Part 5 (1/2)
Shannon must have seen it, too. ”That sounds frightening.”
”I'm not in any danger. But those girls are.”
”So tell me what you saw.”
Katie wasn't normally a believer in psychics, and the idea that this Blackman had suddenly turned up with visions at an opportune moment-well, she'd seen it before. Usually people with an attention-seeking disorder, or a con man looking to defraud the families. Which was he? Her money was on con man. But...still...Teal could have reached out to him.
She was about to mute the sound again when she heard him say, ”-pink and purple streaks in her hair.” He was describing Lena. Katie hesitated because those were specifics, and con men and attention-seekers alike avoided anything specific. ”They're in a van, one either without windows in the cargo area or with the windows blacked out, and they're in the desert on Highway 347, or they were half an hour ago. There are at least three abductors in the van with the girls.”
That was far too specific for a con. Katie hesitated, weighing the remote in her hand. Watching Blackman, who radiated nothing but a tense sincerity.
”I don't think it's s.e.xual,” he said. ”It doesn't feel like that. It's more like a kidnapping-money, politics, I don't know. But it seems professional, the way these people are acting.”
The camera cut back to Shannon, who looked appropriately skeptical. ”Mr. Blackman.” It was a reproof, perfectly delivered. ”You flew out here from L.A. on the strength of a vision, to tell us that two girls we already knew were in danger are in danger? Don't you think that's a little self-serving, at best? What proof can you offer that you're not a fake or a con artist?”
Bravo, Katie thought. An on-point thrust.
Blackman parried without apparent effort. ”I didn't come here to get attention, and I didn't come to make money,” he said. ”I came to help the police. If the police won't talk to me, then I'll catch the red-eye back home tomorrow. But I hope they will. I believe I can help, and that's the important thing. Getting these girls back alive and unharmed.”
Somehow, Katie felt as if Blackman were talking directly to her. As if he knew she'd hear. It even seemed that his eyes were on hers through the television screen, although of course that was impossible.
Shannon maintained her skepticism as she turned back toward the camera. ”That's the latest from the scene of the kidnapping of two young girls here in the Phoenix area, Charles. The police are shutting down the crime scene, and we'll have to wait for an official statement from the Glendale police, which should be coming in the next hour. Back to you.”
They were still at the crime scene.
Katie muted the television and continued on to Rebecca's office, where she dialed Kayla Ryan's home phone number. Kayla answered on the second ring.
”I need another favor,” Katie said.
”Well, I can't say I don't owe you a few, especially since you're here doing a big one for us.”
”I need to have a uniformed officer pick up a guy at the crime scene and detain him until I get there. The guy's name is Blackman. He's with Shannon Connor right now.” She gave his physical description, trying to keep any subjective judgments out of it.
”How long will you be?” Kayla asked. ”Just so I can tell the cops who pick him up.”
”Believe me,” Katie answered, ”I'll hurry.”
Chapter 6.
P laying keep-away with bikini girls on VeniceBeach was nothing compared to playing intellectual keep-away with Shannon Connor. She wasn't just some stringer for ABS, Stefan realized almost immediately; she was ambitious, she was sharp and she was good. Good enough to engage him on a level he hadn't felt in a long time. Part of it was her aura-she gave off a complicated, heady energy that was two parts cleverness and one part bitterness.
If he hadn't been empathic, and hadn't been able to tell what she wanted him to say, she'd have manipulated him halfway back to Los Angeles without him being any the wiser. He was glad to be done with the interview, glad to have, he thought, come off as considerably more sane than she wanted him to. Reporters liked the crazy. Especially television reporters.
Once the hot lights were off, Shannon turned off some of her intensity, too. She was beautiful, he thought, but not his type-too demanding, too focused on herself and not others. He sensed she had more in her, better things, but she'd spent a long time covering that up.
”So, Stefan,” she said, and slipped her arm in his as she stepped down from the wide truck that served as her mobile studio. ”Are you really just going to hang around here all night, waiting for someone from the police to take an interest? Because I can promise you, if they do, it'll be the wrong kind of interest. They're not trusting people.”
”Do you have any other suggestions?” Reflexive flirting. He didn't mean it. He realized thankfully that neither did she.
”Well, I'd volunteer to show you around the town, but I'm a little busy with the kidnapping story.” Shannon gave him a smile to show him that was a pity. ”Really, you should go home. n.o.body's going to take you seriously, not unless you come up with a viable suspect's name.”
Two uniformed police officers ducked under the crime-scene tape. That wasn't unusual; the cops were packing up and dismantling equipment, getting ready to roll up the scene. It was a bit like watching a set being struck in Hollywood, Stefan thought.
What was unusual about these two cops was that they headed straight for the ABS remote van, walking with a purpose.
”Heads up,” Shannon said. ”Looks like you got what you wanted. Nice meeting you, Stefan.”
She winked at him and walked away. He stayed where he was, hands at his sides, as the cops approached. Something about cops always made him want to stick his hands in his pockets, but he'd long ago realized that it made them paranoid.
”Hi,” he said as the two of them stopped just about two feet away. He extended his hand. They were both big men with identically hard eyes. Neither took his hand.
”Mr. Blackman?”
He nodded.
”Would you come with us, sir?” The spokesman for the two had a deep Barry White voice. ”We've been asked to hold you for a while until the FBI can talk to you.”
”Am I under arrest?”
”No, sir. Not under arrest. The agent would just like to speak with you. She'll be here as soon as possible.”
Unexpectedly, the other officer smiled. ”We've got coffee. It's almost fresh.”
”Well,” Stefan said, ”why didn't you say so? Lead on.”
He wasn't thinking of the coffee, though it did sound tempting. He was thinking that they'd said FBI, and they'd said she.
That gave him an unexpected feeling of pleasure.
The search of the Academy and its grounds turned up nothing. Sheila Prichard wasn't answering either her home or cell phones. Katie handed that part of the investigation over to the Glendale PD, and Kayla, and headed back out to the crime scene.
The only sign that it had been a crime scene was a few lingering news vans packing up for the night after their live shots. The cops had all gone, except for one police cruiser sitting parked at the curb, just about where Teal and Lena had been dragged into a van.
The police cruiser was empty. She looked around, and saw a small diner on the corner with a warm glow coming from its plate gla.s.s window. And clearly silhouetted inside, two uniformed police officers and Blackman.
She walked across the street and down the block, slowing as she approached. She wanted to observe her subject without being watched in turn. He wouldn't be able to see far into the dark, as bright as it was inside the diner. Whatever he and the two cops were talking about, it was clear they'd bonded; they were all smiling, animated. Blackman gestured like an Italian when he was engaged.
The diner's door chimed when she walked in, and the counter man looked up and nodded at her, unsmiling. She ordered a cup of coffee and went back to join the three in the booth.
”Officers,” she said and nodded to them. They'd both gone back to the sober, blank masks she was used to seeing with street cops. ”FBI Special Agent Katie Rush. Thank you for your courtesy.”
”Ma'am.” They slid out of the booth, one at a time. ”He's all yours. Night, Stefan.”
”Night, guys,” he said, as casually as if the cops who'd detained him were old poker buddies. Strange. More than strange, that they'd been treating him with the same bonhomie. It wasn't natural, not for police.
Stefan nodded for her to take a seat. He was still smiling, hands curled around his coffee cup on the laminate tabletop. Nice hands, she couldn't help but notice-not overly large, but graceful fingers. Funny how attractive men's hands could be.