Domestic shit is the worst. We get this call from way out west, Idaho or Utah or one of those places where everything is bassackwards—you know what I mean. Anyway, some guy’s wife has run off with the kids and he’s insisting her pal here in NY helped her run and is harboring her. So we get the address and head out to chat with this woman. She’s got half a dozen kids herself and is living in public housing, so we’re wondering already how she’s got the means to run out west and then stretch her food stamps far enough to feed eight more mouths.
Kid answers the door, with mom right behind. She comes out on the stoop. “Hi. What’s up?” she says, like it’s no big deal. Okay, public housing can do that. She sees cops every day of the week and twice on Sundays.
“We’d like to speak to Leigh Smith,” I say.
Her brows go up. “Sure. I can get you her number.” She turns like she’s going back inside.
“You telling us she isn’t here/”
Her turn back is slower and her eyes go to me, then to my partner, and back to me again. “What are you talking about?”
“She took off with her kids,” I say. “Her husband says she’s here with you.”
“Oh my.” She rakes a hand through her hair and one side of her mouth goes up. “I wondered if she’d actually do something like that.” She shakes her head as though to clear it. “I guess the last time I talked to her on the phone was, oh, maybe Wednesday or Thursday. She sounded pretty freaked. Said she was scared Todd was going to kill her, and then this cop…”
“What about the cop?”
“Oh. Well, he said he’d deny it if anyone asked him, but he told her to get out if she got a chance. Said the situation was heading for some hostage thing where the guy ends up killing his family and then himself.”
“Okay. Well, that’s something for someone to look into, but it’s not us. We just want to find her.” I nod toward her door. “Is she in there?”
“Oh god! This is the last place she’d come if she had a grain of sense. It’s the first place Todd would look.” She laughs under her breath. “Which is why you’re here, right?”
“So you wouldn’t mind us taking a look inside.”
She waves a hand, nonchalant. “Be my guest. Ignore the mess—I never get a chance to clean until the weekend.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “Where is she?”
One eye squints, like she’s thinking. “She has a sister who lives an hour south of her. Little town I can’t remember the name of. Starts with a P, I think.”
“I think he already checked with the relatives.”
“Mmm. Well, I don’t know any of her friends out there.” She brightens. “Have they got any women’s shelters nearby?”
“I don’t know. We’re working on an assurance that she’s either with you, or that you know where she is.”
She shrugs. “Like I said, if she’s into hiding, most people would agree that it would be a mistake for her to come here or tell me about it. Todd would be on me first thing.” She smiles. “Which is why you’re here, right? Leigh’s scared, but she’s not an idiot.”
“Do you know where she is?”
She frowns. “Your guess is probably as good as mine. Like I said, I haven’t talked to her on the phone since last week. She kept saying she couldn’t leave because of this or that, which means she was thinking about it, I guess.”
I stare hard at her. “You wouldn’t lie to us, would you, Ms. Dwight?”
“I never lie.” She grins. “Too hard remembering what story you told.”
“So everything you’ve said to us is the truth.”
“Absolutely. It would be a mistake to lie to the police, even if I hadn’t already decided never to lie.”
I study the ground. I hated to admit it, but I believed her. Everything she’d said was the literal truth. But she also knew where her friend was. I was pretty sure about that. So we stood around for another half hour, trying to get a straight “yes” or “no” out of her. She fucking wouldn’t do it. Answered my questions with questions, told me seventeen times about that last chat on the phone, told me it’d be crazy hiding in the first place Todd would look. Crazy like a fox, maybe. I kept grilling and she kept being earnest and helpful without telling us a thing.
Right about then, one of her kids bursts out of the house, with another right on his tail. They’re both sputtering out their sides of the argument and she stills them both with a look. After a pregnant pause, she says softly, “Can you see that I’m talking with these police officers?” They both release heavy sighs, turn, and walk back into the house without so much as exchanging dirty looks.
As she turned back to me, I saw the reality beneath her pleasant mien. This was a woman who had her tongue and her emotions firmly in hand. I wasn’t going to rattle her, she wouldn’t get careless and let something slip, she would never allow herself to get caught in a straight out lie. Somehow she’d gotten her friend out of a dangerous situation and she’d put her someplace safe. She’d never endanger her by telling us.
I glanced at my partner, who shot me a look from under her lashes. “Okay,” I said. “How about giving us a call if you find out where she is?”
“Would that be the right thing to do?” she asked.
I left without answering the question.
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