Free Redzone by William C. Dietz

had been on TV talking about the Bonebreaker case, so it was only a matter of time until Mrs. Kaplan remembered her. “I’m in charge of the Bonebreaker investigation,” Lee said.
    Mrs. Kaplan frowned. “That’s right . . . You were on the news. Does this mean that you think Arnie is the Bonebreaker?”
    â€œWe think it’s a possibility,” Lee replied.
    â€œWhat he did to Carol was horrible,” Mrs. Kaplan said, as she looked away. “I don’t know what went wrong.”
    â€œSuch things are always hard to understand,” Lee said sympathetically. “Your son never tried to contact you?”
    Mrs. Kaplan’s eyes swung back to make contact with Lee’s. “No. Arnie knows I would turn him in.”
    â€œWhat about other members of the family? How do they feel?”
    â€œHis brother and sister feel as I do,” Mrs. Kaplan answered. “As for my mother, well, she lives in a state of denial. She believes that Arnie is a doctor.”
    â€œI see,” Lee said. “Can I speak with her?”
    â€œOf course, but it won’t do you much good. She’s senile. But I’ll write the address down and let the assisted-living center know that you’re coming.”
    â€œThank you,” Lee said. “I would appreciate that. Would it be okay if I took a look around?”
    Mrs. Kaplan made a face. “I can’t say that I like the idea, but I guess there’s no point in saying no. I’m sure you can get a search warrant if you want to.”
    â€œI will be as nonintrusive as possible,” Lee promised. It took about fifteen minutes to check all of the rooms. Not for little things but to see if another person was living in the house. And as far as Lee could tell, Beth Kaplan was telling the truth.
    As Lee left, Mrs. Kaplan gave her a piece of paper with an address on it. “Please take it easy on my mother. She’s eighty-six and in poor health.”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œAnd one more thing,” Mrs. Kaplan said, as they stepped out onto the porch. “If you run into my son, don’t turn your back on him.” And with that, she went back inside.
    *   *   *
    It was still morning, so Lee decided to visit Kaplan’s grandmother. And since the assisted-living facility was only two miles away, the trip didn’t take long. As Lee pulled into a large parking lot, she saw that the building was three stories tall, nicely painted, and surrounded by a well-kept lawn. Before leaving the car, Lee got on the radio to let the shadow team know what she was up to. And as she got out of the vehicle, Lee couldn’t help but look up to see if a drone was circling above. The sky was clear.
    Lee entered the lobby via a wheelchair-friendly automatic door and crossed over to the point where a reception desk fronted one wall. The woman seated behind the mahogany bulwark had a pleasant appearance and a somewhat exaggerated manner. It was as if she believed that every word she said had to be amplified. Her name tag read, WILMA . “Good morning!” she said, in a voice loud enough to be heard on the other side of the room. “How are you?”
    â€œI’m fine, thank you,” Lee answered. “My name is Cassandra Lee. Mrs. Kaplan said she would call ahead.”
    â€œYes,” Wilma said brightly. “You’re here to see Mrs. Kelly . . . Please sign the guest book. Then I’ll call Margaret and let her know that you’re here.”
    Lee took a ballpoint pen out of a cup with a smiley face on it, and was about to sign the register, when something occurred to her. “Tell me,” she said, “does Margaret get a lot of visitors?”
    â€œHer daughter comes at least once a week,” Wilma answered cheerfully, “and her grandchildren visit regularly as well. Then there’s Dr. Duncan . . . He drops by one or two times a