Downpour

THIRTEEN

After leaving Michael, I found a place to eat lunch and think. Obviously, I wasn’t going to skip out on my meeting with Solis after all, which was a relief, but also a problem. I had to find out if Solis really did believe that Michael had a hand in his brother’s disappearance, and if so, I had to turn him off that idea without telling him the whole truth of the matter. He’d never have believed it if I did, anyway, and I didn’t need to be suspected of being any crazier than he probably already thought me. But I had to have a plausible story that would cast a different light on the evidence he had. Once that light was on, I’d have to let him reconstruct a satisfying scenario on his own; if I gave him a tale that was too complete and whole, he’d become more suspicious, not less. He had to persuade himself.

I finished my lunch and drove back to my office. Parking at the municipal garage is ridiculously expensive, so I left the Rover in my own parking lot and walked to Seattle police headquarters at Fifth and Cherry. The usual afternoon rain hadn’t started up yet and it wasn’t as cold in Seattle as it had been around Lake Crescent, so I didn’t mind the hike, even if Cherry was one of the steepest slopes in downtown. I let my mind wander a little as I went, trying to decide what angle I’d take with Solis, but also just letting the problem of the lake tumble around in hope of some inspiration as to what I should do and if I should take Jewel Newman’s money.

The differences in the Grey landscape of Seattle reminded me that whatever I chose to do, I would not have the advantage of knowing the magical lay of the land any more than I knew the physical geography around the lake. I’d need help up there. But I wasn’t sure whom I could trust. I didn’t even know who the other mages that so upset Jewel were aside from her sister, Willow, and I hadn’t met her. I wasn’t sure about Ridenour’s involvement, but while he wasn’t a mage, he could still be trouble. I didn’t know who else was in the game; the only player I had any kind of line on was Jin, the yaomo. . . .

Thinking about the problem of Chinese demons, I paused for a light at Fourth Avenue and spotted a familiar-looking black coat and hat in the crowd on the opposite sidewalk. I thought about trying to call out to Quinton, but the distance was too great to expect him to hear me. I’d barely formulated the thought, though, when he turned and went across in the other direction, heading north toward Marion Street and the library. I would have liked to catch up to him, but I didn’t have the time, so I contented myself that I’d be able to page him once I was done with Solis and not have to tell him I was going on the lam from the cops.

The cliché from a dozen old crime movies made me smile and I was still smiling when I entered the police headquarters lobby. Solis and his dour expression wiped that off my face soon enough. He escorted me through the security checkpoint and deep into the building to a small room with a sign beside the door that read ATTORNEY CONSULTATION ROOM—NO UNAUTHORIZED RECORDING. That was more reassuring than having our chat in an interrogation room, but only a little, and I experienced an unpleasant jolt of alarm at the thought that Michael might have been wrong about Solis’s suspicions. The decor wasn’t any nicer, either, but at least the chairs were clean.

Solis closed the door behind us and dragged his chair to the short end of the table so he could sit at an angle and closer to me than the usual face-to-face formality of interrogation. I cocked an eyebrow at him.

“You’re not here under any sort of charges, Ms. Blaine,” he offered. “This is not a formal meeting.”

I made a show of glancing around the room. “I feel like I ought to have my lawyer. . . .”

“I assure you, that’s not the case. Now, in the matter of William Novak—”

“Who filed the missing person report?” I cut in.

Solis blinked. “Mr. Novak’s doctor.”

“Which Mr. Novak and which doctor?”

“William’s attending physician, Dr. Booth, at Harbor View. According to his report, he became alarmed when his patient missed several appointments in a row. Mr. Novak was considered psychologically fragile. Is that all you want to know?”

“It’ll do.”

“Tell me all of your interactions with William Novak from the time you returned from England, please.”

“I’ve already gone over them with you once.”

“I am aware of that, but I want to hear it again. Please include as many particulars as you can remember.” He took a notebook out of his jacket pocket and flipped it open to a marked page. I assumed he wanted to check my new statements against the old, and that irritated me for an instant, until I thought what a good opportunity it really was to color in some persuasive bits of truth....

