“Except Shelly Umber,” Louis said. “She wasn’t running away from anything.”
“But she was not vulnerable like the others.”
“Explain,” Louis said.
“You have to look at the times in each case,” Landeta said. “Emma disappeared in the fifties. Things were different then. Women were usually looking for someone to take care of them.”
Landeta got up from the chair. “But by the sixties, girls were a little different. They weren’t all looking to get married. They were looking for other things —- excitement, a feeling of belonging to a family so they ran off to communes or Haight-Ashbury.”
Louis was watching Landeta as he paced slowly around the room.
“Take Cindy Shattuck,” Landeta went on. “In need of affection, especially from men, with a stuffed monkey as her favorite possession. She was a baby, put out on the street by her mother. And Paula...fat, unhappy, working in a dead-end job and dreaming of having a baby she could love.”
“And Mary Rubio,” Louis said. “Looking for a family, any family.”
“But now, times are different. Young women now are more independent,” Landeta said, “which brings us to Shelly Umber. A strong woman who wanted to be a doctor and climb mountains. She was the only one who didn’t go willingly. She might have been the only one who tried to escape. So Woods had to shoot her.”
A sharp buzz made Landeta pause. “Pizza,” he said, moving to the door.
He left and came back a minute later with the pizza box. He set it on the coffee table in front of Louis, flipping open the lid. The aroma made Louis’s stomach churn with hunger and he eagerly dug out a slice. Landeta did the same, taking it back to the Eames chair. Neither said a word as they devoured their food.
Finally, Louis tossed down a crust and finished off the Heineken. “So except for Umber, you think they all went willingly?” he asked.
“Not exactly. I think Woods seduced them into thinking he could give them what they needed,” Landeta said. “He was Daddy, the white knight, Prince Charming, and Mr. Goodbar, whatever the girls needed him to be.”
Louis was shaking his head. “Okay, I can buy that for Emma Fielding. Frank was young then. But he would have been in his thirties when he met Cindy and Paula. And in his forties for Mary Rubio.”
Landeta nodded. “Yeah, and fifty-five when Angela Lopez disappeared.”
They were both quiet for a moment. Landeta got another slice of pizza and went back to his chair. Louis did the same. When he had finished it, he looked at Landeta. He started to call to him but hesitated, unsure what to call him. Suddenly “Detective” seemed too formal, yet “Mel” wasn’t quite right either.
“Hey,” Louis said.
Landeta turned.
“The old woman in Immokalee? She told me Angela was meeting a boy, not a man. Angela called him some Spanish name for ‘hunk.’ And she also said the guy was Hispanic.”
“Well, what do you —-?”
“Wait, wait a minute,” Louis said. He sifted through his papers, pulling out his notes on Jim Reardon. “Sophie’s father told me she ran off with Frank but he called Frank Mexican.”
“He’s sure it was Frank?”
Louis unclipped the old photo of Frank and Sophie from the report and held it out. “I showed him this picture. Reardon said this was definitely the guy Sophie ran off with. And he said Frank spoke a foreign language and had a Spanish-sounding name.”
“Give me the picture,” Landeta said, rising. He held the photo up to his face and stared hard at it. Louis rose and went to the kitchen, tossing his empty beer bottle in the trash can. When he came back, Landeta had moved to a desk in the corner and switched on the black drafting lamp. As he pulled it closer, Louis saw it had a large built-in magnifier. Landeta was hunched over, peering at Frank’s picture.
Landeta looked up. “Well, at least we know now why we couldn’t find Frank’s past. He must have changed his name.”
“Do you think Frank could have taken on an accomplice?” Louis asked. “Someone younger who could have lured Angela?”
“Beats the shit out of me.” Landeta took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, then looked back at Louis. “When did you talk to Sophie’s father?”
“Earlier today,” Louis said. “He’s a bitter old man and Sophie’s stepmother told me he drove Sophie way. She fits your theory about running off with Prince Charming.”
Louis realized Landeta was looking at the picture again with the magnifier. “What the hell are you looking for now?”