The Replacement Child - By Christine Barber Page 0,73

the man.

“I think Melissa Baca was going to confront whoever took the photos,” Gil said. “We want to find that man and question him.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”

“Do you even know if Sandra was forced into making these photos?” Paine didn’t answer, so Gil tried again. “Dr. Paine, your daughter was exploited by this man. I think it’s strange that you don’t want him punished.”

“Wouldn’t it hurt Sandra more to see her name on the ten o’clock news?”

“We don’t release the names of any victims….”

“Officer, please,” Paine said, smiling weakly, “You know as well as I do that these things are always leaked to the press. Honestly, my wife and I discussed this at length. We simply feel that this a family matter for us to handle. It’s in Sandra’s best interest. We have decided it is not a concern of the police.”

“I think a sexual predator is most definitely a police concern,” Gil said. Paine stared at him impassively. “Dr. Paine, can you understand how it looks that you’re being so uncooperative?”

“I assume you’re implying that it was me,” Paine said, frowning a little at Gil’s question. “If you want to continue with that line of questioning, you can contact my wife’s attorney.”

Gil tried a different tact. “Can I talk to Sandra?”

“I’m sorry, that’s not possible. She’s been sent to Denver to stay with her aunt.”

Conveniently gone so that the police couldn’t question her, Gil thought. But at least if she was out of town, she was also safe from the man who had taken the photos.

Paine eased back in his seat. “Besides,” he said, “it wouldn’t do you any good to talk to Sandra. She is very stubborn. She would never tell you anything, and she’d just call you a million nasty names. She gets it from her mother. And believe me, Sandra wasn’t forced into taking the photos. She did it willingly. She’ll try anything.”

Gil was having a hard time finding his way through this interview. Dr. Paine wasn’t reacting correctly to any of the questions. He had had no emotional outbursts and didn’t even seemed concerned about his daughter. He looked like a man engaged in boring dinner conversation. Gil wondered why that was.

“Where is your wife?” Gil asked. Mrs. Paine might be more willing to help her daughter and give him the names of friends Sandra might have confided in. At the very least, Gil might be better able to judge her reactions to his questions.

“She’s out right now, but I will tell her that you stopped by.”

“May I ask where you were on Monday night?” Gil asked.

Dr. Paine looked at him calmly. “Once again, I must remind you that any further questions in this area must be directed to our family attorney. However, I don’t want to seem difficult. I was in surgery until nine P.M.”

“And your wife?”

“Here at home with Sandra,” he said.

Gil glanced around the huge room. “Can I see any other couches you have in the house?”

“There are only these two.” Paine sat quietly, looking at Gil. The man was too calm. Was he on medication? Had he been drinking? Or was he telling the truth? Was he so used to Sandra’s misbehaving that it no longer interested him? Gil had seen the families of drug addicts act unconcerned because they had seen it all before. They were tired of the drama. But this was a twelve-year-old girl. How much drama could she have caused?

Gil got up, gave Paine his business card, and asked him to give it to his wife. He was opening the front door when Paine said, “It seems to me you should be looking at Miss Baca’s drugged-out friends. That’s what she gets for leading that kind of life.”

Sandra Paine watched the tall Hispanic detective through the upstairs window as he left. The back of his head looked a little like Gregory Peck’s.

As the detective was getting into his car, he slipped a little on some black ice. Sandra giggled. Her father, who was just reaching the top of the stairs, glanced at her sharply. Like she wasn’t supposed to laugh. She glared at him and went into her room, careful to slam the door.

She sat down at her computer and typed “Gregory Peck” in one of the search engines. A Web site created by someone named Jo-jo popped up. Pictures of the actor were surrounded by a border of roses.

“What a cutie,” she whispered to herself. She clicked on an audio clip from one of