daughter, Ashley, may have been touched inappropriately by someone close to her when she was younger.” Rodriguez started to talk, but Gil interrupted him with a raised hand. “I can guarantee you, Rudy, that our investigation will uncover the truth. In light of that, if you know anything about it, you should tell me now.”

“She’s my daughter,” Rodriguez said with a short laugh that was almost a bark. “Why would I do something like that?” He shifted in his chair and leaned back.

Gil sighed. Rodriguez had assumed that Gil was accusing him, and he had just given one of the most typical deceptive responses. If he hadn’t abused Ashley, he would have been emphatic and firm in his denial, not indirect.

Still standing, Gil moved his chair directly in front of Rodriguez to the recommended distance of four feet. It was close enough to ensure intimate conversation but not close enough to make the suspect feel crowded. Gil sat down slowly, the manila folder in his lap. He opened the folder. The copier manual opened to a page about built-in networking operations. Gil looked at it for a ten count, taking a moment to read about the connections necessary for a secure network, then closed the folder. Rodriguez shifted in his chair, leaning back and folding his arms.

Gil took the opposite posture and leaned forward. He kept his facial features soft and sympathetic. “You know, Rudy, I just want to find the truth out about what happened to your granddaughter. I know you want that, too. I see how much you loved her, and I know you would have protected her if you could have . . . and I know you feel the same way about Ashley.”

People always thought interrogation was fireworks of accusations and threats, when in fact it was a calm journey of a thousand lies.

Lucy sat in her car, staring at the apartment. It had been fifteen minutes, but Andrea still hadn’t come out. Lucy had spent the first five minutes debating what to do, but she knew if a blond-haired Anglo suddenly knocked on the apartment door, it wouldn’t help the situation.

A large sign hanging on the side of the building read: PARKING FOR RESIDENTS ONLY. ALL VIOLATORS WILL BE TOWED AT THEIR EXPENSE. Lucy laughed. The sign was a scare tactic. Nothing more. She had yet to meet anyone in Santa Fe who had had a car towed, even in the most egregious of situations.

Lucy looked again up at the apartment, but nothing had changed. She gave it another few minutes before texting Andrea. R U All Right? It took a minute, but the reply was a short Yes back. That relaxed Lucy a little, and she turned on the radio. The stations all had Western-sounding names, like the Range, the Peak, and the Coyote. She tuned in the public radio station that was playing its usual Northern New Mexico music of rancheros and mariachi. She flipped to the other public station, which was playing powwow music.

A man in a T-shirt and jeans walked past the car, and she quickly turned the station. She wasn’t sure that as a white girl she had the right to listen to Indian music. They might think she was one of the many who came to Santa Fe in search of their own tribe—and did peyote and talked of the gift of the Great Spirit while sipping latte.

She watched the man go into the apartment complex office and close the door. He must be the manager. They would have to talk to him later, but only after they had secured a few interviews on the record. What Andrea was trying to get right now was simply information. They wouldn’t reveal she was a reporter unless they had to. Instead, Tommy would come back next week and interview the people on the record, hoping that they would talk.

The man in the T-shirt came back out of the office and locked the door. He started walking up the stairs to the upper level just as Andrea, in her laughing way, began to come out the upstairs apartment door. The last thing they needed was for the manager to see her. If he did, and he challenged what she was doing there, they would have to tell the truth. Such was the journalism code of ethics. Lucy swore and got out of the car. In one motion, she pulled her hair out of its ponytail and pulled her blouse down lower.

“Excuse me,”