high up on the PD totem pole without making some—pointed to this as a sign of his weakness, evidence that he was soft on crime. Personally, Nola respected him tremendously for it, but she could see how it was probably not the way he’d want to start a new job.
“As unpopular as I was for saying that, I still stand by it to this day. We could have done serious harm to Grayson Bryant’s reputation if we’d pursued him as a suspect and the press got wind of it.”
“I know that, sir—” She was back to being distantly deferential, as when she’d first met him.
“For goodness sake, don’t ‘sir’ me! I’m not blaming you for anything, Nola. You’ve done your job exactly as required. I just need to let you know how things stand around here.” He sighed, running his hands through his hair. He had just the tiniest hint of silver at the temples, in a way that inevitably made men look distinguished rather than old, and Dalton was no exception. Nola thought fleetingly about Nadine and herself giggling over lunch about how handsome he was, but it was hard to dwell on anything that lighthearted at the moment.
“Nola, this is a high-profile case, and you know that, but it’s high-profile in a different way from most. Oddly enough, if it had been a missing child, no one would likely have the tiniest objection to your working with us, because it would show we’re willing to do whatever it takes. When a wealthy, well-connected, highly influential man goes missing, the game changes. You can’t simply try everything, because everything that doesn’t yield results is going to be seen as a sign of ineptitude, more bumbling police incompetence. Don’t ask me why it’s this way, it just is. We need to be very, very careful here. Do you understand what I mean?”
He said the last sentence gently, with a concerned look as if afraid she might start crying. It was a definite possibility. She straightened up, balled her hands into fists, and tried to get control. “Yes, sir,” she said and mentally winced. It sounded cold. That was better than sounding teary, though.
Dalton smiled faintly. “Look, you said your afternoon case was settled. You have the rest of the day off. Why don’t you go home and relax a bit? Maybe see a movie or hit the mall, something fun.”
Nola nodded, but she knew she wasn’t going to do that. And she wasn’t going to do anything that would make any department types feel the need to snitch on her either. She was going to drive to Albany to look for Anna Villagomez.
9
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hello, Nola.”
Nola put her phone on speaker so she could start the car and get on her way, but there was only silence. This was typical. There had been a brief time when Nola worried that her mother might have early-onset Alzheimer’s, because she would call and appear to have forgotten why. That concern didn’t last. Her mother hadn’t forgotten; she just didn’t have normal conversations. She seemed to think being on the phone with someone could be the same as being with them in person, and long periods of silences weren’t at all strange or pointless.
“How’s work, Mom?”
“I saw Steven yesterday at Wegman’s. He said you were doing some important casework?”
Nola sighed silently. She had asked how her mother’s work was, and her mother was responding as if the questioning had been reversed. Again, typical. “I guess it’s important. It involves Culver Bryant.”
“Greenbriar,” her mother exclaimed, a typical Emma Lantri non sequitur. “Yes, that’s the name of it. They look like very nice houses.”
“Dad says they’re crap.”
This brought out exactly the reaction Nola had known it would. “I would love to live there. Some of them have river views. I was even thinking of taking a look at them one of these days.”
That gave Nola an idea. “It’s near where I’m working. I can stop by on the way home and get some pamphlets and stuff from them if you
“As unpopular as I was for saying that, I still stand by it to this day. We could have done serious harm to Grayson Bryant’s reputation if we’d pursued him as a suspect and the press got wind of it.”
“I know that, sir—” She was back to being distantly deferential, as when she’d first met him.
“For goodness sake, don’t ‘sir’ me! I’m not blaming you for anything, Nola. You’ve done your job exactly as required. I just need to let you know how things stand around here.” He sighed, running his hands through his hair. He had just the tiniest hint of silver at the temples, in a way that inevitably made men look distinguished rather than old, and Dalton was no exception. Nola thought fleetingly about Nadine and herself giggling over lunch about how handsome he was, but it was hard to dwell on anything that lighthearted at the moment.
“Nola, this is a high-profile case, and you know that, but it’s high-profile in a different way from most. Oddly enough, if it had been a missing child, no one would likely have the tiniest objection to your working with us, because it would show we’re willing to do whatever it takes. When a wealthy, well-connected, highly influential man goes missing, the game changes. You can’t simply try everything, because everything that doesn’t yield results is going to be seen as a sign of ineptitude, more bumbling police incompetence. Don’t ask me why it’s this way, it just is. We need to be very, very careful here. Do you understand what I mean?”
He said the last sentence gently, with a concerned look as if afraid she might start crying. It was a definite possibility. She straightened up, balled her hands into fists, and tried to get control. “Yes, sir,” she said and mentally winced. It sounded cold. That was better than sounding teary, though.
Dalton smiled faintly. “Look, you said your afternoon case was settled. You have the rest of the day off. Why don’t you go home and relax a bit? Maybe see a movie or hit the mall, something fun.”
Nola nodded, but she knew she wasn’t going to do that. And she wasn’t going to do anything that would make any department types feel the need to snitch on her either. She was going to drive to Albany to look for Anna Villagomez.
9
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hello, Nola.”
Nola put her phone on speaker so she could start the car and get on her way, but there was only silence. This was typical. There had been a brief time when Nola worried that her mother might have early-onset Alzheimer’s, because she would call and appear to have forgotten why. That concern didn’t last. Her mother hadn’t forgotten; she just didn’t have normal conversations. She seemed to think being on the phone with someone could be the same as being with them in person, and long periods of silences weren’t at all strange or pointless.
“How’s work, Mom?”
“I saw Steven yesterday at Wegman’s. He said you were doing some important casework?”
Nola sighed silently. She had asked how her mother’s work was, and her mother was responding as if the questioning had been reversed. Again, typical. “I guess it’s important. It involves Culver Bryant.”
“Greenbriar,” her mother exclaimed, a typical Emma Lantri non sequitur. “Yes, that’s the name of it. They look like very nice houses.”
“Dad says they’re crap.”
This brought out exactly the reaction Nola had known it would. “I would love to live there. Some of them have river views. I was even thinking of taking a look at them one of these days.”
That gave Nola an idea. “It’s near where I’m working. I can stop by on the way home and get some pamphlets and stuff from them if you
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