They looked like FBI but were probably the private investigators the Simmers had hired.
Kevin, Kim, and the Simmers weren’t in the room.
Aubrey approached Detective Gonzalez. She looked more haggard than the day before, her black hair greasy and pulled back from her pale face.
“Do you have a minute?” Aubrey asked.
“Sure.” Gonzalez led Aubrey to a corner where they had some privacy.
“I was wondering about your reaction to the Coles’ attack on my mother. Could they have Ethan, and are hoping to misdirect the police?”
“We considered that possibility. I went to see them last night after the interview.”
“And?”
Gonzalez shook her head. “They admitted they had no basis for accusing your mother. They saw an opportunity to publicly hurt her, and they took it.”
“Yes, of course. But it shows their motive to kidnap Ethan.”
“We’ve already confirmed their alibis regarding their whereabouts when Ethan was taken. We’ve also had them under surveillance since the kidnapping. At this point, it’s unlikely they’re involved.”
“So you’re dropping them as suspects?”
“We’re not dropping anyone.” Her voice was a bit impatient, and Aubrey wondered whether she’d crossed a line by suggesting the police weren’t doing their job. “And I’m sure the Simmers will let us know if we missed anything,” Gonzalez added.
“What do you mean?” Aubrey asked.
“Their investigators are all over the Coles, despite their alibis.”
“They are?”
“Why does that surprise you?”
Aubrey glanced across the room at the Simmers’ investigators. They looked purposeful as they conversed with each other and pointed at their computer screens. “I would have expected the Simmers to find a reason to blame my mother, not her enemies.”
Gonzalez frowned, her thick eyebrows almost merging. Aubrey wondered whether the detective was able to read her thoughts. That the Simmers were leading the charge against the Coles, because they were hoping to deflect suspicion from themselves. But the possibility that the Simmers were behind Ethan’s kidnapping continued to baffle her, especially after seeing their genuine grief during the press conference.
“Whatever agenda the Simmers have,” Gonzalez said, “they’d better keep their people from interfering with the police investigation.” The detective seemed to stiffen. Aubrey followed her gaze. Prudence and Ernest had come in and were heading toward the back of the room. No Kevin or Kim.
The Simmers looked as tired and wilted as they had on TV the day before. Nothing like people who had kidnapped their own grandchild, but rather like devastated grandparents. Aubrey had seen them a handful of times since Kevin and Kim’s wedding, usually at one of Ethan’s birthday celebrations. Prudence had always been cool toward Aubrey, though never quite rude.
Rudeness was unbecoming to a Baer.
Ernest stopped to talk to one of the dark-suited men while Prudence took a seat at a long table and pulled a laptop from her tote bag.
“Excuse me,” Aubrey said to the detective. “I need to speak with them.”
She approached the Simmers, standing back a few feet so as not to appear to be eavesdropping. The man Ernest was talking to had his hand on his hip, revealing an ID of some sort. The familiar logo of BBM caught her by surprise. She’d thought these people were with a private security firm.
It occurred to her that the reward money and investigation wasn’t being financed by the Simmers’ personal funds, as she had assumed, but by Baer Business Machines. That was odd. Unless the Simmers believed the kidnappers were targeting BBM for some reason. She thought about the documentary she’d watched the night before and wondered whether there could be a connection between BBM and the brownstone explosion.
She stepped up to the Simmers’ table, hoping she’d be more effective getting information from Prudence than she had been with Smolleck.
Prudence frowned, as though trying to place her.
“Hello, Mrs. Simmer.” She had never been able to call her by her first name.
“Audrey,” Prudence said, accepting her hand. “How awful that we have to see each other again under such circumstances.”
“Yes, it is awful,” Aubrey said, deciding not to correct her name.
Prudence clung to Aubrey. The woman’s hand felt bony and cold. The red polish on her nails was partially chewed away.
“I wanted to tell you how much my mother and I appreciate your providing the reward money and private investigators.”
Prudence got a faraway look. An amoeba-shaped splotch of coffee stained her beige-silk blouse. “We’d give far more if we believed it would help us get Ethan back, but thank you.”
“It’s great that you have the resources of Baer Business Machines at your disposal.”
Prudence pulled her hand away from Aubrey’s. “We’re using all our resources to find Ethan.” Her voice was clipped.
“Yes, of course.” This was clearly not the best way to get information from Prudence. She needed to try something else. “Have your investigators found anything suspicious on the Coles?”
“Not yet,” Prudence said.
“The police say they have an alibi.”
“Alibis are easy to manufacture, dear.” Something across the room caught Prudence’s attention. “This is unacceptable,” she mumbled.
Aubrey turned to see her brother staggering across the room. His white-cotton shirt was wrinkled and untucked from his slacks. Kevin stopped and rubbed an unshaven cheek, seemingly mystified by the people busy trying to find his son.