Albany, New York
“This is beginning to sound like a good news, bad news joke, Mikey,” Alfonso said, setting down his pen and flexing his hairy hand. The bright morning sun caressed the shiny bald spot on his head. Though it was still winter, the bald spot had a perfect tan. “First you locate a school friend in Saratoga Springs. Good news. The friend’s family owns a car like the one the security camera captured leaving the parking garage being driven by a young woman with black hair. Good news. We search the premises and the kid’s not there. Bad news. Girl says she dropped her friend Jenny Cates at the bus station. More bad news. Bus station personnel say they have no memory of having seen Cates. Has she disappeared from the face of the earth?”
“We’ll keep an eye on her friends,” O’Malley said. “She’ll turn up. No money. No credit cards. What’s she gonna do? A little ingenuity, a little bravado. She can’t keep this up much longer.” Neither could he. He was running on too little sleep and the sunshine annoyed him. There were a million things to worry about besides the whereabouts of a slippery twenty-one-year old. Like running a political campaign. All they had to do was wait until spring break was over and she’d go back to school. They could get her then. Unless Buxton’s people got her first. That was the only thing that worried him, losing her before they got the stuff. He didn’t even care about the girl. He wanted the tape, if there was a tape, or whatever it was she’d given to the chaplain. The man admitted he’d peeked in the envelope and it looked like a diary, like the girl had said.
The governor’s wolfish grin came and went. “We keeping an eye on her friends?” O’Malley nodded.
There was a knock, and the governor’s brusque “In,” brought Keris Carlyle, rested and smiling, looking like she’d just won the Kentucky Derby.
“What the hell are you so cheerful about?” O’Malley grunted. At this point, he resented anyone who didn’t look like they’d been through the wringer. He’d seen his own face. The genial Irishman after a two-week bender. “Didn’t anybody tell you this is doom and gloom day. Unless you’ve come to tell us you’ve found her.”
“No such luck,” she said. “But maybe I’ve found something better.”
“The video tape?” O’Malley said hopefully.
“Not yet. But take a look at this.” Keris reached in the envelope and pulled out a large color photograph of Senator James Buxton, laying it on the desk in front of the governor.
Alfonso made a face. “Who’s this guy? Someone I’m supposed to know? Looks like some pansy-ass wasp politician.”
She pulled out another photograph, this one a color studio portrait of a teenage girl, and laid it down beside the first. “Notice anything?” she asked.
Alfonso and O’Malley bent over the pictures. O’Malley saw it first. “No shit!” he said. “Hot damn and praise the Lord. What a gift!”
“What?” the governor demanded impatiently. “What gift? I see Buxton. I recognize the girl. Nice little piece, but what’s the big deal?”
“Look at their eyes, Lou,” O’Malley said. “Look at those big blue fuckin’ eyes.”
Alfonso picked up the photographs and held them out before him, staring silently from one to the other. “Holy Mother,” he said softly. “You’re right, Mikey. This is a gift. Now all we need is a bit of blood from each of them. See if the hospital still has any of the girl’s. And find a way to get Buxton’s.”
He leaned back in his chair, grinning. “What are you waiting for, people,” he said. “Let’s get cracking. I’m out for blood.”