Runyon knew it, but he had to ask. He didn’t want to bring Bobby’s name up to Bryn in front of an audience if there was a way around it. In order to get through to her, he had to know what she knew and was hiding about the murder. If she was certain Bobby was guilty, she’d never give him away.
“So what do you say, Mr. Runyon? Do it our way?”
“I doubt it’d do any good. If she was going to confide in me, she’d’ve done it at the crime scene.”
“Maybe she did,” Farley said mildly. “Maybe you’re the one she’s protecting.”
Blowing smoke, the same as Crabtree had. They weren’t all that suspicious of him—they’d have checked his record and found it clean—but they were good cops covering all the bases. He’d have handled it the same way when he carried a police badge.
He said, “You’ll find out soon enough those prints on the knife aren’t mine.”
“So then you shouldn’t mind helping us get to the bottom of this. Save Mrs. Darby a lot of trouble if you can convince her to open up. Are you willing to give it a try?”
“I’ll have to talk to her attorney before I give you an answer.”
“You want to call him now?”
“Yes. He hasn’t been informed about the prints yet, has he?”
“Hasn’t been time.”
“I’ll tell him, then.”
Runyon went out into the hall to make the call. But Dragovich wasn’t at his law office; his secretary said he’d gone to a meeting on another case and that he wasn’t scheduled back in today. Runyon tried the attorney’s cell number. Crap. Voice mail.
He went back into the Homicide Division. “Unavailable,” he said to the inspectors.
“So the talk will have to wait,” Farley said. “Just don’t let it wait too long.”
“I won’t.”
“And don’t let yourself become unavailable, meanwhile.”
“I was on the job for fifteen years myself, remember? I know the drill.”
“Sure you do. But sometimes even ex-cops get careless.”
“Only if they have a reason,” Runyon said. “If you want me before Dragovich or I get in touch, I’ll be where you can find me.”
* * *
He was at loose ends, now. Nothing to do, nowhere to go, until he heard from Dragovich. He’d promised Bryn he’d try to find out how Bobby was doing, but there wasn’t any way to accomplish that short of asking the boy’s father, and Darby wouldn’t be forthcoming. Dragovich might know; she’d asked him to check as well. Again, nothing to do but wait for the lawyer’s return call.
The agency or his apartment? After five now and South Park was closer to the Hall of Justice, but Tamara would probably still be at the agency. She meant well, he was fond of her, but she’d ask a lot of questions that he was in no mood to answer. Home, then. If you could call a four-room, cheaply furnished apartment home.
The drive up over Twin Peaks and down to Ortega took nearly half an hour. Still no word from Dragovich by the time Runyon got there. The apartment had a faintly musty odor he hadn’t been aware of before: too long without an airing. He turned up the heat and then went to open the bedroom window partway, letting the chill evening breeze come swirling in.
On his way back past the bed, his gaze automatically went to the framed photograph of Colleen on the nightstand. He stopped for a few seconds to look at it. Not a day went by that he didn’t think about her. But the thoughts were no longer morbid, heavy with the crippling grief that had obsessed him for so long; only sadness remained to darken the memories of their two decades together. Bryn was in his life now and he’d keep her in it no matter what happened with this Whalen crisis, but not as a replacement for Colleen. Different kind of relationship, different emotional needs. A mortal version of life after death.
He brewed himself a cup of tea. Some still edible cheese in the fridge and half a box of crackers, but the prospect of another small, tasteless meal like all those he prepared when he was alone made his stomach churn. In the living room he started to turn the television on, changed his mind, and left it dark. No stomach tonight, either, for the company of talking heads and flickering screen images.
He let himself go dark, too. Sat in his waiting mode on the couch, the tea untouched. He would have sat there like that for hours if he’d had to, but he didn’t have to; it was no more than ten minutes before he finally heard from Dragovich.
Runyon ran down the latest developments for the lawyer, including his suspicion that the person Bryn was covering for was her son.
“Good news on the one hand,” Dragovich said, “not so good on the other. I can mount a strong argument at her arraignment that the homicide charge be dismissed for lack of evidence, but the district attorney is likely to pursue an obstruction charge unless she recants her false story and admits she’s protecting her son. In that case, the judge will surely rule in their favor. Most judges take a dim view of any detained suspect who willfully makes a false statement that hinders a police investigation, no matter what the reason.”