Decker told Booker why he had called. “For the sake of completeness, we are interviewing everyone who was working at the hotel the night that Ms. McLaughlin disappeared. We understand you were on duty that night and left…actually quit the next day.”

The line was silent.

“We understand that the hotel offered incentives to anyone that would leave early.”

“They did.”

“And that’s why you decided to leave your job?”

Again, there was silence. Decker said, “We’d like to talk to you…find out if you saw Ms. McLaughlin or perhaps heard anything unusual.”

There was a third pause.

Decker said, “Maybe it would be better if you came down to the station house. Since you live in the Valley, I think I’m closer to you than West L.A. Could you make it here in an hour?”

Booker’s voice was shaky when he decided to talk. “I didn’t know that Ms. McLaughlin went missing on Monday.”

“Since Sunday night, actually.”

“No one told me.”

“So now you know. We’re asking for everyone’s help.”

“I knew I shoulda said something.”

“About what?”

The man didn’t answer. Decker was sitting on anxiety and frustration. “How about if I came by your house and we could talk there?”

“No, I’ll come in to you.”

“Great. When?”

“Where are you? Devonshire?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I could be there in a half hour.”

“I’ll be here. Thanks for your help.”

“She seemed okay,” Booker said. “I swear she was okay when I left her.”

Soothingly, Decker said, “I’m sure she was okay. She still might be okay. We’re just putting pieces together. That’s why we’re asking for your help—”

“What about the boy?” Booker asked. “She has a son.”

Decker laughed to himself. “The one thing I can tell you with certainty is that the boy is okay.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

EDDIE BOOKER CARRIED a burden. The former security guard should have looked rested from cruising the open seas. Instead his face oozed stress. He was a tall, rawboned man in his fifties with tired dark eyes. He had a wide mouth and tightly knit gray hair. He came in dressed in a white button-down shirt and brown slacks. He was sweating and the interview hadn’t even begun. Decker had originally called him up for the sake of completeness. Now he wondered if he wasn’t looking at a suspect.

“Would you like some water?”

“No, I just want to get this over with.” Booker took a nearby box of tissues and used one to mop his brow.

“Tell me about it,” Decker said.

“I knew it was wrong.” A sigh. “I worked in this business for thirty-six years and nothin’ like this has ever happened before. I don’t know what in hell I was thinking.”

Decker nodded.

“My wife thinks I should get a lawyer.”

“Why?” Decker asked.