this is too much fun,” Gardner said. He picked another candy from the box and popped it into his mouth.
“I’m sorry for bothering you, but I was just watching the girl and this clown stepped in front of me and when I made him move aside, she was gone,” I said.
“She’s gone?” Ty asked. “Where would she go?” He turned to the other cop. “You didn’t authorize her to be transported yet, did you? There’s been no bail hearing yet.”
“I did not approach her, I swear to God. I was simply sitting on the bench watching her,” I said.
“Gardner, what do you know about this?” Ty asked.
“I know nothing!” Gardner said, turning and heading to the stairs.
“Let’s go and see,” Ty said.
I followed the two officers over to the holding cell where the younger man called out a name, Giselle Carros, and Ty looked at the faces of all the women standing and sitting inside. No one came forward. I didn’t see her, nor did Ty. He called over the desk sergeant.
“Was anyone removed from the holding cell in the last ten minutes?” he asked.
The man shook his head. “You have to be more specific,” he said. “I got lawyers, I got uniforms, I got ADAs, and I got detectives coming through here, and some of them are taking people out to interview rooms, and some of them are signing people out, period. You can check the log, but don’t ask me to tell you all the comings and goings for the last ten minutes, ’cause I ain’t got enough time for that in the next ten minutes.”
Ty took the log book and sighed. There on the second line from the top was the name, Giselle Carros. And who signed her out? He took a long look at the page and stuck it under my nose. There was a signature—it wasn’t mine—but it clearly spelled out my name: Cassie Thornton.
“I know, I know,” he said. “It wasn’t you.”
“I was being sexually harassed by Gardner at the time,” I said. “But you must have cameras in here, so you can look at the tape and see who was impersonating me. Right?”
“Why don’t you just get in your car and go pick up your friend, and head out for your little vacation,” he said. “I’ll look into this, and when I find out who this is, I’ll let you know. Okay?”
I think I actually growled at him. I believe I might have frightened him. And then, to top it off, I did something that really scared the bejesus out of him—I agreed.
“Okay. You call my cell if you need me,” I said. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
He followed me out of the station and stood next to me while I dug in my bag for my keys. Reaching around, he opened the door to the new powder blue Prius.
“Oh, it was open?” I said. “Thanks.”
“You don’t need the key to unlock the door. You just have to have it in your bag,” he said. “I believe all you need to do now is push the ‘on’ button to start the car, right?”
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “I just got this car and I haven’t figured out all the features yet. Newfangled thing.”
“I’m glad they replaced your Mini,” he said. “Too bad it got blown up.”
“I know, I really liked that car. But this is better. I don’t have to hunt for gas stations all the time.” I looked up at him. “So, I’m off. I’ll check in with you when I get back.” I pulled the seat belt across my chest and secured it. “Bye.”
Surprisingly, he leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Drive safely,” he said. “Be careful. There’re a lot of bad drivers out there.”
I smiled.
“Oh, and don’t think that you’re going to go and find this girl, either,” he said. “I am on it—and I have someone ready to make sure you’re leaving town. So forget about it.”
“Oh, Ty, remember the good old days when you wouldn’t let me leave town? And now here you are, forcing me to go away?” I said. “It’s tragic, isn’t it?”
He stood up, laughing, and knocked on the roof of the car. “Call me when you get there, okay?”
“You mean your minions won’t report in?” I smiled, trying to soften the sarcasm. “Will do, officer!” I drove away with a toot.
Michael was waiting for me in his lobby with a large duffle bag and a shopping bag from Macy’s. “What took you so long?” he asked.
“Sorry, I was delayed at the police station,” I said. I hefted the bags. “What the hell do you have in here? How many pairs of shoes are you bringing?”
“Just three,” he replied. “And some sneakers. And a pair of slippers. And some dancing shoes, just in case… ”
“Very funny,” I said. “But really. An iron, a hair dryer, and several books. Is that about right?” I tossed his duffle in the back seat and placed the shopping bag in the trunk area. “I have some cold water, do you want one?”
“No, let’s stop for coffee on the way out of the city. My treat,” he said. “Now, tell me what held you up at the precinct? Some intense questioning by our favorite day of the week?”
“Hardly,” I said. “He wasn’t very friendly, and that asshole Gardner was dogging us, so I could hardly get a private moment with Ty, and then the strangest thing happened.”
“You know, Cassie,” Michael said. “I’m starting to realize that those words are actually pretty commonplace in your life.”
I stopped at an intersection. “Where do you want coffee from, Peet’s or Ahmad’s?”
“Go to Peet’s, it’s easier,” he said. “So, continue, what’s this strange thing?”
“Okay, I’m telling Ty about the card and asking him how I can go about getting it tested—it was a no-go on the PD running tests on it, in case you didn’t guess that already—and he was giving me his usual spiel about me not being a detective and all, and Gardner interrupts to say, ‘Hey Thornton, guess what? Your sister just got arrested in a smash-and-grab robbery.’”
“You don’t have a sister,” Michael said.
“That’s what I’m saying. How strange is it that I’m there asking them to investigate a card from your pretend sister when someone pretending to be my sister shows up downstairs! Isn’t that wild?”
He sniffed while I pulled the car to the curb and jumped out at the coffee shop. I ran inside and returned shortly with two steaming lattes. We sat in the car and sipped them for a few minutes while the windows steamed up.
“No muffins?” he asked.
“Really?” I said. “What do you want?”
“Never mind. I should start watching my weight anyway.”
“No, I’ll go back in. How about a couple of biscotti? They’re not fattening. And anyway, start dieting in January. It’s against the law to start watching your weight in December. It’s not natural. So, biscotti—chocolate or plain?”
“You have to ask?”
“Sorry. One of each. Anything else for the road? How about another coffee to share?” I asked. He nodded.
When I returned we each ate one biscotti, and then I divided the coffee between our two cups. When we were almost done, I said, “Ready to go? Or do you want to do a bathroom run before we get on the highway?”
“Just a minute,” he said. “I want to clarify this. So, you went in to ask Ty about the card from my imaginary sister Kristen, and while you were there, someone came in pretending to be your sister.”
“Yes.”