MISSING

Chapter 7

"Did you get anything else from the CCTV?" Calleigh asked.

"Some." Frank pulled a few photos from a folder. "This from the Durango. Driver's fairly clear, and it looks very much like Rosso, the registered owner. His mate's looking behind them – can't see his face. And this, from Robbins' car. Going out – just him. And coming back, him and the same guy as before."

"No sign of the boy."

"In the back, most like…. Or the trunk." Then he corrected himself. "No, no father would put his kid in the trunk."

"No father would kill the boy's mother. You would hope… Are you going to interview him tonight?"

"Yeah, briefly. I'm missing my supper, so he can miss his. Then I'll put him in lock-up and let him stew for the night. Wanna stick around?"

Lee Robbins again vehemently protested his innocence.

"You checked me out! You know I didn't do it! Why aren't you looking for my boy?"

"Cut the crap, Robbins! You were seen."

"Seen?"

"Going towards the Everglades, in the middle of the night."

"I… couldn't sleep. I went for a drive. No law against that."

"Don't bet on it. And you picked up a friend or two on the way back?"

He shrugged. "Couple of guys were looking for a lift."

"Couple of guys, huh? No one you knew then?" Frank's face and voice showed only disbelief.

"Of course not."

"Do I look like I just fell off the Christmas tree? Who would pick up strangers, in the 'glades, at three in the morning? Try again, pal!"

Robbins hesitated. "I think I want a lawyer."

Frank chuckled. "I'll bet you do." He stood up suddenly. "Tell you what, you can enjoy the County's hospitality for the night. Tomorrow we'll give you breakfast, get you a nice public defender, mirandize you, the whole nine yards. How's that sound?"

As Lee Robbins was led out, Calleigh said quietly, "That was sudden."

"Well, I can't interview him once he's asked for counsel, and it'll take time to get a lawyer at this time of night. Better to leave him to think about it overnight. It's been a long day, and I'm too damn' hungry to spend an evening on that scumbag."

"What about the boy? Timmy?"

"I'll bet he's somewhere safe. That was the whole point, wasn't it? The father wanted the child?"

"He could be on his own, at the father's house."

"Give me some credit, Cal – we looked. He lives in one room – no hiding place. I don't know where he is at the moment, but we'll find him."

"Sorry, Frank. As you said, it's been a long day. I suppose he could still be with Rosso."

"And he's not home. We've been watching. You know, there are things that don't add up here – where does a janitor, living in a single room, get the money to hire someone to kidnap his child? Why didn't he just do it himself?"

"Maybe he didn't have access. We could check for restraining orders and such."

"We could. Just because he said it was all hunky-dory…" Frank sighed. "It's going to have to wait till tomorrow. Fancy getting something to eat? You can tell me about Horatio."

They sat in a nearby diner, eating in silence, while the stresses of the day caught up with them both.

"That's better," Frank murmured at last, wiping his mouth on a paper napkin. "What a goddam awful day! Sorry, Cal…"

"S'okay. I agree."

"So tell me about Horatio. Last I saw, he was being put in a helicopter, more dead than alive. Is Delko with him?"

"He won't leave him. If he did, he'd be no use to us – he's completely taken up with Horatio… who is doing okay, by the way." She recounted what she had learned at the hospital. "They say he could have organ damage, they don't know yet. And he's still unconscious. So okay, but not that okay."

"At least he's alive. I can say it now – when I saw him, I didn't think he'd make it."

"I don't know how he did."

"No doubt he'll tell us when he wakes up."

"If he remembers."

The following morning, Frank and Calleigh faced Lee Robbins in an interrogation room. And his lawyer.

"Did you have a good night, Lee?" Frank began.

"No comment."

"Oh hell, we're going down the 'no comment' route, are we?" Frank sighed. "Well, let me tell you what we've got. We have a sighting of you going into the 'glades at three in the morning, and coming back forty minutes later with passengers."

"I told you…"

"Wait, I'm talking. We've identified one of your passengers as a man seen driving past your house the day before your wife was murdered, a man who tried to outrun police and wrecked his car in the process. A man who left evidence that he was involved in that murder. Then, by coincidence, when he needs a lift, you just happen along."

"As you said, coincidence."

"Don't have too much faith in them," Frank said. "What I think is, for whatever reason, you wanted to grab your son. Presumably your wife objected. You persuaded, hired, whatever, these two bozos to do it, and your poor wife got in the way…"

"Is that all you've got, detective?" the lawyer said. "In that case…"

Frank turned to look at him. "Far be it from me to advise you, but we know your client didn't actually commit the crime. He could help himself by coming clean. Oh, and I've got one other thing. A warrant for your client's person, home and car. So I think lock-up's the best place for him, while we search, don't you? Do you want to give up the keys, or shall we just break the door down?"

Robbins shrugged and tossed the keys across the table.

"Oh, and your cell phone."

Calleigh thought she saw a flicker of alarm cross the man's face before he complied.

"I'll have you out this afternoon," the lawyer murmured confidently.

As they left, Calleigh murmured. "We really haven't got much. But he looked worried when you mentioned cell phone."

"I saw that."

"I'll give the phone to Dave, and help you with the searches. If that's okay…"

"Of course it's okay, Calleigh."

Lee Robbins' single room wasn't so much untidy as squalidly filthy. An unmade bed, dirty clothes, dirty plates, a blackened and greasy electric ring – the only cooking facility, empty fast food boxes, a rancid carton of milk.

"Jeez!" Frank muttered. "What a way to live! You'd think a janitor would clean up a bit. Where to start?"

"There's not even a phone here. Communal one in the lobby, I guess. Communal bathroom too, I imagine."

"No point in forensics anyway. We've got trace from Rosso and his pal already, if they've ever been here, which I doubt. And if there's trace of the boy… well, he is his son… So just a quick look round, and hope the car gives us more."

They were grateful for their latex gloves as the searched the place. They found very little, except for some papers from a solicitor.

Calleigh glanced through them. "Divorce papers… She didn't think they were getting back together. And he did have access trouble…"

"Living here, it doesn't surprise me. I wouldn't bring a dog in here." Frank slammed a closet door. "Come on, let's see if the car's more informative."

They took swabs from various areas of the ancient Chevy. "Should be able to prove who was in here," Calleigh said. "There's mud, hair, a blood smear…"

"Where's the blood?"

"Back seat. I don't know, Frank. I feel we're going round in circles. Or rather, we know everything, but can't prove anything."

"We don't know everything. We don't know the identity of the second man."

"What's your instinct, Frank?"

"That Robbins is out of his depth. And that, whatever the plan started out as, it pretty soon went tits up."

"So you think you can crack Robbins?"

"Either that, or his cell phone will reveal all."

"You're hopeful."

"Born optimist, Cal. Have to be."

TBC