* * * *
According to the file, Stephanie Donovan had entered the offices of the Warren Corporation, a property management company, at 2:25 pm yesterday. She identified herself as a journalist and asked to speak to Mr. George Amadi, an agent handling business rentals in the north-east sector. When told that Mr. Amadi was not available, Miss. Donovan asked if there was a break room where she could get some refreshments before leaving. Miss. Donovan left the break room and went directly to Mr. Amadi's vacant office which she entered by unknown means. Mr. Amadi discovered Miss. Donovan sitting at his desk 10 minutes later when he returned from a meeting. She had attached a zip drive to his computer and was downloading files. A brief confrontation ensued during which Miss. Donovan tossed a decorative vase at Mr. Amadi, striking him in the chest and knocking him down. She then ran out of the Mr. Amadi's office with the zip drive. Upon exiting the building, Miss. Donovan got into her car and began to pull away. Mr. Amadi had sufficiently recovered from the earlier assault to follow her and tried to prevent her from leaving. Miss. Donovan struck him with her car, again knocking him down. She then hit a parked car, and fled the scene.
"That doesn't sound so bad," Jane said.
"Unless you're George Amadi," Rigsby said. "Was it his car she hit?"
Jane consulted the file. "It was," he replied.
"Sounds like he has reason to press charges," said Rigsby.
"There's no reason to be so judgmental," Jane told him.
"Are you going to be impartial about this?" Rigsby asked.
Jane was offended. "I'm always impartial," he said.
"This Donovan woman is a friend of yours."
"I wouldn't say friend," protested Jane. "Acquaintance."
"The two of you spent a few hours being held hostage in a basement by a lunatic."
"Yes," Jane agreed.
Rigsby looked at him. "Wouldn't that imply a familiarity beyond mere acquaintance?"
"Why?"
"Stockholm syndrome," answered Rigsby.
"Ah," said Jane. "That applies to the relationship between the hostage taker and the hostages."
"Surviving a traumatic experience together usually results in some form of bonding," Rigsby insisted.
"I'm glad we both survived," replied Jane. "I'm also glad that our captor survived. I bear no animosity toward him because he was mentally ill. I feel no particular bond as you call it to Miss. Donovan other than a general interest in her wellbeing and a curiosity as to the situation she has involved herself in that causes us as law enforcement personnel to have to transport her as a suspect in a crime."
"Right," said Rigsby.
Jane suddenly became excited. "Pull over!" he said. "Stop the car!"
"What's wrong," demanded Rigsby, applying the brakes.
Jane smiled and pointed to a shop just ahead. "Doughnuts!"
* * * *
The remainder of the ride to Portland in the CBI's black SUV was uneventful except for the hour long soliloquy launched into by Jane while on a Krispy Kreme and Diet Coke induced high on the importance of noticing pulse rate and pupil dilation during a hand shake, which Rigsby distracted himself from by reciting in his mind the menus of several of his favorite restaurants.
* * * *
At the Portland police station Rigsby filled out the necessary paperwork while Jane studied the wanted posters. He made no effort to conceal his pleasure at seeing Stephanie again when she was escorted from the holding cell in handcuffs. Jane noted, but did not remark upon her rugged attire – hiking boots, jeans, sweater and jacket, that she still wore her class ring, she was slightly favoring her left ankle, her new shoulder-length hairstyle the perfectly suited her, or the fact that her green sweater exactly matched the color of her eyes. Instead, he merely smiled and said, "Hi."
"Hello again," Stephanie said. She didn't seem to be all that concerned at being arrested.
The officer who escorted her was carrying a large clear plastic bag marked "Evidence". Jane took the bag and examined the contents: a small overnight bag, a mini-tape recorder, a cell phone, a lap top computer and a gun. Jane looked at Stephanie. She shrugged.
* * * *
Once outside, Jane pointed to Stephanie's handcuffs and said to Rigsby, "You're seriously going to keep those on her?"
"Seriously, I am," said Rigsby, opening the back door and gesturing for Stephanie to get in.
"Why?" Jane asked.
"Because she's a prisoner," said Rigsby.
