“Just say Santa Rosa Police. Put it on speaker.”

Eden clicked on a blank log form on her laptop and picked up the phone. Before she could speak, a woman’s voice said, “Is this the call-in line for the girl in the park?”

“Yes, ma’am. This is the Santa Rosa Police Department. What information do you have?”

“Are you really with the police? You sound like a young girl.”

Across the table Cipriani snorted.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m a police officer. What information do you have?”

“I live in the Redwood Apartments on the western edge of the park. The young woman who lives across my courtyard might be the dead girl. I haven’t seen her since Monday.”

“What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Why do you need my name?”

“We’re keeping a record of everyone who calls.”

“You’re not going to publish it or anything, are you?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Could I be anonymous?”

“If you wish.”

“Okay. Just put me down as anonymous.”

Cipriani and Pace shared a look across the table.

“What’s the young woman’s name?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never spoken to her.”

Eden stared at the blank form on the laptop. Her mind raced. “Have you knocked on her door?”

“No, I wouldn’t want to… Something funny might be going on inside there.”

“Is her car still there?”

“How would I know which car is hers?”

“Is there an apartment manager we could call to get the name and number of the young woman?” At this, Cipriani flashed Eden a thumbs-up sign.

“You’re not going to tell him I called, are you?”

“No, ma’am.”

The caller gave Eden the manager’s name and phone number.

“If this girl’s the one in the park, is there a reward for my calling in?”

“No, ma’am.”

“I guess, with all the budget cuts, everything’s on the cheap now, isn’t it?”

Before Eden could speak, the line went dead. She glanced across the table and met Cipriani’s eyes.

“You get all kinds.” Cipriani puffed out her cheeks and exhaled. “I took calls for a homicide tip line in Fresno before I came here.”

As she typed in the log form, Eden wondered about the two officers at the table. She hadn’t spent much time around street cops. Their size and posture were intimidating. But she was curious about something. “What was it like two years ago when the other girls were killed? Were either of you here?”

Cipriani shook her head. “Not me. Transferred in last year.”

Pace looked at Eden without speaking.

“Bob has issues,” Cipriani said.

Pace shrugged. “I don’t want to say something that gets misinterpreted and ends up with my commanding officer.”

“You, misinterpreted?” Cipriani made a face of mock surprise. “Future Officer-of-the-Year Bob Pace? How could that happen?”

“I won’t repeat what you say,” Eden said.