"Uhm, Mrs. Dance. This's Trish Martin."
The daughter of Michelle Cooper, the woman killed in Solitude Creek.
"Yes, Trish. Hi." She glanced toward O'Neil. "How're you doing?"
"Not so great. You know."
"I'm sure it's difficult."
Thinking back to the days after Bill had died.
Not so great... Never so great.
"I heard, I mean, I was watching the news and they said he tried to do it again."
"It's looking that way, yes."
There was a long silence. "You wanted to talk to me?"
"Just to ask what you saw that night."
"Okay. I want to help. I want to help you get him. Fucker."
"I'd appreciate that."
"I can't talk here. My father'll be back soon. I'm at my mother's house. He'll be back and he doesn't want me to talk to you. Well, to anybody."
"You're in Pebble Beach, right?"
"Yeah."
"You drive?"
"Uh-huh."
"Meet me at the Bagel Bakery on Forest. You know it?"
"Sure I have to go he's coming back bye." Spoken in one breath.
Click.
Chapter 28
She'd been crying.
Dance gave her credit for not trying to hide it. No makeup, no averted eyes. Tears and streaks present.
Trish Martin was sitting in the corner of the Bagel Bakery, toward the back, under a primitive but affecting acrylic painting of a dog carefully regarding a turtle. It was one of a dozen for sale on the walls, this batch by students, a card reported. Dance and the children came here regularly and she'd bought a few of the works from time to time. She really liked the dog and turtle.
"Hi."
"Hey," the girl said.
"How you doing?"
"Okay."
"What do you want? I'll get it."