Relief flooded the girl’s eyes. “Thanks. Like, really.”

“Sure.”

“I heard he did the same thing at the Bay View Center.”

O’Neil said, “And the hospital, the fire in the elevator.”

“Why’s he doing it?”

They, of course, demurred on the suspected motive. Dance said, “We don’t know. There doesn’t seem to be any clear reason. Now, Trish, I’m sorry to ask but I need to know a little more about your mother’s death. Some of the facts. Are you up for that?”

She was still. She took a deep breath and then nodded. “If it’ll help you catch this asshole.”

“I hope it will.”

“Okay, sure. I guess.”

She said. “Go back to that night. At the Solitude Creek club. After you and your mother got separated.”

A nod.

O’Neil, who’d read the account, said, “If I understand, you were being swept toward the kitchen and she was in the crowd going for the exit doors.”

“That’s right.”

Dance asked, “But before you got into the kitchen, you could see your mother, right?”

Eyes hollow, she nodded. “With the emergency lights I could see her good.”

“Trish, this is a hard question but I have to know. Did it look to you like somebody hurt your mother intentionally? Pushed her out of the way? Maybe to the floor? To save themselves?” She was hardly going to suggest to the girl that her father had hired someone to kill Michelle Cooper, his ex-wife.

The girl said, “Oh, are you thinking of arresting some of the people in the crowd?”

“Whenever somebody dies, it’s important to get the exact details.”

“For the reports,” O’Neil added.

Trish was shaking her head. “I don’t know. The last time I saw her”—she choked, then continued—“the last time I saw her, she was waving at me and then she disappeared behind the pillar, near the last exit door.”

“Did you see anybody beside her, grabbing her?”

“No. I mean, it was just a big knot of people. But nobody in particular. The next thing I knew I was in the kitchen and then we were falling out onto the gravel and grass, and everybody was screaming and crying.”

Tears streaked her cheeks. Dance dug into her purse and found a pack of Kleenex. “Here you go.”

Trish opened the pack and pulled a few out, wiped and blew.

Dance was disappointed the girl hadn’t provided anything concrete. But Dance and O’Neil had other facts to uncover—though slowly and with finesse.

“Thanks, Trish, this’s been helpful.”

“Sure.” She sniffed.

O’Neil delivered his line, according to their script: “I don’t think we have anything else.”

Dance looked around the room. “When we had coffee you told me your father was moving back here. Is that right?”

“Yeah. He lives in a place in Carmel Valley now.”

“Nice.”

“Not really. Not his place. It’s a total dive. And with me in school—Carmel High’s a mile away—it made sense for him to move here. Like…” She glanced around her. “Not too shabby, huh?”