slacks with a black V-neck sweater.
“You were close?” Lena asked.
The woman offered a weary smile, her mind drifting into the past. “We used to be. We sure did. Things used to be real good.”
“When did they change?”
“I guess when she was about fifteen. That’s when she started looking more like a woman than my little girl.”
Lena concentrated on her breathing and tried to relax. She could tell that Pamela McBride sensed why they were here. But the woman appeared willing to talk, and Lena wanted to find out as much
about her daughter as she could before she gave her the bad news. She knew that she would lose the mother at that point. And any background information they might learn before that moment might
prove invaluable to solving the case.
“What about your husband?” she asked.
“I raised Jennifer on my own. Her father walked out before she was even five. I don’t think she had any memories of him. Just what I told her. I didn’t know much myself, so I
tried to keep it positive. For her benefit as well as mine.”
“Did you ever reconcile with her?”
The woman leaned forward with a sense of expectation and appeared visibly nervous now. “When she moved out things got a little better. She found a good job, but things were never really
the same. I always felt like I wasn’t getting the real story. Like she was keeping secrets. You know how kids are.”
Lena tried not to think about what Jennifer McBride had done for a living. Tried not to think about what they found in her duffel bag, or the men waiting for her in their hotel rooms. Still, she
had to ask the question. It was part of the job.
“What did your daughter do for a living?”
The woman took a deep breath and shuddered when she exhaled. “She said it had something to do with advertising. I knew that she was making money because I saw how much she was paying for
rent. There wasn’t much left for anything else. But she seemed to like her job, that’s all I cared about. She seemed happy.”
“Did you see her very often?”
“About once a week. Usually for Sunday dinner.”
“Did she ever come with a friend?”
“A boyfriend?”
Lena nodded.
“No. She never did. I always thought it was odd. A girl with her looks. There should’ve been a line around the block, but there never was.”
The woman’s voice died off and the room became so quiet that Lena thought she could hear the sound of the candle burning on the mantel. She looked at Rhodes staring back at her and caught
the gentle nod. This was the right time to tell her. The right moment. She tried to put the words together in her head. Find some way of saying it that wouldn’t feel like a knockout punch. In
the end she realized that it was hopeless, that she couldn’t protect the woman from what she was about to learn.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” she said. “But your daughter Jennifer has been murdered. She’s dead.”
The woman didn’t move or say anything for a long time. Instead, she stared at Lena, studying her face. After a while a tear dripped down her cheek. Then another.
“If there’s anything we can do,” Lena said. “Anything at all.”
McBride’s mother finally turned away. “It must be some kind of mistake,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry. There’s no mistake. It happened Wednesday night. Her ID was missing. It took us this long to find you.”
Another long moment passed. Lena could see the woman struggling to put it together.
“But I’ve known she was dead for two years,” the woman said.
Lena’s eyes snapped across the room to Rhodes, then rocked back.
“What do you mean you’ve known for two years?”
The woman began to tremble, her voice barely audible. “There was a bank robbery in North Hollywood two years ago. Three men wearing ski masks. Jennifer was at the bank. I thought you came
here tonight to tell me that you finally caught them. The three men who shot Jennifer.”
12
I f fuck-ups
“You were close?” Lena asked.
The woman offered a weary smile, her mind drifting into the past. “We used to be. We sure did. Things used to be real good.”
“When did they change?”
“I guess when she was about fifteen. That’s when she started looking more like a woman than my little girl.”
Lena concentrated on her breathing and tried to relax. She could tell that Pamela McBride sensed why they were here. But the woman appeared willing to talk, and Lena wanted to find out as much
about her daughter as she could before she gave her the bad news. She knew that she would lose the mother at that point. And any background information they might learn before that moment might
prove invaluable to solving the case.
“What about your husband?” she asked.
“I raised Jennifer on my own. Her father walked out before she was even five. I don’t think she had any memories of him. Just what I told her. I didn’t know much myself, so I
tried to keep it positive. For her benefit as well as mine.”
“Did you ever reconcile with her?”
The woman leaned forward with a sense of expectation and appeared visibly nervous now. “When she moved out things got a little better. She found a good job, but things were never really
the same. I always felt like I wasn’t getting the real story. Like she was keeping secrets. You know how kids are.”
Lena tried not to think about what Jennifer McBride had done for a living. Tried not to think about what they found in her duffel bag, or the men waiting for her in their hotel rooms. Still, she
had to ask the question. It was part of the job.
“What did your daughter do for a living?”
The woman took a deep breath and shuddered when she exhaled. “She said it had something to do with advertising. I knew that she was making money because I saw how much she was paying for
rent. There wasn’t much left for anything else. But she seemed to like her job, that’s all I cared about. She seemed happy.”
“Did you see her very often?”
“About once a week. Usually for Sunday dinner.”
“Did she ever come with a friend?”
“A boyfriend?”
Lena nodded.
“No. She never did. I always thought it was odd. A girl with her looks. There should’ve been a line around the block, but there never was.”
The woman’s voice died off and the room became so quiet that Lena thought she could hear the sound of the candle burning on the mantel. She looked at Rhodes staring back at her and caught
the gentle nod. This was the right time to tell her. The right moment. She tried to put the words together in her head. Find some way of saying it that wouldn’t feel like a knockout punch. In
the end she realized that it was hopeless, that she couldn’t protect the woman from what she was about to learn.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” she said. “But your daughter Jennifer has been murdered. She’s dead.”
The woman didn’t move or say anything for a long time. Instead, she stared at Lena, studying her face. After a while a tear dripped down her cheek. Then another.
“If there’s anything we can do,” Lena said. “Anything at all.”
McBride’s mother finally turned away. “It must be some kind of mistake,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry. There’s no mistake. It happened Wednesday night. Her ID was missing. It took us this long to find you.”
Another long moment passed. Lena could see the woman struggling to put it together.
“But I’ve known she was dead for two years,” the woman said.
Lena’s eyes snapped across the room to Rhodes, then rocked back.
“What do you mean you’ve known for two years?”
The woman began to tremble, her voice barely audible. “There was a bank robbery in North Hollywood two years ago. Three men wearing ski masks. Jennifer was at the bank. I thought you came
here tonight to tell me that you finally caught them. The three men who shot Jennifer.”
12
I f fuck-ups
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