Free The Disappearance by J. F. Freedman Page B

answers truthfully. “I have a million people riding in my car. Anyone could’ve tossed it in there.”
    In an adjoining room Logan and Williams are watching over the video feed.
    “He’s handling this well,” Williams comments; he’s nervous as hell about this. “If he’s our man.” Doubt is starting to creep in.
    “He’s a television personality,” Logan reminds him. “He’s trained to be cool under pressure.” He pauses. “And to lie when it’s convenient.”
    Inside the interrogation room, Jackson is pressing. “Man, you let anybody rides with you mess around in your glove compartment?” he asks with a disbelieving smile. “I don’t let anyone in my box, not even my old lady. I got my car phone in there, gasoline credit cards, all kinds of personal stuff. Come on, man,” he says jocularly, “a guy like you?” He winks at Joe. “You’re not going to let anybody rummage around in your personal stuff, I know that for a fact.”
    Joe shrugs. “I don’t keep my personal things in there. What is the point of all this?” he adds.
    Jackson changes the subject. “Tonight was your swan song at the station, so I hear.”
    “Yes. I’m moving to Los Angeles.”
    “Ooooh,” Jackson croons. “Tough city. Too big for this small-town boy. But if you want to get to the top, you got to make the move, right?”
    “Yes.”
    “Guess your boss’ll be sorry to see you go. Mr. Lancaster.”
    “He knows it’s a good career move. That’s the way it is in our business.”
    Jackson shakes his head in sadness. “What a terrible thing that family’s gone through. And they never did find out who did it. We take that personally in this office,” he adds, as if defending the entire department.
    “You’re right,” Joe agrees. It was a terrible tragedy. He knows—he and Glenna have talked about it. Since her marriage broke up, she and Joe have spent time together. She needs someone to talk to, and he’s a sympathetic listener.
    “You were pretty close to them.”
    “I still am. I’ve talked to Mrs. Lancaster about it. Moving ninety miles south isn’t going to diminish our friendship.”
    “That’s good, that’s good.” The detective stares at Joe for a beat. “That young girl, their daughter. I heard she was a hell of a nice kid.”
    “She was a wonderful kid,” Joe says forcefully.
    “A little headstrong, though? We’ve heard stories she used to sneak out and meet up with boys, right under her parents’ noses.”
    “I wouldn’t know about that,” Joe answers stiffly. He’s uncomfortable talking about this kind of personal thing regarding the dead girl, especially with someone he’s never met before.
    “You never heard any of that?” the cop asks.
    “No.”
    “But you were friends. Not only with the parents, but with the girl too.”
    “Well, sure,” Joe admits readily, “Emma and I were friends, despite the difference in our ages. She was very mature for her age.”
    Jackson sits back. “I’m about done here,” the cop says. “A couple more questions is all. Not about your deal,” he adds, “that was an accident. We’re not going to bust you on that. We don’t want you going down to L.A. starting your new job with a cloud over your head.”
    Joe sags with relief. That’s what he’s been waiting and hoping to hear. “Thank you,” he says to the cop. He’s revised his attitude about the officer—he isn’t a bad guy, he had a job to do.
    “That kidnapping still bugs me.” Jackson leans forward again. “I was one of the detectives working on it, and us not solving it, it just … it sticks right here,” he says, pointing to his Adam’s apple.
    “I can understand that.”
    “You were around the house all the time, weren’t you,” Jackson says suddenly by way of left field.
    “A fair amount.”
    “You were probably there the day she was snatched.”
    “Not that day, no. I hadn’t been there for about a week, as I recall. All the rain, there wasn’t much going