Last Seen. Rick Mofina

made a note. “And Faith is with a public relations firm downtown?”

      “Yes.”

      “How would you describe Faith, Cal—is she calm or a nervous person?”

      “She can be both.”

      “How would you describe her intelligence?”

      “Her intelligence?”

      “Yes, is she a genius, a linear thinker, slow to grasp things?”

      “No, she’s very intelligent, way smarter than me, graduated near the top of her class. She was in Mensa for a while.”

      “Mensa? Really?” Price made notes. “Is she generally liked by others?”

      “Yes.”

      “Is she religious, devout?”

      “She’s Catholic, goes to Mass. Well, not as much as she used to, but she’s still involved in the school and church.”

      “What about you?”

      “I was raised Catholic, was an altar boy, but I stopped going to church a long time ago.”

      “Why? Were you abused or something?”

      “Too much hypocrisy for me.”

      “So you lost your faith.”

      “No, guess you could say that I put it on the shelf.”

      Price made notes. “Back to Faith—is she a good mother, attentive, or career-focused?”

      “She’s a good mother. Gage is her world.”

      “Would you say she’s confident or self-conscious?”

      “Both, depends on the situation. She can be sensitive and sensitive to other people’s feelings.”

      “Is she restrained and controlled or does she give in to urges and temptations?”

      Cal hesitated at the word temptations and met Price’s eyes, wondering where this line of questioning was headed.

      “She’s a disciplined, hardworking, devoted mother who has a weakness for banana milk shakes and tacos.”

      “What about her spending habits?”

      “She likes to shop—she’s fashionable. She buys things for Gage. But she’s not out of control or anything. In fact, she earns more than I do.”

      “Does that bother you?”

      “No.”

      “Really?”

      “Really.”

      “Tell me about her hobbies, likes, dislikes?”

      “She picks the mushrooms and onions off her pizza or salad. She loves to read, mostly general fiction. She belongs to a book club. She likes TV crime shows.”

      “Really? What kind?”

      “The true-crime stuff—Dateline, The First 48, unsolved murder mystery stuff, forensic stuff.”

      “And you?”

      “No, I don’t watch those shows.”

      “Funny, I would think it would be the other way around.” Price made notes. “Have you ever been unfaithful to her, Cal?”

      “What?” Cal shot her a look for offending him. “No.”

      “Has she ever been unfaithful to you?”

      Price sipped from her mug, as if she’d just asked him the time of day, watching him from over the rim. Cal swallowed and looked into her eyes. They were indifferent to any pain she may have caused as she waited for an answer. Cal suddenly imagined Faith across the hall and Lang asking her a similar question.

      “No. She’s a good wife and our marriage is solid.”

      Price nodded and made notes.

      “Sure, we argue from time to time. I’ve ticked her off and she’s ticked me off. Mostly it’s me ticking her off, but that’s what a marriage is.”

      “I wouldn’t know. I’m not married.”

      A soft knock sounded at the door.

      A man in a suit, who looked senior to Price, stuck his head in.

      “Excuse me, Rachel? Something’s come up. We need you now.”

       13

      Long before the knock on the door had ended Detective Price’s interview with Cal, across the hall in Interview Room 403, Detective Leon Lang slid a tissue box closer to Faith Hudson.

      “Faith, I know you’re devastated and exhausted but the sooner we get through this, the faster Detective Price and I can go to the next step.”

      “I’ve told you everything.” She touched a tissue to her eyes. “How can I sit here talking to you when every fiber in me is screaming that my child, my baby, is missing and when—” her fingers tightened into fists, her knuckles whitened “—when I don’t know where Gage is, if he’s safe, if he’s warm, if someone’s hurting him.”

      “I know this is hard but we have to work together to help Gage, all right?”

      Lang’s soft smile was assuring, his tranquil demeanor calming. That he had a daughter close to Gage’s age made his compassion genuine.

      “All right.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

      “Good,” he said, and consulted his notes. “Before we move on, I want to go back to the last moment you saw Gage. You say that you saw him in the spinner at the exits with Cal?”

      “Yes, the last I saw him he was with Cal.”

      “You’re certain about that?” Lang checked his notes. “Because in your initial statement to Officer Ripkowski you indicated you weren’t sure.”

      “Yes, there was confusion—the floor was spinning, the strobe lights and the guy with the saw—but I’m sure I saw him with Cal.” Her chin crumpled.

      “But he obviously wasn’t with Cal when you exited.”

      “No.” She shook her head and brushed her tears.

      “All right, I want to move on. Does Gage take any medication of any kind?”

      “No.”

      “Does he have any chronic illness or injury or condition?”

      “No.”

      “Has he ever needed or received counseling for any issues?”

      “No.”

      “Any problems in school?”

      “Academically?”

      “Start with that, yes.”

      “No, his grades are good. He likes school. He completes his assignments. He’s very bright. He told me he wants to be an architect, that he wants to design buildings and stadiums.”

      “What about peer pressure or bullying at school?”

      “No, nothing that I’m aware of.”

      Lang made notes while Faith glanced again at the camera up in the corner that was recording everything.

      “Has anyone moved in or out of your neighborhood recently?”

      Faith thought. “The Robinsons at the end of the block—they’re accountants. They retired and moved to Nevada about two months ago. A family—the Carrutherses, from Seattle—moved in with twin teens, a boy and a girl. They keep to themselves, pretty much. I think the dad works at O’Hare