She knew this guy somehow. Tenley raised her eyes over her computer monitor, surreptitiously examining him as he came into the surveillance room. Where had she seen him? He was pretty cute, in jeans and a battered leather jacket, kind of cool in an older-guy kind of way. Not someone who worked at City Hall, she was pretty sure.
She checked him out again, couldn’t resist. He looked intense, eyes darting from desk to desk, scanning, like he was looking for something. Or someone. Ward Dahlstrom, maybe? Usually he’d be here to make sure no one sneaked out early for lunch, hovering and bossy like they were little kids. The less the scope of someone’s power, the more they’ll try to inflict it on you, her dad used to say.
Dad. She let out a jaggedy sigh. She’d wanted to go home, Mom did, too, but her mother had hugged her, hard, asked her to be brave and not to say a word to anyone about her father. They had to wait, Mom said. So Tenley would wait, and try to be brave. And she wouldn’t say a word, not one. Like, who was even gonna ask? If her mother could do it, she could do it. They were the only two left.
It was hard to concentrate, though. Sorrow and confusion had pretty much blotted out everything else. It was difficult to decide what was important.
The leather-jacket guy had stopped by the desk closest to the door. Nancie Alvarez, the department’s assistant manager, sat there, skinny and skittish as a baby spider. He was talking to her, his voice too low to overhear. Tenley saw him point at the bank of real-time video monitors displayed across the wall.
She pressed her lips together, holding back tears, trying to focus on her screen and not the guy. Mom had promised to come get her at lunchtime. They’d talk, she promised. Right now Tenley was drained. She’d cried and cried in the greenroom, so hard her whole face hurt. Now there were almost no tears left. Weirdly, she also felt—how would Dr. Maddux put it?—remorseful, maybe. Because she was so self-absorbed. She’d been so focused on herself, she hadn’t thought enough about how her mom must feel.
She was totally relieved her mother didn’t know about last night, her sneaking out to Brileen’s, and she would never tell her. That secret it was okay for Tenley to keep.
The atmosphere of the room changed. Tenley looked up.
Nancie Alvarez was standing. She turned toward the back of the room and pointed. Not at the screens, but at Tenley. At her! Now the guy was coming her way. Holy frigging crap, was she in trouble now?
“I’m Detective Jake Brogan,” the man said, stopping in front of her.
OMG. OMG. A detective. A detective! Was he here about her father? Her mother told her not to say anything. Tenley’s throat closed, her voice disappeared. What if he asked about the video from yesterday? She flinched as the detective flapped open one of those police things at her, like a wallet, with a gold badge inside.
“Miss Alvarez says your computer monitor is set to observe the Curley Park area,” he said. “Can you show me that, please? Show me what’s happening right now?”
Could she? His voice was really calm, not like she’d done anything wrong, and he didn’t look mean, but she still felt her eyes widen and a clench of fear and uncertainty twist her stomach. Of all the stupid times for stupid Dahlstrom not to be here. Why did she have to decide this? She was only a kid.
“I’m not sure I’m allowed,” she said. This guy was a cop, though, and for sure he hadn’t gotten up to the surveillance room without some kind of permission. She looked across the room, hoping for help, or guidance, or advice. Nothing. Everyone else was at their own computers, pretending not to look at her at all. They probably thought she was in trouble for not being here on time this morning. Even though she’d been with her mother. Should she call her mom now?
“Boston Police, miss,” the detective said, like reminding her. Like she could forget.
If she said no to the police, would she get in even more trouble? Or would she be a hero? Crap. When was the last time refusing to do what the police said made you a hero?
She gave up. She simply, totally, gave up.
“Here.” Tenley stood and gestured to her chair, letting him take her place at the monitor. Fine. Let them yell at her. Nancie had sent this police officer her way. She was in charge when Dahlstrom was gone, so Tenley was only following orders. Her life was already ruined, anyway. One more mistake wouldn’t make one bit of difference. Whatever. Nothing mattered. She leaned forward and clicked her mouse so he could see the Curley Park screen.
