For the first time, I actually feel as if there’s a ray of hope. I’m afraid to ask Gabriel what Josh said, for fear that he’ll dash it.
Gabriel offers it up without my prompt. “He admitted to the affair, but says he had no idea what happened to your sister. In fact, he claims he didn’t even know she was missing.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I don’t believe anyone. You know that.”
“Can I see him?”
“That’s why I called you. You should get down here as fast as you can.”
Detectives work in two shifts. The first team starts the day at 8:00 a.m. and goes home at 4:00 p.m. The second team arrives at 4:00 p.m. and stays until 1:00 a.m. For my sister’s case, and Jennifer Barnett’s too, for that matter, everyone is pulling doubles.
That means that the squad room at One PP is fully staffed even though it’s near midnight by the time I arrive. Jim McCorry is tasked with retrieving me from the security guard downstairs. Meant as a tacit reminder, perhaps, about Paul’s lack of cooperation regarding Jennifer Barnett.
“It’s an all-hands situation upstairs,” Detective McCorry says. “Not only are all of our guys here, but we’ve pulled a team from Domestic Violence and Homicide. Also, two detectives from BRAM.”
I speak most of the police lingo, but BRAM is a new one. “What’s that?”
“BRAM? Oh, Burglary, Robbery, Apprehension Module. There are two more detectives working who are pitching in on your sister’s case that are also on the Barnett investigation. The last thing anyone here wants is for either case to go to Missing Persons.”
In New York City, a missing-persons case is handled by the local precinct for the first seven days. If you’ve got a little more pull—as my father and I do, and apparently Jennifer Barnett’s family as well—you get a top team like Gabriel’s to handle it, with the local precinct providing backup. It doesn’t go to Missing Persons until seven days have been exhausted, at which time it’s generally considered unsolvable.
Detective McCorry brings me into Gabriel’s office. To my surprise, it’s empty.
“Where’s Gabriel?” I ask.
“He’s in with the witness.”
“He wanted me to join him.”
“No. He wanted you to watch. He told me to tell you that he’ll be in shortly to discuss the interrogation with you.”
Of course, that was right. I’m no longer an ADA. I’m the victim’s sister. I’m not going to get within twenty feet of Josh Walden while he’s in police custody.
Detective McCorry leans over to the computer terminal on Gabriel’s desk and turns the monitor so it faces me. A few keystrokes later, I have a window into the interrogation room.
The picture is hardly high definition, but it’s in color at least. The camera is overhead, making the angle of the shot downward.
My first reaction to seeing Josh Walden is that he does not remotely look like Charlotte’s type. I always go for the straight arrows but she has a thing for the bad boys, forever drawn to dark souls in the unyielding belief that her light can save them. But Josh makes even the guys I dated look like rebels. He couldn’t be more vanilla if he tried.
He’s rail thin, as if he still hasn’t finished filling out yet. His hair is sandy brown, short, neatly parted on the side. Even though it’s near midnight, he doesn’t appear to have the slightest stubble on his chin. His eyes are blue, and he’s dressed in a white polo shirt and khakis, like he’s just stepped out of the J. Crew catalog.
His leg bounces up and down with nervous energy. But he doesn’t have any of the shifty-eyed look of the liars I’ve seen. Then again, the best liars betray no tells.
Gabriel must have received some notification that we were listening in, because he says, “Let’s recap where we are here, Mr. Walden. Tell me if I have any of this wrong, because it’s very important to me that I understand exactly what you’re telling me. First, you admit that you had a relationship with Charlotte Broden.”
Gabriel stops, obviously expecting Josh to confirm this part. Josh, however, looks at him like a deer caught in headlights.
“That’s right, isn’t it? For the last two months, you’ve been having a sexual relationship with Charlotte Broden?”
“Yes,” Josh says.
His voice is squeaky. Yet another reason for me to wonder how Charlotte ended up in bed with this guy.
“And you had no knowledge that Charlotte was seeing other people. Is that also correct?”
“I still don’t,” he says. “I just know you told me she had a boyfriend. I thought I was her boyfriend.”
At least to my ear, it doesn’t sound like backtalk. Josh Walden actually believes that Charlotte has been faithful to him and that the police investigating her disappearance are lying when they tell him otherwise. I could see the fictional Jason reacting the exact same way.
“And the last time you saw Charlotte was on Monday of this week . . . four days ago?”
“Right. Monday night.”
“And that was also the last time you spoke with her?”
Josh nods.
“Please answer audibly, Mr. Walden.”
“Yes. I sent her some texts after that and tried her cell two or three times, but she didn’t respond.”
“And you have absolutely no idea what happened to her?”
“None.”
Gabriel stands and walks to the corner of the room. Then he looks directly into the camera. It’s as if he’s asking me, What do you think?
The truth is that I don’t know what to think. None of it makes any sense. If Josh doesn’t much look like the kind of guy Charlotte would have sex with, he certainly doesn’t give off the vibe of being the kind of guy who would kill her and then dispose of her body. But looks are a notoriously fallible indicator of guilt. Everyone said Jeffrey Dahmer seemed mild-mannered too.
Gabriel resumes his seat, this time turning the chair so he’s facing the back, sitting in the wrong direction, but staring right at Josh. It looks to me like Gabriel isn’t buying anything Josh is selling.
“Here’s the thing. I believe you,” Gabriel says, as sincere as I’ve heard those words sound. “I really do. But it’s department protocol that we can’t clear a suspect unless we check off some boxes. That includes getting your permission to allow us to fingerprint you, and for you to give us a swab of DNA. We’d also like to search your apartment, examine your computer and your phone, and administer a polygraph. We can do it all within the hour. If it all checks out, you’re in the clear.”
This is the moment of truth. Will Josh decline, showing that he probably has something to hide, or continue to be an open book?
15.
The NYPD’s polygraph administrator, a guy named David Samuels, doesn’t answer his phone. That isn’t too surprising given the late hour.