assigned to the case. It was all Calvano could do to keep from laughing as he listened. Apparently, the fact that he was invisible to both Gonzales, and now the public, did not bother him a bit. For once, being a screw-up had its advantages.
âDetective Gunn,â Stanford finally asked Maggie. âWhat news do you have in this sad case of a missing, beloved community figure?â
Maggie stared at the reporter like Stanford was some streetwalker she had been caught in the act, and it was not until Calvano gave her a discreet push that she answered. âWe cannot comment on the case, but we can assure the public that we are doing everything possible to bring home this beloved mother-to-be and kindergarten teacher.â
Maggie had nicely regurgitated Stanfordâs own words but also managed to look like she wanted to throw up a little more.
By then, Maggieâs ex-husband, Skip Bostwick, had reached the center of the crowd and was whispering to one of Stanfordâs cameramen. The cameraman nodded and gave his boss a signal. She caught it out of the corner of her eye and, sensing that Maggie was not going to be the interviewee she had hoped, she smoothly changed tack. Turning to Maggieâs ex-husband, she announced to the camera, âWe have a forensic expert straight from the state of Delawareâs famed crime laboratory who is prepared to give us insider information on results of sensational tests that call the husbandâs innocence into question.â
Maggieâs mouth fell open, fortunately off-camera, and Calvano tugged her away before she could lunge at Skip Bostwick and start swinging. Calvano hustled her in through the doors of the station house, where four policemen were standing guard to keep outsiders out. He did not say anything until they were near the elevators, but he did not let up on his pressure either. He was going to get Maggie as far away from the news crews and her ex-husband as he could before she exploded. Calvano was a dumb-ass, but he knew women and he could feel the fury sparking off Maggie as surely as I could.
âInside,â he commanded her as the elevator arrived. She was still looking over her shoulder, but Calvano shooed her inside the car and I hurried in after them. The door closed and at last Calvano could speak. âYou know that he doesnât have anything thatâs really a clue,â he told her. âItâs just bullshit for the ratings. The lab is not going to give him any meaningful results.â
âYou donât know Skip,â Maggie said quietly. âHe has friends everywhere. He could be out there divulging some important piece of evidence right now.â
âNo way,â Calvano said shaking his head. âGonzales is too smart for that. Heâs either sending them on a wild goose chase, or just telling them what they want to hear so we can work the real evidence.â
âI hate that man with every fiber of my being,â Maggie suddenly declared, and I knew she wasnât talking about Gonzales. âIs it just me or does obnoxiousness leak from every one of his pores?â
âYou wonât have any argument from me on that point,â Calvano admitted.
The elevator doors opened and Gonzales was waiting for them, smartphone in hand, watching the tail end of a live streaming video of their encounter with Lindsey Stanford. God, that was creepy. He had been four floors above them and yet had seen every move they made. âNice quote,â he said to Maggie, pointedly ignoring Calvano.
âSir,â she muttered. âWe need to talk.â
Whatever Maggie had hoped Gonzales might do to help them block the press from access to their investigation, her worst fears were realized when he informed her that he knew that Lindsey Stanfordâs technical consultant was her ex-husband and he expected her to make the most of the situation.
âYou want me to suck up to him?â Maggie asked in a