“Is this what you wanted?” Tenley said.
* * *
Jake hadn’t wanted to push this girl. If she balked, or if the woman at the front decided to call security, this surveillance opportunity would vanish, obliterated by a shit pile of bureaucracy. It wasn’t exactly kosher. He guessed he should have gotten a warrant, but he wasn’t taping or looking at private documents or removing any paperwork.
He was simply getting a better vantage point.
It would be legal to look out a City Hall window, no question. This was exactly the same thing, except he was now sitting in front of an exceptionally well-placed window. Couldn’t argue with that. And there wasn’t much time.
There was no time, in fact. It had been risky to leave his lookout and race up here. The plan was simple. D would raise his arm if there was action, or give a radio call. So far no updates, which meant Hewlitt wasn’t on the move. Strange. Lucky, but strange.
Did Tenley—maybe eighteen? nineteen?—know her father was “missing”? She had the same haunted look around her eyes as her mother. The same sleek dark hair, the same angular jaw. A sad life, that family. Be interesting to find out what, if anything, Catherine had told her. He’d add that to the to-do list.
There it was.
Hewlitt’s black Isuzu. The roof, part of the hood, and the clearest possible shot of the passenger-side door. The driver’s side was partly obscured by trees, but once Hewlitt emerged, he’d be in clear view.
Jake even saw the unmistakable shape of DeLuca, now leaning against the Union Oyster House building a scant half block from Hewlitt’s car. Jake clicked his radio twice, the “I’m in place” signal. D one-clicked as reply. Received.
“Were you here yesterday, Miss, uh, Siskel?” He pretended to stumble on her name. No reason for her to know it meant anything to him, much less that he suspected her mother of lying to him. Whatever Catherine Siskel was hiding wasn’t about the Curley Park stabbing, which was his top priority. “During the incident?”
He risked a quick glance away from the monitor. The girl was frowning, looked distressed, her face pale and dark eyes widening. She had a bunch of holes in her earlobes. Kids.
Back to the screen. No movement at Hewlitt’s car yet, only the ebb and flow of lunchtime traffic, a scatter of jaywalkers, people strolling with shopping bags and dogs on leashes. Couldn’t see faces, not well, at least, but no matter. Jake only needed to see which direction Hewlitt walked.
“Miss? Were you here?” Not a tough question. Either she was or she wasn’t.
“Yeah,” she finally said, “I was here yesterday. But I didn’t see anything.”
“Nothing?” he asked, his eyes still on the screen.
“Um, ambulances, I guess,” she said. “I was on a different camera at first.”
He couldn’t afford the time to look at her. But she was hiding something, too, her tone was an open book. The Siskel family had a lot of secrets.
“The incident get taped?”
“Not by me,” she said.
Interesting answer. And then he saw DeLuca’s shadow change. Did his arm go up? So much for the signal idea.
Jake leaned in closer to the screen, squinting, trying to bring the video into better focus. The quality was good, clear and in color, but just far enough away to be frustrating. “Can you make this zoom in?” he asked.
“Yeah, you can.” The girl leaned toward the screen, her shoulder briefly touching his, clicked the white plastic mouse and dragged it. The scene expanded into a million blocks of unidentifiable pixels.
Shit. “Put it back, please.” Jake tried to keep his voice calm.
She clicked and dragged again. Back in focus. D still by the building. The car door still closed. There was movement, pedestrians on the sidewalks making jagged blurs of color. Then one figure stopped near the passenger side of Hewlitt’s car. The person stood in the lee of the maple tree, only half in sun, striped by shadow.
Jake put a fist to his chin, watching. D hadn’t moved.
The figure on the sidewalk—female? female—took two steps toward the car. Her head turned and she looked up. If she had known the camera was there, she couldn’t have looked more directly into the lens.
Jake still couldn’t see her features, but could make out her bare arms, and bare legs under what must be a short skirt.
“Oh!” The girl next to him made a sound, a strangling gasp.
Jake turned, caught a glimpse of her face. Three words came to his mind.
Seen a ghost?