“He hired me. Outside of that, I’ve had little interaction with him. We’ve met once or twice at fund-raisers.”
“When you made your move to DPC, you didn’t bring any information with you that might be of use to your new boss?”
“I’m offended by the suggestion.”
Cohen’s eyes met hers. “So, did you?”
“No.”
“What is your impression of Hiram?”
“My impression? What does that have to do with anything?” Stern worried the ring again. “Is he somehow a suspect in this?”
“That upsets you,” Cohen said.
“What upsets me is this waste of time while that little girl is still out there.”
“Bear with us. What do you know about Hiram Davenport?”
She shrugged. “I know he’s a railroad man, through and through. And I know he is passionate about art and is willing to put money into sharing that love with others. I know from Sam that, as a grandfather, he’s big on gifts, less so on family events. Anything else comes from what I read in the papers.”
Bandoni heaved himself off the wall, walked around the table, and splayed his hands on the metal surface, leaning in. “Oh, enough of this bullshit. Where is she?”
“If you’re asking about Lucy, I don’t know.”
“You slept with Ben Davenport. You murdered his wife and sons.” He was in her face now, shouting. “His daughter’s bloody clothing was found in your car. What have you done with her?”
Stern didn’t retreat. Her eyes flashed and sudden anger blotched her neck and cheeks. “I don’t care what you think, or who you are, or what game you’re trying to play to get me to confess to something I am innocent of. But that little girl is out there, no doubt suffering, and you are wasting time with me. I did not sleep with Ben Davenport. I did not—as you so crudely suggested—sleep with his wife. I did not hurt either them or their children. If you want to save Lucy Davenport, then for God’s sake, put your energy where it might make a difference.”
Silence in both rooms. Then someone in the observation room said, “That was righteous.”
Bandoni stayed right where he was, his face still inches from Stern’s. “I’ve seen the best liars the world has to offer, Ms. Stern. And you aren’t anywhere near their league.”
Cohen glanced at his phone. He passed it to Bandoni, who straightened and read whatever was on the screen. The detectives exchanged a look; Bandoni looked like he’d swallowed pins.
In the viewing room someone said, “They got the precipitin results. It’s animal blood.”
A murmur ran around the room. My knees sagged and I squeezed my hands together as relief spilled through me.
“Congratulations,” Bandoni said to Stern. “It ain’t Lucy’s blood.”
“I cannot pretend to be shocked by that.” She shifted in her chair and crossed her ankles. “Perhaps you ought to be asking yourself who would want to frame me. You have yet to tell me who implicated me in this. Or what you’re doing to locate him. Or her.”
“You have some names?” Cohen asked. “People who might want to hurt you? Outside of your cases, I mean.”
“I—no.”
“People who might be jealous of your attention to Ben Davenport?”
“I didn’t pay any attention to Ben.”
“Someone at work with a grudge? Either at SFCO or DPC?”
She turned the ring again. “Popularity has never been my goal, but it is also true that no one has any complaints.”
“What about would-be boyfriends? Someone particularly insistent?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Zach Vander,” Bandoni said. “Can you handle him?”
Her eyes flashed hatred at him. “How do you—”
“You filed a restraining order against him. Did you think we wouldn’t find out?”
She shook her head. “He was nothing but a nuisance. A railfan who overstepped.”
“A what?”
“A train buff,” Stern said. “I met him at a convention in Pennsylvania where I’d been asked to speak about crossing accidents. That was five months ago. For three months after that, he wouldn’t leave me alone.”
Bandoni threw up his hands. “Why didn’t you bring him up twenty minutes ago?”
“Because I didn’t even think of him. He moved away a long time ago. He’s been out of my life.”
“How was he a nuisance?” Cohen asked.
“He called me repeatedly at home and work. Sent e-mails. Photographs. I never took his calls or responded. But his messages were . . . rude.”
“Rude in what way?”
“Sexual. Suggestive. That’s why I called the police.”
Bandoni kept at her. “What were the photographs of?”
“Me.”
“Was he violent?”
“Only if you’re opposed to sadism.”
“What happened after you called the police?”
“An officer agreed to speak with him, based on his persistence and the level of distress he caused me. Two days later, the court issued a restraining order against Vander, barring him from contacting me or approaching within a hundred feet of me or my property. The officer told me Vander had agreed to stop all communication.”
“And did he?”
“I’ve heard nothing from him since. A month ago, I looked him up online. He’d moved to Florida.”
“Sadism,” Bandoni said. “That sounds extreme.”
“Locker room talk is how Vander referred to it. He told me I should be flattered, not offended.” Stern sank back in her chair. The heat from her earlier outburst had faded; she looked drained.
“Are we done?” she asked.
“Just one final thing.” Cohen pulled a second picture from his folder and set it on the table. It was an enlargement of the photo I’d taken of the dead man, shortly before the bomb went off.
Stern leaned forward, then jerked back.
“Sorry to have to show you this, Ms. Stern,” Cohen said. “But we’re trying to determine his identity. Have you seen him before?”
She shook her head, her hand over her mouth.
“Judging by your reaction, you know him.”
She shook her head again. She’d gone a bad color.
“You think he looks bad here?” Bandoni pressed. “You should see him now. Parts everywhere. We’re trying to identify him off one of the larger pieces. His thumb.”
She sucked in air. “I’m going to be sick.”
“We don’t mind,” Bandoni said. “We get that in here all the time.”
Stern gave a low moan. I didn’t know Bandoni could move so fast. He whipped out a paper bag from somewhere and shoved it into her hand. She did as she had promised and vomited.
Cohen left the room, came back with a damp paper towel and a glass of water. Stern wiped her mouth, drank the water.
“So you know him?” Bandoni asked.
She shook her head.
“You expect us to believe that? You all pale and throwing up?”
But Stern had regained her composure. “You show me a photo of a dead man and then act surprised when I’m affected?” She pushed back her chair, surged to her feet. Her suit jacket swirled around her in elegant pleats. “I’ve had enough. You want to ask any more questions, charge me, and then you can talk to my lawyer. And I’d like my car back.”
“Your car will take a day or two, I’m afraid,” Cohen said. “We’ll notify you when it’s available.”