"It's alright," Stephanie said. She climbed into the back seat with Rigsby's assistance and settled in. Jane tried to reach around Rigsby to give the plastic bag of her belongings to Stephanie. Rigsby stopped him.
"That's evidence," he said. "Goes in the back." Rigsby fastened Stephanie's seatbelt and ignored Jane's glare as he shut Stephanie's door. The two men walked to the back of the SUV where Rigsby opened the back hatch. He motioned for Jane to put the bag in. Jane hesitated.
"There might be something she needs in here," he said.
"Like the gun?" said Rigsby.
"No," said Jane, "personal things."
"It's all evidence," said Rigsby. "Put it in the back."
Jane carefully placed the bag in the back of the SUV, trying to arrange it nicely, but had to move quickly aside when Rigsby slammed the door down. Rigsby was mildly alarmed when Jane followed him around to the driver's side of the car, but there was no attack – Jane merely got in the back seat on the left side.
Rigsby put on his seatbelt and said, "You are aware, Miss. Donovan, that the Miranda Rights you were read by the Portland police department are still in effect and that anything you say can be used as evidence against you?"
"I am aware," Stephanie said.
"So what happened?" Jane asked her.
"It was all a big misunderstanding," she said.
"See," Jane said to Rigsby. Rigsby ignored him and started the car.
"Are you comfortable?" Jane asked Stephanie.
"Relatively," she said.
"Do you want anything to eat? To drink? Do you need to use the restroom?"
Rigsby pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. "Should have thought of that before we left," he said.
Stephanie smiled. "I'm fine," she said. "So, Patrick, you're still consulting?"
"Yes," said Jane. "And you're still writing?"
"Yes," said Stephanie.
"But not for The Truthfinder…"
Stephanie looked out the window.
"Stephanie," Jane said reproachfully.
"Any port in a storm," she said. "But I'm using my own name. Benson does his own work now – strictly the gossip stuff. I still cover UFOs and Bigfoot, but I am working on something serious now on the side."
Jane brightened. "What?"
"Well, it sort of has to do with why I'm here." She rolled her eyes.
"Oh," he said. "You probably shouldn't…"
"No, I probably shouldn't," she agreed.
They rode in silence for a few minutes. Rigsby kept watching them in his rearview mirror.
"You look well," Jane said.
"Thanks," Stephanie said. "I'm doing alright."
"No complications?"
"None," she said. "It takes more than a bullet to stop me," she laughed. "I thought I'd get to see you at the trial… but no trial."
"No," agreed Jane. "Both Steve and Gary were sent directly to psych lock up."
Stephanie nodded. "I'm sure that's for the best," she said.
"I'm sure it is," said Jane.
This is going to be the most boring trip ever, thought Rigsby.
"Wanna see my scar?" asked Stephanie.
"Sure," said Patrick.
"You'll have to open my blouse…"
"No," Rigsby said quickly.
"Not the best idea," said Patrick.
"No," Stephanie agreed. "It's cool though. Just a pink dot, really, and there's a matching one on the back since it went straight through…"
"No kidding?" said Patrick.
"The one on the back's a bit bigger."
"So what did you take from George Amadi's computer?" Jane asked abruptly.
Stephanie shook her head. "I thought we agreed we wouldn't talk about that."
"We agreed it wouldn't be a good idea," said Jane. "But we've got a long ride ahead of us and if you haven't done anything wrong then we can clear the air and you can be released when we get back to Sacramento instead of wasting time in the interrogation room."
"I'm a journalist," Stephanie said. "I don't have to reveal my source."
"We're not asking you to reveal your source," Rigsby said. "We're asking you why you stole his computer and then tried to kill him."
"If she wanted to kill George Amadi she would have shot him," said Jane. He looked at Stephanie for agreement. "Right?"
"Right," she said.
"You went to his office to talk to him, right?"
"I don't have to tell you anything," Stephanie said.
"You wanted to confront him about some shady real estate dealings and when he wasn't there you decided download his files so you could ferret out the details yourself, right?"
"Your Jedi powers won't work on me, Obi Wan," Stephanie said to Jane. "I'm pleading the Fifth."
Rigsby stifled a snicker and watched for Jane's reaction in the rear-view mirror. Jane merely smiled at Stephanie and she smiled back.
* * * *