hell are you two?
“Mrs. DeMarco,” “Jim” replied, “these are the police detectives the Bureau has brought in.” He turned to Cat and Tess. “This is Mrs. DeMarco.” Then he walked out of the room, leaving Gonzales behind.
Hallie has to be Angelo’s stepmother
, Cat thought,
unless she had him when she was twelve.
She said, “I’m Detective Chandler. This is Detective Vargas. We’ll do everything we can to retrieve your son.”
Mrs. DeMarco made a face. “My son,” she said. “Well…” She trailed off. “Thanks.”
She was surrounded by open dresser drawers and jumbles of jeans, running shoes, and hoodies. An acoustic guitar had been placed in a stand in a corner. The room was decorated in early thrift shop—a cheap bureau made of painted particle board, a drawing table, and a twin bed with a peeling wrought-iron headboard. Pencil sketches of young men playing guitars and skateboarding were tacked to the walls. Books and sketchpads were scattered on top of the bare mattress. The sheets were stretched out on the floor like the chalk drawing of a body.
“I’ve looked through everything,” Mrs. DeMarco told Gonzales. “Nothing.”
Cat wondered why there was no one from evidence recovery in here. Maybe there was some concern for Angelo’s privacy… or something the family didn’t want outsiders to see. Drugs. Porn. They wanted to cover that up. Conceal it. Not a good plan. Anything that could provide information about where Angelo was and who had him should be available.
Just then Robertson walked back in. He was carrying a glass of what smelled like straight bourbon.
“Mrs. DeMarco, Mr. DeMarco is asking for you,” Robertson said. He held out the glass. “He asked me to give this to you to help steady your nerves.”
So FBI agents double as cocktail waiters?
These guys were way too familiar with the DeMarco family. It was clear to Cat that this wasn’t the first time they’d dealt with each other.
Hallie DeMarco took the drink and guzzled it down without pausing. Then she handed the empty glass back to Robertson and swayed out of the room. Gonzales sighed and shook his head.
“Let’s get to work.” Robertson moved to the pile of clothes on the bed. He said to Gonzales, “Did she take anything?”
Gonzales colored and turned to Cat and Tess. “As you may have surmised, there’s no love lost between Hallie DeMarco and Angelo. She’s his second stepmother, and she’s pretty new. Just two years into the marriage. He’s called her a gold digger to her face.”
“Is she?” Tess asked calmly.
“She’s not on trial here,” Robertson said icily.
Yet
, Cat thought. “We’re not accusing her of anything.” She was irritated that she had to placate a fellow professional like this. “But if there is any reason to suspect that she had a hand in the abduction, we need to find that out.”
“There’s no reason,” Robertson replied, but Gonzales spoke over him.
“She doesn’t like Angelo. At all.” he interjected.
Cat followed up. “Why not?”
“Hallie Schneider was an LVN—a licensed vocational nurse—before she married Mr. DeMarco. An… employee of DeMarco’s had placed his mother in the assisted living facility Hallie was working in and she caught DeMarco’s eye when he came to pay his respects.”
That didn’t exactly answer Cat’s question. She assumed Hallie was insecure about her hold on DeMarco, and didn’t like having to deal with a resentful stepson who could influence his father against her. Angelo’s rebellion might be directed at her. Maybe he was worried that if his father had a child with his new wife, he would be supplanted, maybe even disinherited.
“Did she assist Angelo with his diabetic treatments?” Tess asked.
“That was his dad’s hope, but Angelo wouldn’t let her come near him.”
“Where’s his mom?”
“Undetermined,” Gonzales said. “She cut off contact when Angelo was a baby and we haven’t found her. Mr. DeMarco
“Mrs. DeMarco,” “Jim” replied, “these are the police detectives the Bureau has brought in.” He turned to Cat and Tess. “This is Mrs. DeMarco.” Then he walked out of the room, leaving Gonzales behind.
Hallie has to be Angelo’s stepmother
, Cat thought,
unless she had him when she was twelve.
She said, “I’m Detective Chandler. This is Detective Vargas. We’ll do everything we can to retrieve your son.”
Mrs. DeMarco made a face. “My son,” she said. “Well…” She trailed off. “Thanks.”
She was surrounded by open dresser drawers and jumbles of jeans, running shoes, and hoodies. An acoustic guitar had been placed in a stand in a corner. The room was decorated in early thrift shop—a cheap bureau made of painted particle board, a drawing table, and a twin bed with a peeling wrought-iron headboard. Pencil sketches of young men playing guitars and skateboarding were tacked to the walls. Books and sketchpads were scattered on top of the bare mattress. The sheets were stretched out on the floor like the chalk drawing of a body.
“I’ve looked through everything,” Mrs. DeMarco told Gonzales. “Nothing.”
Cat wondered why there was no one from evidence recovery in here. Maybe there was some concern for Angelo’s privacy… or something the family didn’t want outsiders to see. Drugs. Porn. They wanted to cover that up. Conceal it. Not a good plan. Anything that could provide information about where Angelo was and who had him should be available.
Just then Robertson walked back in. He was carrying a glass of what smelled like straight bourbon.
“Mrs. DeMarco, Mr. DeMarco is asking for you,” Robertson said. He held out the glass. “He asked me to give this to you to help steady your nerves.”
So FBI agents double as cocktail waiters?
These guys were way too familiar with the DeMarco family. It was clear to Cat that this wasn’t the first time they’d dealt with each other.
Hallie DeMarco took the drink and guzzled it down without pausing. Then she handed the empty glass back to Robertson and swayed out of the room. Gonzales sighed and shook his head.
“Let’s get to work.” Robertson moved to the pile of clothes on the bed. He said to Gonzales, “Did she take anything?”
Gonzales colored and turned to Cat and Tess. “As you may have surmised, there’s no love lost between Hallie DeMarco and Angelo. She’s his second stepmother, and she’s pretty new. Just two years into the marriage. He’s called her a gold digger to her face.”
“Is she?” Tess asked calmly.
“She’s not on trial here,” Robertson said icily.
Yet
, Cat thought. “We’re not accusing her of anything.” She was irritated that she had to placate a fellow professional like this. “But if there is any reason to suspect that she had a hand in the abduction, we need to find that out.”
“There’s no reason,” Robertson replied, but Gonzales spoke over him.
“She doesn’t like Angelo. At all.” he interjected.
Cat followed up. “Why not?”
“Hallie Schneider was an LVN—a licensed vocational nurse—before she married Mr. DeMarco. An… employee of DeMarco’s had placed his mother in the assisted living facility Hallie was working in and she caught DeMarco’s eye when he came to pay his respects.”
That didn’t exactly answer Cat’s question. She assumed Hallie was insecure about her hold on DeMarco, and didn’t like having to deal with a resentful stepson who could influence his father against her. Angelo’s rebellion might be directed at her. Maybe he was worried that if his father had a child with his new wife, he would be supplanted, maybe even disinherited.
“Did she assist Angelo with his diabetic treatments?” Tess asked.
“That was his dad’s hope, but Angelo wouldn’t let her come near him.”
“Where’s his mom?”
“Undetermined,” Gonzales said. “She cut off contact when Angelo was a baby and we haven’t found her. Mr. DeMarco
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