Little Girl Gone (An Afton Tangler Thriller #1)(47)

“Okay,” Max said. “Tell me about Jilly Hudson.”

“Detective,” Slocum sighed. “I hardly think this is relevant. Unless my client is a suspect, this line of questioning is completely inappropriate. Mr. Darden is a victim here and you’re attempting to compound his misery with a foolhardy line of questioning.”

“Not at all,” Max said. “But I’ve been sitting here, listening to you scrutinize every question I’ve asked. We have a missing child and time is running out. So unless you want to prolong this session, I suggest the two of you start answering my questions.”

“No,” Slocum said. “We simply can’t go there.”

Max shuffled a stack of papers. “It would be unfortunate if some of the local TV stations sniffed out this information on their own. This kind of shit happens, you know? They’ve got that relentless twenty-four-hour news monster to feed.”

“Don’t you threaten us!” Slocum said.

Max kept right on going. “The six o’clock news might even lead off with a picture of the lovely Jilly Hudson with a juicy story about how your poor, innocent client happened to be banging the nanny.”

“Stop it,” Darden said. He looked miserable.

“And how long do you think Synthotech will keep your client on staff when that shit storm starts to fly?” Max leaned back. “No, I think Richard better start explaining himself.” He stared stolidly at Slocum and then at Darden.

“He’s bluffing, Richard. I advise you not to answer,” Slocum said.

Max flipped a hand. “Up to you, Richard. Ball’s in your court.”

Darden broke. “It was just a thing, okay? It didn’t mean anything. It was just . . . convenient.”

“Richard,” Slocum said. “I have to insist—”

“Shut up!” Darden hollered. “I’ve lost my child, I’m losing my marriage, do you want me to lose my job, too?”

Slocum sighed and set his mouth in a grim line.

“What?” Darden said, staring at Max. He sensed there was more to come.

He was right.

“Did you ever hear of new baby syndrome?” Max asked. “The baby arrives and suddenly Daddy isn’t getting his REM sleep anymore. He gets tired and cranky, starts to resent all the bottle feedings and diaper duty. Then you’ve got people dropping in all the time to see the new baby, so it’s no longer all about you. Finally, the house smells like poop from all the diapers, wifey is chronically exhausted and doesn’t have time for her husband anymore, and the alpha male in the house has been permanently dethroned. Hell, it’s almost justifiable when you think about it . . .”

Richard hung his head. “It wasn’t like that. I love Elizabeth Ann. And Susan, too.”

“Sure you do,” Max said. “That’s why you found yourself a new squeeze who was younger, cuter, and—”

“Where exactly are you going with this?” Darden demanded.

“That maybe you got rid of the kid yourself,” Max said.

“What?” Darden’s face drained of all color and he practically choked on his own tongue. “Are you serious?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time something like this has happened,” Max said.

“I wouldn’t do that!” Darden blustered. “I couldn’t do that. My wife and I were at the Edina Country Club with two hundred other people eating rubber chicken and drinking wine that probably came in a cardboard box on the night Elizabeth Ann was kidnapped. Why, I could give you the names of fifty people I talked to that night.”

“I have no doubt you can,” Max said. “You’re a very smart man, Mr. Darden. And your bank account has more commas than a James Joyce novel.”

“So then . . .” Darden began.

“You could have hired kidnappers,” Max said.

“What do you think?” Darden said. “That I went on Craigslist so I could steal my own child? Be serious!”

Max lifted a shoulder. “You could have hired this guy Al.”

Darden placed both hands flat on the table and stared earnestly into Max’s eyes. “No,” he said. “I didn’t mastermind this kidnapping. You have to believe me.”

“I want to,” Max said. “I really do.”


*

AFTON watched Max with open admiration. He was doing a masterful job. Drawing Darden out, cutting off Slocum, asking the tough questions. She was actually taking notes, writing down his sly techniques that . . .

The door to her darkened room suddenly flew open. Thacker and three of the FBI guys, Keith Sunder, Harvey Bagin, and Don Jasper, walked in. Silently, like shadows, they took their places along the window.

“How’s he doing?” Jasper whispered.

Afton wasn’t sure whether he meant Max or Darden, so she said, “They identified the handyman and just finished a discussion regarding the girlfriend.”

“How’d all that go?” Thacker asked.

“Not very well for Darden,” Afton said.

Jasper nudged Keith Sunder. “You want to go in there and make a move? Like we talked about?”

Sunder nodded. “Sure.”

“What move?” Afton asked after Sunder had left.

“Just watch,” Jasper said.