His colleagues were shouting questions down to him. He was no longer in their sight so they were concerned about his safety. They wanted to know if he was all right. They were admonishing him to be careful. He heard Worley ask if he’d found anything.

Tuning them out, he forgot his acrophobia and stared into the river far below him, where the water at this point was over forty feet deep. He looked at the slow-moving tanker, a floating city, now gliding past the restaurants and bars lining River Street and, on the far side, the docks at the Westin Resort.

His throat became uncommonly tight as he realized the implication of finding only one of Elise’s sandals and this scrap of fabric ripped from her clothing.

Chances were very good that she hadn’t made it off this goddamn bridge alive.

Chapter 18

JUDGE LAIRD PACED THE LIMITED SQUARE FOOTAGE OF THE SVU office, wearing a path in the ugly maroon carpeting and muttering affirmations to himself that his wife was alive. He also launched into periodic tirades about the sluggish pace and general ineptitude with which the police investigation was being conducted.

He demanded immediate answers to questions to which no one had answers. He refused to accept honest replies such as, “We don’t know, but we’re doing all we can to find out.”

Unfortunately DeeDee had been put in charge of him.

After cordoning off a larger section of the bridge to include the carrier and the ladder leading down to it, DeeDee had accompanied Bill Gerard and the judge back to police headquarters, while Duncan and Worley stayed behind to coordinate the investigation, which would involve several other law enforcement agencies.

She resented that they’d have all the fun, while she’d been assigned what amounted to baby-sitting duty. But Captain Gerard had issued the order, and he’d been in no mood for argument.

Actually she would have felt sorry for Judge Laird, had he not been such a total bastard. Rarely did he address a question directly to her. Any unsolicited conjecture or suggestion she made was ignored. He tolerated her, barely, and only because he must.

The Cato Lairds of the world, good ole boys that custom-tailored suits couldn’t disguise, underscored the insecurity that had been instilled in her by her parents, particularly her father. The judge’s disdain reduced her achievements to mediocrity and insignificance. He made her feel as her father had, like a tinfoil star trying to replace the solid-gold one her older brother had been.

It also had fallen to her to question the judge about his activities before being notified of Napoli’s murder in his wife’s car, and to ask what he knew of her activities during that same time period.

That was the shittiest aspect of this shit detail.

He was frenetic. He could sit still for only a few minutes at a stretch. He was easily distracted by anyone who came into or left the unit. Every time a telephone rang, which was often, his reflexes went into overdrive.

When she did manage to hold his attention, he either answered her questions with dramatized resignation or took umbrage, although she went out of her way to be tactful.

“When was the last time you saw Mrs. Laird?”

“About nine thirty or so. We’d had dinner. Elise wanted to turn in early. That being the case, I asked if she would mind if I went to the country club. A poker tournament had commenced last Saturday night. I knew some of my friends would be playing last night.”

“Given her insomnia, it’s unlike Mrs. Laird to go to bed early, isn’t it?”

“She’d bought a sleep aid that she hoped would help her rest.”

“Do you usually play poker on a work night, so to speak?”

“No, but we were both upset and needed something to take our minds off the interrogation that was scheduled for the morning.”

“Why was the prospect of that upsetting?”

“Detective Hatcher advised us to bring our attorney with us. He made it sound as though Elise was a criminal.”

“We had more questions about her relationship with Coleman Greer.”

“Elise gave you a full explanation of their relationship.”

For the time being, DeeDee let that pass and moved on. “Did you speak with Mrs. Laird by telephone, or have any contact with her, after you left the house yesterday evening?”

“No. In the hope that the sleep medication was working, I didn’t want to disturb her by calling.”

“I doubt she took that medication, Judge. We know she didn’t sleep.” She didn’t let his fulminating look prevent her from pressing on. “What was she wearing when you last saw her?”

“A skirt and sleeveless top. You know this, Detective Bowen. I recognized the scrap of fabric that your partner found on the carrier. It was from Elise’s skirt.”

“You’re sure? Most husbands wouldn’t notice or remember-”

“I’m not most husbands,” he said icily. “The skirt was new. I’d just brought it home to her as a gift. She had tried it on for me.”

“Did she have on the sandals with the turquoise stones?”

“She was barefoot.”

“For dinner?”

“We had dinner on trays in the bedroom.”

“I see. Mrs. Berry served you there?” He nodded. “What time did she leave?”

“I heard her tell Captain Gerard that she left around ten thirty.”

“After you, then.”

“Correct. She wanted to make certain that Elise didn’t need her.”

“Sometime after Mrs. Berry left, your wife put on her shoes and left the house in her car.”

“We don’t know the circumstances under which she left,” he said. “She could have been forced from the house.”

“Maybe, but according to Captain Gerard, who was at your house, there was no sign of a struggle, forced entry, nothing like that. We can rule out robbery because Gerard said you’d found her jewelry, wedding ring, and ear studs-sizable diamonds in both-on her dressing table.”

“That’s right.”

“So it looks like she dashed out in a hurry, doesn’t it? I mean, not even remembering to put on her wedding ring. And that’s a ring you wouldn’t likely leave behind unless you were really rattled.”

The judge stayed stonily silent, while DeeDee tapped her pencil against the legal pad on which she’d been jotting down notes. “Do you have any idea where your wife might have gone, Judge?”

“If I did, don’t you think I’d be looking for her there?”

“Does she have friends or family-”

“No.”

“Nobody she might have decided to go visit, even on the spur of the moment?”

He shook his head. “Not without telling me.”

She didn’t tell you about her visits with Coleman Greer, DeeDee thought peevishly. Tired of all the pussyfooting around, she cut to the chase. “Do you think she had an appointment with Meyer Napoli tonight?”

He leaned in close to her, his features rigid with rage. “Is this the way you solve crimes, Detective Bowen? You hound a victim’s loved ones with silly questions and draw asinine conclusions?”

Probably he didn’t expect an answer, but she gave him one. “Sometimes. You’d be surprised what witnesses know that they don’t know they know. I toss out possibilities to see if anything sticks. Often something does, and it can be that seemingly unimportant, silly fact that ultimately solves the case.”

He looked around impatiently as though searching for someone to come to his rescue. Gerard had disappeared; DeeDee assumed he was in his office. A few other detectives were milling around, trying to look busy, but actually drawn to the excitement as moths to a flame.

The judge said, “I know the importance of being thorough and precise, Detective Bowen. After all my years on the bench, I realize that crime-solving nuggets can be pried from the memory of a witness. But I know only what I’ve told you. Repeatedly,” he stressed.

She flipped back a sheet of the legal tablet so she would have a fresh page on which to take notes. “May I continue?”