Five Days in Summer

back of Will Parker’s business card; his thick forefinger carefully pressed one button at a time before referring back to the card. When he was through, he flashed her a smile and winked.
    “Will!”
    Amy watched unease spread through Geary’s expression as he listened. “Why the hospital?” He paused. “We wanted to see you today —” Another pause, but this time the spirit sprung back into his face. “The cops we, that’s who. They’re hiring me, son of a gun, so now I’m working for you on the taxpayer’s buck!”
    He laughed quietly to himself as he flipped shut the phone, though Amy knew his amusement was mostly for her benefit.
    “What’s going on?”
    Geary turned to her and spoke seriously for a change. “His baby girl’s in the hospital.”
    “Why?”
    “Just an ear infection that got out of hand. It’s not about this.”
    “How do you know that?” She heard her tone sharpen, and registered Geary’s dissatisfaction as he sat hard into the bucket seat.
    “You’re making a mistake,” he said. “Will Parker isn’t involved in his wife’s disappearance. You’ve met him. He’s a nice guy. He’s got family coming to take his kids off the island. No way is he going to hurt them.”
    She looked at Geary, his rumpled face, wild whitehair, unclean clothes. “Don’t try to tell me you haven’t seen worse than that.”
    He smiled and a band of silver shone on the left side of his lower gum. “You got me there, missy.” He seemed to catch himself, and his smile dropped away. “Looking at the history of these crimes, it just doesn’t jibe. Never has. Won’t this time, either. You’ll be wasting your time in their house. You’ll be wasting Emily Parker’s time.”
    “I’ve got the warrant,” Amy said, “and I don’t see why I shouldn’t use it, just to make sure. I don’t think taking shortcuts and working on assumptions is the way to go.”
    “You learn to take shortcuts.”
    “I haven’t.”
    “You will.”
    The breezy quiet evaporated in the crush of three squad cars pulling into Squaws Lane, wheeling past them and stopping in front of number two. Amy put their car in gear, drove up behind them, parked and got out.
    Sand was blowing everywhere. Amy raised a hand to shield her eyes and evaluated. She had six uniformed men. Kaminer had given her Petersen, Shechter, Partow, Sagredo, Graves and Landberg — the most seasoned patrol officers he had. And he had given her Geary, who regardless of anything else had more experience in crime investigation than all of them put together. Counting herself that was eight cops with a collective spectrum of skills that ran from hot to cold, she being the coldest yet the one who would give the orders. Kaminer must have been having himself quite a field day. If Robertson came home and things got out of control, the big question would be whether she would run the show or the show would run her. Or maybe her cadre of veteran cops would justrun circles around her, giving Kaminer a good yarn to spin until he segued into retirement.
    Or maybe Kaminer actually believed in her.
    She gave the officers a quick rundown of what they were looking for and sent Graves and Landberg to watch the back of the house. Then she walked up to the front door and rang the bell. Waited. Opened the screen door and knocked, hard. Waited again. She opened her purse, took out her wallet, and removed a credit card. Geary issued one of his chuckles, which Amy was learning had the effect of a sibling poking you in your weak spot, begging for reaction. She kept her cool and bent down to see the lock.
    “Fast learner,” he said.
    “I don’t see any reason to damage his door.”
    “That’s not what I meant, Detective.”
    She slid the card expertly past the lock mechanism and it popped. The door opened and she stepped inside. Sagredo stepped in next to her, gun drawn, and shouted, “Police!”
    The other officers fanned out through the living room. Partow and Sagredo scuttled down a hall, and Petersen and Shechter moved toward what appeared to be the kitchen. The house was quiet except for the swish of the waves out on the beach and the soft thudding footsteps of the officers.
    “I have a warrant!” Amy held it in her hand. “We’re coming in!”
    “Who are you talking to?” Geary asked her. “There’s no one here but us.”
    “You’re cute,” she said.
    He winked. “Just following procedure?”
    “You bet.”
    The room was as white as the man.