Hangman

“Thank you.”

Decker maneuvered the car onto the freeway shoulder, turned on his hazard lights, and took the cell. “This is Lieutenant Decker.”

“I’m sorry to bother you.”

“No bother. What’s going on?”

“I can’t find my mom. She’s not here and she’s not answering her cell. My dad isn’t answering his cell phone, either.”

“Okay.” Decker’s brain was whirling a mile a minute. “How long has it been since you’ve spoken to your mom?”

“I came back to the hotel around six-thirty, seven. We were supposed to go to dinner. She wasn’t here. Her car isn’t here, her purse isn’t here, but she didn’t leave any note or anything. That’s not like her.”

Decker’s stomach dropped. His watch said it was almost nine. “When was the last time you spoke to her, Gabe?”

“Around four. You were already gone. Mom said that everything went well. She sounded fine. She said she wanted to run some errands and she’d be back around six. I don’t know if I’m overreacting, but with Chris, I just don’t know.”

“Where are you now?”

“I’m at the hotel?”

“In the room?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay. Gabe, I’m turning around and I’ll be there in about a half hour. Leave the room and wait for me in the lobby. I want you in a public place, okay?”

“Okay.” A pause. “The room’s okay…I mean like nothing was disturbed or anything.”

“That doesn’t mean that your dad can’t suddenly show up. It wouldn’t be good for the two of you to be alone.”

“That’s true.” A pause. “Thanks.”

“No thanks necessary. Just walk out that door and don’t look back.”

Fifteen minutes later, Decker pulled his Porsche into the valet lot. The parking attendants were different from the ones who had been here in the afternoon. When they asked how long he’d be staying, Decker told them that he didn’t know.

The resort hotel was fifteen acres of lush plants and tropical foliage set at the foothills in Bel Air. The evening air was sweet from night-blooming jasmine with a hint of gardenia. Broad-leaf palms, ferns, and flowering bushes lined stone walkways and draped over the edges of a man-made lagoon populated with ducks and swans. Decker and Rina crossed over a bridge, glancing at the lake as the birds glided by.

Decker faced her. “Why don’t you take the car and go home.”

“Hannah’s at a friend’s house. I can wait.”

“I don’t know if I want you around in case Chris pops in. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“How about if I wait in the lobby?”

“Would you mind? It may take a while. If I don’t find her right away, I’m going to have to do a search of the hotel.”

“It’s not a problem unless they kick me out.” She paused. “What are you going to do with Gabe? You don’t know what’s going on. You certainly can’t let him stay here by himself even if he was of age.”

Neither of them spoke.

Rina said, “He can stay with us.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I don’t think you have any choice.”

“He has a grandfather living in the Valley.”

“Then contact him in the morning. One night with us won’t make a difference.”

“You really are Earth Mother.”

“That’s me,” Rina said. “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, et cetera, et cetera. Emma and I had a lot more in common than just our last names.”

ALTHOUGH THE ACTUAL hotel was series of connected low-profile, pink stucco bungalows topped with a Mediterranean red-tiled roof, the lobby was a stand-alone building. Through the window, Decker could see the registration desk with a uniformed woman flipping through files, an empty concierge desk, and a suite of traditional furniture facing a stone fireplace. One of the beige chairs was taken up by a lanky adolescent—The Thinker done by Giacometti. He and Rina went inside and the thin kid looked up, then stood up. Decker tried out a reassuring smile. “Gabe?”

He nodded. Good-looking kid—an aquiline nose, strong chin, a mop of dirty blond hair, and gem-quality emerald eyes that sat behind a pair of frameless glasses. Not much bulk, but he had the same kind of wiry muscle that his dad had as a teenager. He appeared to be grazing the six-foot mark.

Decker held out his hand and the boy shook it. “How are you doing?” The kid shrugged helplessly. “This is my wife. She’s going to wait here for me…or for us. Still haven’t heard from anyone?”

“No, sir.” He looked at Rina as much as he did at Decker. “I’m sorry to drag you down here. It’s probably nothing.”

“Whatever it is, it’s not a problem. Let’s take a walk back to the room.”

The woman at the registration desk looked up. “Is everything all right. Mr. Whitman?”

“Uh, yeah.” Gabe forced a smile. “Fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Gabe nodded quickly. Decker turned to Rina. “See you in a few.”

“Take your time.”

Decker and his charge went outside into the cool misty air, neither of them speaking as they walked. The pathways looked different at night than they had in the daytime. With the artificial colored lighting slipped between the plantings, the entire complex looked surreal, like a movie set. Gabe twisted and turned from one garden to another until they came to the bungalow he shared with his mother. He opened the door, flipped on the light switch, and the two of them stepped inside.

“Just like I left it,” Gabe said.

And not too different from when Decker had left. The flowers that Chris had given Terry had been put into a vase and sat on the sofa table. Donatti’s Scotch glass lay in the sink of the bar. The trash had been cleared and the living-room sofa had been folded out into a bed, a room service breakfast menu and a few chocolates left on a silver tray. Water on the coffee table and music coming from a Bose stereo system, the station set on classical music.

“You sleep here?”

Gabe nodded.

Decker walked into the bedroom. Terry’s bed had also been prepared. “Were the beds turned down when you arrived here at around six?”