But no. He was gone. She actually asked her father, disbelieving, “Is he dead?”
“Yes, but watch—the dragon is about to show up.”
She never actually saw the dragon. She burst into hysterical tears, occasionally screaming at her dad that he lied to her, until her mother walked in and stopped the video. O’Donnell cried for hours that weekend, and days later she would start sobbing again for no apparent reason.
She’d bought the video as a teenager, planning to watch that scene again and laugh at her own childish naive tantrum, only to find herself blubbering as Atreyu screamed for Artax to move. She’d ejected the video and smashed it.
Now, as an adult, she would occasionally feel as if she herself was trying to make her way through the Swamps of Sadness. Each step more difficult than the last until just stopping and letting the swamp swallow her sounded almost peaceful.
That was her state of mind right now.
Koch had managed to procure the search warrant and had called from Swenson’s house twenty minutes before. They’d entered the premises, and the house had been empty. There was no one else there. He said he’d call if they found something they could use.
Swenson’s lawyer had shown up, and they were talking in the interrogation room. It was a safe bet that they wouldn’t get another useful word from Swenson, and his lawyer would insist that they let his client go. He wasn’t under arrest, not yet. They had nothing tangible on him.
She took out her phone, intent on calling Koch, but her finger wavered. She dialed her husband instead.
“Hey.” A tinge of chilliness in his voice. No one else would have spotted it, but she could almost feel the phone’s temperature dropping. They were supposed to go to the zoo that morning. Instead, she was here.
“Hi, hon. Sorry, I think it’s going to be a long day again. Something happened . . .” She wanted to tell him about Rhea Deleon. A woman walking in her neighborhood, taken by killers who raped their victims after drinking their blood. But she didn’t. She’d found out long ago that talking about work at home was a bad idea. “Anyway, I’ll probably miss bedtime again.”
“Okay.”
“Can you put Nellie on the phone?”
A moment of silence, and then, “Mommy?”
“Hey, baby.”
“Guess what I have in my hand.”
“Daddy’s phone.”
“No, in my other hand.”
“I don’t know. What?”
“You have to guess.”
“Is it one of your dolls?”
“No.”
“Uh . . . a ball?”
“No.” Nellie giggled.
O’Donnell smiled. “What, then?”
“I won’t tell you,” Nellie said teasingly.
Apparently, O’Donnell was a worse detective than she’d thought. Not only could she not get Swenson to talk; she couldn’t even convince her five-year-old. “I bet it’s dog poo.”
“Ew! No it isn’t.”
“It’s smelly dog poo.”
“Ew, Mom!”
“I’ll tell my cop friends that Nellie is holding dog poo.”
“It’s not poo—it’s a lollipop.”
“Ah! That was my next guess.” She grinned idiotically. “Baby, I might not make it until bedtime. But I’ll call to say good night.”
“Promise you’ll call?” There was a clear tone of accusation in her question.
“Yeah, cross my heart.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
“Bye, baby.”
“Bye.”
She stared at her phone after hanging up. After a few seconds it lit up and rang. It was Koch.
“Hey,” she said. “I was just about to call you.”
“I’ve got something,” Koch said. “Swenson’s computer is locked, and we were told not to mess with it until our techs get their hands on it. But we found a bunch of DVDs here, and I checked a few with my laptop. It’s homemade porn. Swenson appears to be the main star.”
He was dying to tell her something. “And?”
“Several of the videos are of him and Catherine Lamb.”
Got you. “Do you think she was aware that he was filming?”
“We already found the camera. It was well hidden. And she showed no indication in the video that she was aware of its existence.”
“Bastard.”
“Also, I don’t know if you can use it, but he’s been keeping a lot of cash hidden under his mattress. There’s over five thousand dollars here. My first thought was drugs, right? But I couldn’t find any here. I spoke to the guys from K-9; they’re sending a dog here just in case.”
“That’s a good idea.” She doubted he’d find any. The money wasn’t related to drugs.
“That’s it so far. We’ll keep looking.”
“Send me some photos of the cash. And call me the moment you find anything else. Great job.” She hung up. She wasn’t stuck anymore. She knew how to get Swenson to talk.
Nellie wasn’t holding dog poo, but Swenson sure was.