Camouflage(63)

The barn next. Big, tumbledown, boards missing, the double doors drawn shut. But the structure itself wasn’t what held my attention, led me to try sharpening the focus. Parallel ruts showed in the grassy earth fronting the doors. Tire marks stood out in the softened earth—fairly deep and fresh looking, made by a heavy vehicle such as a Ford Explorer. I followed them backward to where they thinned out and merged with the ruts in the track.

“I was wrong,” I said as I lowered the glasses. “Somebody’s been here recently. Have a look at the front of the barn.”

Chavez took the binoculars, made his study. “Yeah, I see what you mean. Been and gone, you think?”

“Looks that way. Can’t be sure from up here.”

“Wait and see if anything happens?”

“That’s the passive option. I’d just as soon go on down and find out one way or the other.”

“Works for me.”

I made one more scan of the buildings, the creek, the meadowland beyond. Everything still and empty looking in the pale morning light. Then I recased the glasses, shoved off the outcropping.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s get it done.”





24



JAKE RUNYON

Before he was allowed to talk to Bryn Saturday morning he had to endure more than an hour of the usual necessary legal and procedural bullshit.

First there was a consultation with Thomas Dragovich. Runyon had called him after delivering Bobby to his father and enduring another round of verbal abuse from Darby, despite the boy corroborating where he’d been and how he’d been found, and had brought the attorney fully up to date, including his suspicions as to Bryn’s motives and his conviction that Bobby was innocent. But Dragovich was a careful man; he wanted to go over the questions Runyon intended to ask Bryn, to make sure they were acceptable and her rights would be protected.

Then there was a conference with Dragovich, Inspector Crabtree, and an assistant district attorney named Magda Halim. On Dragovich’s advice, Runyon told them exactly what he believed and why. Neither Halim nor Crabtree seemed surprised; Crabtree admitted that he and his partner had guessed it might be the boy Bryn was protecting and had passed along their suspicion to the DA’s office. Halim asked several pertinent questions—testing his honesty, Runyon thought. She was a no-nonsense ADA, probably a hard-liner in most cases; but Dragovich had told him she was also the mother of two young children and therefore might be sympathetic to Bryn’s protective stance. He hoped Dragovich was right.

They sent Runyon out of the room so the three of them could talk things over. When they called him back, Halim told him he could interview Bryn, with herself, Crabtree, and Dragovich present, but that if in any way he attempted to lead or direct her, the interview would be terminated immediately. When he agreed, Crabtree called to have Bryn brought down to one of the interrogation rooms.

Dragovich took Runyon aside for another quick conference, to tell him that if Bryn recanted and cooperated fully he was pretty sure Halim and the police would be willing to release her without any further charges. So it was all up to Runyon. Handle the interview right, get her to open up, and she’d be free again.

The interrogation room wasn’t one of those with the two-way glass. Nor was there any video equipment; evidently Crabtree and Halim had decided taping the interview wasn’t necessary. Just four bare walls, a table with two facing straight-backed metal chairs, two other chairs set at the table ends. Familiar territory to Runyon. He’d been in carbon copies of interrogation rooms like this any number of times during his years on the Seattle PD.

A matron brought Bryn in a minute or so after the rest of them trooped in. He felt some of his tension ease when he saw that they’d let her wear her scarf; if they hadn’t, her self-consciousness would’ve made the interview more difficult. The exposed side of her face was very pale; otherwise she seemed composed in a drawn-up, girded way—a woman preparing for another ordeal. They hadn’t told her Runyon would be there; her composure slipped a little when she saw him.

The matron escorted Bryn to one of the chairs at the table. Runyon took the one facing her. Dragovich pulled a third chair around on Runyon’s side, but away from the table. Halim stood at the opposite end and Crabtree leaned against a wall, both of them in position to watch both Bryn and Runyon as they spoke to each other.

He said, “You holding up okay?”

“Yes. Jake, what are you—”

“I saw Bobby last night.”

She blinked, leaned forward. “You did? Where?”

“Your house. I found him there.”

“… I don’t understand. What was he doing in my house?”