“Okay,” Daniellesaid. “And just for the record, I think you might make a good mom.”
“Why do you saythat?” Jessie asked, bewildered that this was what was on the woman’s mind.
“Because you’reworried that you’ll be a bad one,” Danielle said. “A bad mom wouldn’t care.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Jessie sat besideRyan on the couch in Parker’s Central Station office, listening as the captainupdated them on the situation.
“Robertson will bearraigned on Monday morning,” she said. “We’ll keep her here over the weekendrather than send her to Twin Towers. I want her to have a full psych evaluationbefore she’s put in gen pop over there.”
“I think that’s agood idea,” Ryan said. “From what I could tell, she wouldn’t do very well withthe other inmates.”
“Any word on howSienna Ford is doing?” Jessie asked.
“Last I heard theyhad stitched up her head and were giving her CT scan,” Parker said. “Thedoctors thought that she pretty clearly had a concussion, but they werechecking for internal bleeding.”
“I know how thatgoes,” Jessie muttered.
“I know you do,”Parker said. “I’m just glad that Robertson didn’t get a swing in at you.”
“Me too,” Ryansaid quietly.
“I think that bythe end, she was more interested in getting my approval than bashing my headin,” Jessie observed. “Maybe that’s why she told us the location of the storageunit where she’d planted her two remaining canisters.”
“Whatever works,Ms. Hunt,” Parker said as there was a knock on her door.
“Come!” thecaptain barked.
Her administrativeaide, Officer Shaniqua George, opened the door. “Can I borrow you for a moment,Captain?” she asked.
“I’ll be rightback,” Parker said, stepping out of the office.
Once she was gone,Ryan leaned over and whispered in Jessie’s ear.
“I’ve beenintending to ask you, did you mean what you said to Danielle Robertson aboutkids?”
“What did I sayexactly?” Jessie asked, only half-joking.
“That if you everhad them, you’d do everything you could to give them a better childhood thanyours. It made it sound like you were considering the idea.”
“Oh that,” Jessiereplied, with a dismissive wave. “I was just saying whatever I thought wouldget Danielle to give herself up.”
“Sure you were,Ms. Hunt,” he said, twinkle in his eye. “Sure you were.”
Just then Parkerreturned to the room. “I have what I hope is some good news.”
“Whatever it is,we’ll take it,” Ryan told her.
“I just heard fromthe folks handling the search for Hank Costabile,” she said. “While we don’thave a definitive lock on his location, we think we know where he is.”
“Where?” Jessieasked.
“By the time wegot someone on the Pacific Surfliner train in San Diego, he was gone, that isassuming he was ever actually on it. But we were able to use cameras at thetrain’s last stop, Santa Fe Depot, to find someone matching his physicaldescription—bald, thick-trunked, and wearing what Costabile was last seenin—leaving the station and getting in a cab. Our people ID’d the medallionnumber and tracked down the taxi driver. Apparently, the rider, who paid forhis trip in cash, also matched Costabile’s description. The driver said hedrove the rider to the San Ysidro border crossing near Tijuana, where thepassenger apparently said he was going to walk across the bridge and havehimself a lost weekend. We’re currently attempting to acquire U.S. Border Patrolfootage from around the time of the drop-off. If it bears out, Ms. Hunt’stheory—that he may have just gotten sick of being followed all day, every dayand decided to give us the slip for a temporary reprieve fromsurveillance—might turn out to be the case.”
“Do you buy that?”Ryan asked.
“Everythingsuggests that he may just be looking to get lost for a while,” Parkeracknowledged, “but I’ll feel a lot more confident once I see the actual footagefrom the border crossing, with facial recognition verifying that it’s him.Costabile had lots of friends in the department and among folks on theother side of the law. I’d imagine that some of them are bald and built likebulldozers too.”