“He was contrite, he was apologetic,” Karen said. “I believe he was legitimately afraid that I would violate him. When I told him I’d give him one last chance, he nearly cried.”
Wouldn’t you? my inner voice asked even as I wondered how it was possible that a woman who did what Karen did for a living could retain such a rosy outlook. “You said that Scottie told you he went to his girlfriend’s for a quick visit after work,” I reminded her. “He said he fell asleep. He said that when he woke up he first called the halfway house and then reported there as soon as he could.”
“That’s right.”
“He said the girlfriend was Joley Waddell. Did you see Scottie when we were at her place?”
“Maybe he was sleeping in the bedroom. Maybe Joley didn’t say anything for fear that he’d get into trouble. Or maybe she was embarrassed that we caught them together.”
“Maybe you’ve lost touch with reality,” Bobby said. “Ninety minutes’ leeway before he has to report in—I never heard of anything so ridiculous. Parolees in halfway houses are supposed to be treated like they are incarcerated. No leeway at all.”
“Those are the rules—”
“Then why weren’t you following the rules?”
“Because they’re men, not animals,” Karen said. “Besides, you don’t even know for sure that Scottie had anything to do with the kidnapping. You heard a voice on the phone. A voice that was disguised. You’re just guessing.”
“Ms. Studder,” Honsa said. His voice, as always, was in neutral. “Did you contact Ms. Waddell to confirm Thomforde’s story?”
“I didn’t. Roger did.”
“He’s the facility’s administrator?”
“Roger Colfax, yes.”
“Did Ms. Waddell confirm Thomforde’s story?”
“Yes.”
“She said that Thomforde had been with her?”
“Yes.”
“All evening?”
“I know it looks bad, but there could be a perfectly reasonable explanation.”
“Jeezus,” Bobby said.
“Did Mr. Colfax believe Ms. Waddell?” Honsa asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you contradict her story?”
“No. You said—you said before that you wanted to give Scottie the illusion of space. You wanted him to think he was still in control. So I told him I was satisfied for now, but that we’d discuss the matter again, later.”
Honsa smiled his reassuring smile at her. “That was excellent work, Ms. Studder. Thank you.” To the rest of us, he said, “If McKenzie is correct, and Mrs. Thomforde managed to contact her son, managed to tell Scottie that McKenzie and Ms. Studder were searching for him, Thomforde has to believe that McKenzie suspects him. But he must also believe that the police and the FBI aren’t involved. If he thought we were, I think he would run. What other choice would he have? But he hasn’t. Which means he thinks he’s safe. So now we can watch, just as we had hoped.”
“It’s possible,” Harry said, “that Mrs. Thomforde didn’t contact her son. That this is all part of the plan. Thomforde kidnaps Victoria, makes sure she’s secure for the evening, and then returns to the halfway house to avoid being violated, to avoid having anyone look for him.”
“Then why not return at seven when he was expected?” asked the tech agent. “He already had the girl. His partner could have made sure she was secured for the evening.”
“We don’t know the partner’s situation,” Honsa said. He was doing what he said he wouldn’t—brainstorming in front of the victim’s family. Yet I doubted either Bobby or Shelby would have had it any other way. “Perhaps he’s on parole as well. Perhaps the conditions of his parole are more stringent and carefully monitored.”
If Karen felt a jab at that last remark, she didn’t show it.
“They left Victoria alone, didn’t they?” Shelby said. “They chained her up and locked her up and left her alone. She’s all alone.”
She didn’t have a reason to make that assumption, but who was going to argue with her? Not me.
“They won’t do anything to endanger her,” said Honsa. “They need Victoria…” He nearly added “alive and unharmed,” yet edited himself. The words hung in the air just the same.
“She’s alone,” Shelby said. She gripped Bobby’s hand so tightly that his fingers turned white. He didn’t so much as grimace.
“Did you check the prison records?” I asked.
“Yes,” Harry said. He slid a computer printout across the table to me. “The staff at Stillwater has no recollection of a prisoner called T-Man or Mr. T. This is a list of everyone with a first or last name starting with the letter T who’s been released in the past twelve months. Lieutenant Dunston checked the names that he recognized.”
I studied the list. Bobby had checked eight names with a red pen. I could add nothing. It had been a while since I arrested anyone.
“One thing, though,” I said. “I think you should tap the phones at the halfway house, Mrs. Thomforde’s house, and Joley Waddell’s house.”
“Already taken care of,” said the tech agent.
“I think you should put Tommy Thomforde under surveillance as well,” I added.
