In Her Tracks (Tracy Crosswhite #8)(63)

“Great. Is there some new information to warrant it, or do you just believe the husband of the crazy wife must be guilty?”

“Are you?”

He smiled, though not with humor. “The husband of the crazy wife? Yes. The husband who killed his daughter? Absolutely not.” He sighed. “If there’ve been no new developments, why are you here, Detective?” Chin’s tone clearly indicated displeasure. Tracy did what she always did; she used it.

“Does it upset you to talk about it?”

Chin gave a sarcastic chuckle. “Of course it upsets me. That day . . . those days, were the worst days of my life. I spent countless hours over countless weeks searching for Elle. I’ve never accepted she was gone. That’s why I keep her picture here. I see her every day as I remember her. But . . .” He caught himself, looked away, and sucked in a breath. “I had to move on, Detective. We don’t really have much of a choice, do we?” He glanced at the photographs on the shelves.

No, we don’t, Tracy thought, but didn’t say. “You’ve remarried.”

Chin nodded. “And we have a little boy. And I miss my daughter every day. What else can I help you with? Do you want to ask what kind of an idiot would allow his five-year-old to play hide-and-seek in a corn maze? I’ve been asked and answered those questions a hundred times.”

Since Chin had raised the painful issue, better to just rip off the Band-Aid in one swipe. “So what’s the answer? Why did you?”

“Because I wasn’t thinking clearly. I hadn’t been thinking clearly for some time. Jewel screwed with my head. I know it’s hard for everyone to understand. It’s hard for me to explain, but it’s true. I wasn’t thinking like a parent. I was thinking like a pissed-off husband trying to curry favor with his five-year-old daughter whom he got to see Wednesday evenings and every other weekend.” He rested his forearms on his desk pad. “My time with Elle was limited because of certain circumstances.”

“The domestic violence charge?”

“I’m not proud of it, Detective. It happened. It’s not exactly something to strive for, having your work colleagues come out to the house and ask you to leave, the last time in handcuffs. It’s not like me. Wasn’t like me.”

“Why did you do it?” Tracy asked, knowing men often excused their behavior by blaming others.

“Like I said, I wasn’t thinking right. Jewel baited me and I took the bait. But it was on me and I own it. It was wrong, and I regretted it the minute I slapped her. I knew she would use it to hurt me.”

“Not sorry because you hit her?”

Chin sighed. “Of course I regretted hitting her.” He sat back. “My ex-wife was sick, Detective, and I paid the price.”

“Sick how?”

“It’s in the reports, Detective.”

“I haven’t read the entire file. I just started a couple days ago,” Tracy said, feigning ignorance. She had read the file but didn’t recall a report that Jewel was mentally ill.

Chin smiled. “I doubt that. You’ve been in homicide for more than a decade and have the highest success percentage of any detective. You’re also twice decorated. The Medal of Valor. Impressive.”

“You researched me.”

“As you researched me,” Chin said. “I still have friends in the North Precinct.”

“Bill Miller?”

“No. Though I know who he is. You were pretty famous for catching the Cowboy. So, don’t tell me you didn’t read the file. I’m sure you read every word of it. Maybe talked to others besides Pete. Maybe my ex. You’re trying to see what kind of guy I am. Whether I could get angry enough to kill my own daughter.”

“Tell me about that night,” Tracy said.

Chin took a moment, perhaps deciding where to start. He blew out a breath. “As I said, my time with Elle was extremely limited, and my wife did everything she could to undermine what time I did have with Elle. So, when I got Elle, I tended to spoil her. I just wanted her to be happy, Detective. I felt tremendous guilt leaving her in that house, with Jewel and the boyfriend. I loved that little girl and she loved me.” Chin wiped a tear from his eye. “Elle wanted to play hide-and-seek. I initially said no, but she started to cry.” His eyes welled with tears. “She said her mommy and Graham—the boyfriend—let her play. Then she sat down in the dirt. I didn’t want her to cry. I just wanted her to be happy. So, I let her play. I figured she wouldn’t get far.” He shook his head. “Then the lights went out. It was pitch-black.” Chin blew out another breath.

Tracy gave him a second, then switched subjects. “Tell me about your wife’s illness.”

Chin exhaled and sat back. “There was never a diagnosis, okay? Never a court determination. We didn’t get that far. Borderline personality disorder is the term that came up most often in my own counseling sessions following my daughter’s disappearance to describe my wife’s behavior and how I might deal with it.”

“What behavior in particular?”

“My ex separated me from my friends and tried to separate me from my family. She isolated me. I didn’t know it at the time, but looking back, that’s exactly what she did. She didn’t like my college friends because they were immature, and she didn’t like my high school friends because she thought they were spoiled and entitled. She didn’t like my parents because they were too judgmental. Then she started to use Elle to get what she wanted. She used everybody to get what she wanted. Me. Elle. Her new boyfriend. She used us until we were no longer of any use, or in my case, when I finally figured out how unhealthy our relationship was, and I left her. That’s when she attacked.”