"No one. And I could've seen. See the window? It looks over the water. Right there. That one."
It did indeed, though it was so grimy with smoke residue that at dusk it would've been impossible to spot much through it.
Dance removed the small notebook she kept with her and flipped it open. Jotted a few notes. "Are you married? Anyone else live here?"
"Nope. Just me. Solo. Not even a cat." A smile. "This," Annette said, "what you're asking, makes it sound like there was something going on. I mean, like you think somebody did something at the club on purpose."
"Just routine investigation. We always do this."
"Like NCIS."
Now Dance smiled. "Just like that. You can't see the club from here but would you have by any chance taken a walk last night, ended up near there?"
"No. You gotta be careful. We've had mountain lions."
True. A woman had been killed not long ago, a jogger, banker from San Francisco.
"You were in all night?" Dance asked.
"Absolutely. Right here."
"And anyone you didn't recognize in the neighborhood recently? Not just last night."
"No, ma'am, I certainly didn't. I'd tell you if I did."
Another note.
Dance reached into her purse and exchanged her pink-framed glasses with a pair that had black metal frames.
Predator specs.
"Annette?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Could you tell me why you're lying?"
She expected denial, expected resistance. Expected anger.
She didn't expect the woman to drop to her knees, overcome with sobbing.
Chapter 13
Kathryn, no. You can't be Civil half the time, Criminal the rest. It doesn't work that way. We've been through this."
Charles Overby seemed just pissy. She was in his office, close to 5:00 p.m. She was surprised he was still here; there was still an hour of tennis light left.
She knew he was right but the fast dismissal--it doesn't work that way--was irritating.
She asked, "Who else is going to handle it? We're short-staffed." The CBI had been hit with budget cutbacks like every other agency in California, whose new nickname among government workers was the "Bare State," a play on the grizzly on the flag.
"TJ. Rey. I'll assign one of them."
These were two very competent agents but young. Neither they nor anyone else in the Bureau had Dance's skill at interrogation. And this case, she felt, had instances aplenty to get people into interview rooms. There were nearly a hundred victims, any one of whom might have a lead. Any one of whom might also be the perp himself. Stationed by the club door last night, where he could escape safely if it became too dangerous--maybe to enjoy his revenge for a real or imagined slight.
Or just because he wanted to watch people die.
"You shouldn't even be in the office. You should be home planting flowers or baking or something... All right, I'm just saying."