We fenced back and forth for a while, him picking at details, me filling in petty information that revealed little. Finally, he sat back, giving me a long, considering stare. “We should give up this pretense. I do not want to know what Michael Novak told you earlier today. What I do want are details that prove or disprove his tale. So, again, what can you tell me?”

So he knew I’d seen Michael. I wondered which of us he was having watched.... “Do you really believe Michael Novak is responsible for his brother’s disappearance?” I asked.

“Like you with your interest in Steven Leung’s case, I find myself plucking at threads, looking for a pattern. There are more pressing cases that should occupy me, which is why I asked you here. I can spare very little time for this, but I cannot put it aside. There is a shape of a crime, but no clear picture. It is so much smoke and mirrors without substance,” he spat. Frustrated whips of orange energy around him punctuated his unhappy words.

“I honestly don’t remember some of the details,” I said. Some things had scrubbed themselves from my mind; others were too bizarre to describe.

“I believe you. But what more can you bring to mind? If there’s a fact that will cement the cause of William Novak’s disappearance, I want it, whether it implicates Michael Novak or not. I do not wish to lay a charge on an innocent man. But I must know who is innocent, even if I cannot prove who is guilty.” I’d rarely seen Solis so annoyed by a case. He took them all seriously and did his best, but this puzzle seemed to bother him at a personal level.

“I don’t know what else will help you. I saw Will only twice after I returned from London. Once at Rice House Antiques, and I told you he came to see me before the incident at the gym. At that meeting I asked him to go home and stop trying to get in touch with me. He seemed less agitated and I thought he was going to take my advice, but the next evening, when things went to hell up on the hill, it was actually Will who called and got me to go up there.”

“Why did you conceal that from me before?”

“To be frank, I was in no condition to tell you at the time. I thought I’d explained everything when the FBI questioned me, but I guess I didn’t. Later, I didn’t mention it because I thought you’d blame me for Will’s disappearance. You came very close to accusing me of being involved in Kammerling’s kidnapping and Todd Simondson’s death, so why not an apparent-stalker ex-boyfriend, too? And I wasn’t thinking quite straight after getting shot. Most people don’t. As you know.”

Solis pressed his lips together and kept silent while he thought and drew his frustration back down. In a minute he asked, “Why did Novak call you?”

“Maybe because Goodall had called him.”

“Why?”

“To make sure I showed up so Goodall could frame me for what happened. Goodall was a power-hungry monster, but he wasn’t stupid. It wouldn’t have been hard for him to spot Will following me, find out who he was, and get his number. Beyond that, I’m just guessing that he must have fed Will some story about me that convinced him to sneak away from Michael and go up to Queen Anne. After that, Goodall just had to wait for Will to turn up, and then force him to call me with a cry for help. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Did you see William at the gymnasium?”

“Yes. Fleetingly. Then I lost him in the confusion. I did try to find him, but that was about when things went to hell. I will tell you this and it’s the truth whether you believe it or not: Will was alive when I saw him last.”

“It might still be possible that he left the gymnasium and was found by Michael.”

I gave it only a moment’s thought to calculate the times before I said, “No, it isn’t. The timing doesn’t work. Unless Michael lied about when he picked up the car and when he left it at the park. The car rental company might be able to tell you where the car was at what time by looking up the tracking device information, but even without that, I saw Will later than Michael claims to have picked up the car. So unless he found Will totally by luck, wandering around after the FBI and SPD broke into the gym, that idea won’t hold water.”

Solis sighed heavily and leaned back into his chair. “I’ll check the records. I do not want to arrest the young man. I hope that you’re right, even though that leaves the mystery of William Novak’s disappearance unsolved. You know I hate mysteries.”

“Some things never get solved, Solis. There are more than a hundred thousand missing persons cases that have never been closed in the U.S.”

“There are as many where I came from, in a country a tenth the size. And this is no better than any of those.”

“Except that you aren’t going to put an innocent man in jail. Isn’t that worth something?”

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t reply. He wrote something on a page of his notebook and tore it out, handing it to me. Then he stood up suddenly, tucking the notebook under his arm. “You can go, Ms. Blaine.”

“Thank you,” I said, picking up the paper and rising to my feet to follow him to the door.

He showed me out and watched me go, and I had no idea what he was thinking as I walked away.