Hello, Darkness by Sandra Brown Page B

expression remained open and concerned. He didn’t fidget as though she were wasting his time on something trivial. If he was faking his interest, he did it very well.
    When she finished, she removed a cassette tape from her handbag and passed it to him. “I went to the station early this morning and made a copy of the call.”
    Insomnia had claimed her until dawn, when she finally surrendered to it. She got up, showered and dressed, and was back at the radio station by the time Charlie and Chad, the morning drive-time deejays, were reading the seven o’clock news headlines.
    “I’ll be happy to listen to your tape, Ms. Gibson,” Curtis said.
    “But this department investigates homicide, rape, assault, robbery. Threatening phone calls…” He spread his hands wide.
    “Why’d you come to me?”
    “I read your name in yesterday’s newspaper,” she admitted with chagrin. “Something about your testifying at a trial. I thought I’d get more personal attention if I asked to speak with a particular detective rather than just showing up without an appointment.”
    Now he looked chagrined. “You’re probably right.”
    “And if my caller does what he threatens to do, it will fall to this department to investigate, won’t it?”
    Sobering instantly, Curtis left his chair and stepped outside the cubicle. He called across the room at large, asking if anybody had a cassette recorder handy. Within moments another plainclothes detective appeared with one. “Here you go.”
    He regardedParis with patent curiosity as he handed the machine to Curtis, whose brusque, “Thanks, Joe,” was as good as a dismissal. The other man withdrew.
    Sergeant Curtis had been a random selection, but she was glad she’d come to him. He obviously had some clout and wasn’t reluctant to use it.
    He returned to his seat and inserted the tape into the recorder, saying in an undertone, “I see word has gotten around as to who you are.”
    Maybe,Paris thought. Or maybe the detective was simply wondering why she hadn’t removed her sunglasses. This wasn’t a particularly bright environment. In fact, it was a room without windows.
    Curtis and the other detective probably assumed that she wore the sunglasses like a celebrity would, to conceal her identity in public or to add to her mystique as a media personality, that she wore them to shut others out. It would never occur to them that she wore the glasses to shut herself in.
    “Let’s see what Mr…. what was it? Valentino?…has to say for himself.” Curtis pressed the Play button. This isParis . Hello,Paris . This is Valentino.
    When the tape ended, Curtis tugged thoughtfully on his lower lip, then asked, “Mind if I play it again?”
    Without waiting for her consent, he rewound the tape and restarted it. As he listened, he frowned with concentration and rolled hisUniversityofTexas class ring around his stubby finger.
    At the end of the tape, she asked, “What do you think, Sergeant? Am I reading too much into a crank call?”
    He asked a question of his own. “Did you try to call the number?”
    “I was so stunned, I didn’t think of calling back immediately, but I suppose I should have.”
    He dismissed her concern with a wave. “He probably wouldn’t have answered anyway.”
    “He didn’t whenCarson called later. No voice mail either. Just an unanswered ring.”
    “The number on the caller ID, you say it was traced to a pay phone?”
    “I’m sure the details are in the report, but Griggs told me that a patrol car in that area had been dispatched to check out the phone booth. But by that time—at least half an hour, maybe more—whoever placed the call was gone.”
    “Somebody could have seen him at the phone booth. Did the patrolmen ask around?”
    “There was nobody to ask. According to Griggs, the area was deserted when the patrol car arrived.” Curtis’s questions were validating her concern, but that only increased her anxiety. “Do you think Valentino was telling