Snapped by Laura Griffin Page B

about body damage?”
    “No.”
    “Are you sure?” Allison asked.
    “Yes.”
    “You didn’t notice a crumpled bumper?” Allisonflipped to the front of her notepad. “Left side, if you’re facing the front of the car?”
    “No.”
    “And you’re certain?”
    She paused. “Yes.”
    Allison made a few notes. “And once again, you noticed the time when this happened and it was—”
    “Twelve-thirty. I’m sure. I’ve even got my parking ticket for you, just to confirm what time I pulled into the garage. Would you like to see it?”
    “I would.”
    “It’s in my purse.” She looked at her watch. “I’m sorry, but speaking of time, we’re running over, which means my post is empty. Is there anything else you need to ask me?”
    Allison pushed her chair back and stood up. “That about does it.”
    Sophie led her out of the room and back to the lobby, where her desk was indeed empty, as she’d predicted. She pulled her purse from the drawer and handed over a yellow parking ticket with the date and time stamped on it. It said 12:36.
    “You know, eyewitness accounts are notoriously unreliable,” Sophie said.
    Allison watched her warily as she handed back her visitor’s badge.
    “I assume that’s why you’re here?” Sophie asked.
    “You assumed right.”
    Something sparked in her eyes. “That and the fact that I could be just some hysterical woman who doesn’t know what she saw?”
    “Listen, Ms. Barrett—”
    “If you really want to know what happened, why don’t you send that Volkswagen up to our lab here? We’re already running all the rest of your evidence, and we’ve got the world’s top DNA experts. They can get a profile off a
single
hair follicle. It’s really amazing. If someone besides James Himmel was in that car, our tracers will find evidence of it.”
    Allison couldn’t help but smile. “Sounds like you’re already trying out the PR job.”
    “I believe in the mission here.”
    “Mission?” She made it sound like a religious quest.
    “The lab’s main goal is to process the enormous backlog of evidence so that DNA can be used to
solve
cases, not just prosecute cases that have already been solved.” She paused. “It’s important work. It saves lives.”
    “I’m sure it does.”
    Some hammering started up down the hall, and Allison studied the woman’s face. The pleasant hostess was gone, replaced by a razor-sharp woman with a glint in her eyes. Far from the ditzy blonde Allison had expected, Sophie Barrett was smart. And she knew exactly how much credibility the task force had given her story.
    The banging ceased, and the phone sang out from the reception desk.
    “Is there anything else?” Sophie asked pleasantly.
    “Not for now.”
    She reached for her headset and gave another perfect smile. “Thanks for coming, Detective Doyle. Let me know if there’s anything more I can do to help.”
    Gretchen’s heart ached as she watched her daughters silently playing on the living-room floor.
    “I appreciate the offer, Marianne. I really do. I just… I don’t know.”
    “What don’t you know?” her sister demanded over the phone. “How could it be any worse than what you’re dealing with now?”
    Her sister had a point. Between the reporters camped out in front of their apartment complex, the dirty looks from neighbors, and the incessant phone calls, she was on the verge of a meltdown.
    “Gretch?”
    “You don’t have room for us,” she said, navigating a minefield of toys so she could peek out the window. “And if anyone finds out we’re there … Trust me, you don’t want these vultures discovering where you live.” Gretchen parted the curtains and surveyed the vultures in question. Some of them had given up since she’d come home from work and given another round of “No comment.” But there were still a few stragglers, and she wouldn’t be surprised if they came pounding on her door with one last request for an interview before the ten o’clock