Foster looked over a pad containing his precise notes.

Dance continued, “Generally, it’s hard to tell if somebody’s being deceptive without establishing their baseline behavior.”

“Charles was telling us,” Allerton said.

“But there’re a few attributes that signal deception on their own. One is beginning to speak more slowly, since your mind is trying to craft the lie and make sure it’ll be consistent with everything you’ve said before. The second is a slight increase in pitch—because deception creates stress and stress tightens muscles, including the vocal cords. Those both registered deception when she was talking to me. I called her on it. She broke down and confessed she’d lied and she had been outside the club, from about seven thirty until the incident.”

“What’d she see?” Lu asked.

“White male, over six feet, in a dark green jacket with a logo, like a construction or other worker, black baseball cap, yellow aviator sunglasses. Medium build. Brown hair. Probably under forty. Nobody at Henderson Jobbing wears that kind of outfit. This guy parked the truck beside the club, started a fire in the oil drum and walked back to the warehouse—to drop the keys off. That was it. She stayed until the stampede happened and she took off.”

“Afraid to come forward.”

“She said anybody who’d do that, if he found out about her, would come back and kill her in a minute.”

“Bring her in, grill her,” Foster said, still looking over his notes.

“She’s told us everything she knows.”

His look said, Has she? He said, “If she’s afraid, maybe she’s withholding.”

“She got unafraid when I told her we’d relocate her temporarily, get her into one of our safe houses.”

She saw Overby stiffen. She hadn’t shared this with him. Keeping witnesses alive was expensive.

Budget issues…

Foster shrugged. “Get the descrip out on the wire. ASAP.”

“It is,” Dance said. Every cop and government official on the Peninsula and in neighboring counties had the information this witness Annette had relayed. “She had no facial description; the light was too dim and she was too far away.”

“Get it to the news too,” Foster said.

“No,” Dance said.

He looked up from beneath impressive brows.

Carol Allerton lifted an eyebrow, inquiring about the topic of conversation. Dance briefed her.

Foster reiterated, “On the news. Go broad.”

Overby said, “We were debating that.”

“What’s to debate?” Foster asked.

Allerton said, “He hears, he vanishes.”

Gomez offered, “Yeah, what I’d do. He rabbits. He dyes his hair. Tosses the jacket, switches to pink Ray-Bans.”

Foster to Dance: “Did this witness of yours think he tipped to her?”

“No. The wit’s positive he didn’t see her.”

“So he’s still walking around and probably still wearing the same clothes. The green jacket and all that. A thousand people could’ve seen him. Maybe the clerk in his hotel, or his dry cleaner if he’s local. It’s standard operating procedure in my cases.”

Overby trod the tightrope. “Pluses and minuses on both sides.”