bridges near enough to be able to see the bridge and hear the planes directly overhead. Scratch New Jersey and Connecticut.

“Did you get an audio person to tell by the sound of the engines if the planes are taking off or landing?”

April nodded vigorously. Oh, yeah, she’d had many hours of free time to think of all these things. Why did she listen to him? He just made her feel bad.

“Does that make a difference, if she’s looking out at a bridge?” she asked, without sounding as annoyed as she felt.

She wanted to do things her own way, but he was looking at her accusingly again. She hated having him mad at her.

“Okay,” she said, relenting. “I’m sorry I didn’t leave a note. I didn’t think of it.” There, she said it.

“But you don’t leave me notes.” She modified the apology. Who leaves notes? Nobody. Anyway, if she started leaving him notes, everybody would see them and think they were involved.

“I would have today,” he said.

April had to look down again, away from his eyes. He meant today after last night. She hated herself for looking down to hide her true thoughts. It was so Chinese, and she couldn’t seem to help it. Must be genetic.

“Did you get a list of all her friends?” he went on, ever so helpful now that she was confused and sorry.

“Yeah, why?”

“Maybe when he wasn’t home, she called somebody else.”

She also hated it when he thought of things before she did. And he thought of a lot of things before she did. Yeah, the lady could have called somebody else. She could even have called the police. Somebody would have responded to the call.

“You want a cup of coffee?” she asked. “I was just going to get one.” Stupid woman. That was the biggest concession she could make. He said he did, and even went with her to get it.