some of the victims and potential victims—local babysitters and nannies.”
I closed my eyes. Yes, indeed. I did.
“And you know people who’ve been in contact with those women. We want to find out who has links to the victims. Especially men who’re connected somehow to all of them.”
I blinked, remembering gymnastics. The conversation about coach Gene asking out Tamara and claudia, getting rejected by both. Did he know the other missing women, too? I thought about him while Detective Stiles kept talking. Everyone liked and trusted Gene; kids loved him. No one would suspect a peppy, friendly guy like him. And, working with young children, he had daily contact with lots of nannies.
“Think about it,” Detective Stiles was saying. “As you come up with names, make me a list. Also, I’d like you to study Dr. Gardener’s perp profile. See if you recognize anyone who fits the picture. Anything that rings a bell. Even if nothing does, I’d like you to be on the lookout, keep your eyes and ears open.”
I was confused. I pictured Charlie on his porch, alert, standing guard. Was I supposed to join him? “You want me to spy on my neighbors?”
Half his mouth rose in its lopsided smile. “That’s pretty cold, Ms. Hayes.” The smile disappeared. “But no. It’s nothing that extreme. Just read the profile, look around you, and communicate any relevant thoughts directly to me. What do you say?” His eyes waited, alert and intense.
What did I say? I pictured myself leaping a fence, chasing suspects around the corner like a damn charlie’s Angel. He couldn’t be asking for that. More likely, he wanted me to be his local informer. A snitch. How did I feel about that? Did I want to sleuth around the neighborhood, hunting a dangerous psychopath? I had a child, a home. A bubble to protect. But that was the whole point, wasn’t it? I wanted to protect my home and child and Angela and Bonita and the whole neighborhood. Yes, I’d help. You bet I would.
“Of course, I’ll do whatever I can.”
Stiles gave me a hearty half grin. “Good. Let me get you a copy—” His cell phone rang again and he picked it up. His free hand rubbed his eyes, then brushed through his hair. What had happened? What was wrong? His gaze returned to me and stayed there. What was he looking at so hard? Was there paint on my nose? His eyes were disturbing, intense. Something awful had happened. “Mother of God,” he blinked. “Give me five minutes.”
He stood there, watching me. “Sorry, I have to cut this short.” He stood, reached for his coat.
Again, I saw the finger drop into the Baggie, felt a dizzy spin.
Stiles’s coat was on, the doorknob in his hand. “You all right, Ms. Hayes?”
No. I was cold as ice. “Yes. Fine.”
“We’ll need to go over the profile some other time. To talk, uninterrupted.” Detective Stiles glanced at his watch. “How’s dinner?”
Dinner?
“You know Ristorante La Buca? Near Washington Square? I can have a car pick you up—”
Wait. Detective Stiles was asking me to dinner? “No, that’s okay—thanks.”
He winced. Why was he wincing? “Oh, well. Then, maybe we can meet in the—”
“Oh—I mean, La Buca is close to my house. I can walk.” He brightened and I understood; he’d winced because he’d thought I was turning him down. “It’ll be dark. You sure?” “I’ll be fine.”
“Great. It’ll be my way of apologizing for scaring you before. How’s eight o’clock?”
What was I doing? I couldn’t have dinner with him. What would I do with Molly? Angela couldn’t sit at night—and I wouldn’t ask her, not with so many nannies missing. No, I couldn’t go.
“Fine,” I heard myself say. “Eight o’clock’s fine.” My voice had answered on its own. “Great. See you there.”
I stayed in the conference room, jumbled, as if awakening from a nonsensical dream that I had to sort out. Why was Stiles asking me—a civilian—to get involved in a police investigation? And why had I agreed? No matter how much I wanted to help, I had Molly to think about. For her sake, I had no business putting myself at risk. I’d been impulsive. Maybe I should back out. Even as I had that thought, I knew it was wrong. I wouldn’t back out.
Molly, Angela, our home and neighborhood—they were being threatened, and I had a chance to help protect them. No way would I turn it down.
For the rest of the day, my eyes wandered to the clock, counting hours