“Who?” Madigan asked in blunt impatience. Apparently forgetting he was a civilian.

“The woman who gave Edwin directions when he got lost.”

Ah, Alibi Woman.

“Edwin was right. It was at the same time Sheri Towne was attacked. And she positively identified him.”

Madigan sighed. “Well, we got this one wrong, boys and girls. Get Sharp in here. I for one am going to apologize.”

A moment later Edwin was escorted into the office and he looked around a little bewildered. His hair was askew. He seemed a bit dizzy, though he was fascinated with Rhyme and the wheelchair.

Gonzalez explained what had happened—which included the revelation that most of the emails he’d received from Kayleigh were fake, not from her at all.

Dance noted his face fall. “She didn’t send them?”

Thick silence for a moment and Dance said, “She sent a few but, I’m sorry, Edwin, the ones actually from her were just form letters. Like she sent to everybody.”

Edwin slipped his hands into his jeans pockets. “I never would’ve gotten so … you know, funny about her, if I knew. Think about it, somebody as pretty and talented and famous as her tells you she’s interested in you, that you mean a lot to her … what was I supposed to think?”

“I understand, Edwin,” Dance said kindly.

Madigan said, “I’m sorry too, son.”

Edwin said nothing for a moment, eyes again on the wheelchair. “So, I’m not a suspect or anything?”

“Nope,” Harutyun said.

He nodded and then focused on Madigan. “Well, then, I don’t have much interest in that complaint I made against you, Detective. And Deputy Lopez. I was just doing what I needed to. It was like self-defense, you understand.”

“I do, and that’s good of you, Edwin. Fact is, when it comes to Kayleigh, we all get a little overly enthusiastic.”

“I’d kind of like to leave now. Is that okay?”

“Sure is, son. We’ll get a statement from you later or tomorrow about what happened with Simesky and the woman—the kidnapping. I’ll have somebody get you home now. You’re in no shape to drive. You can pick up your car tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Detective.” Shoulders down, chest collapsed, he headed out the door. Despite the fact he was hard to read kinesically, Dance could see genuine sorrow in his posture.

Chapter 60

IN THE SERVICE area of the sheriff’s office Lincoln Rhyme aimed for the ramp leading outside. He was accompanied by his New York companions, as well as Kathryn Dance and Michael O’Neil. “Time for a drink, I’d say, then back to San Jose.”

“Time for coffee in the van,” Thom corrected, his boss.

“I’m not driving,” Rhyme replied acerbically. “I can drink.”

“But,” his aide countered fast, “I’m sure it’s illegal to have open containers of liquor in a moving vehicle, even if you’re not driving.”

“It’s not open,” Rhyme snapped. “My tumbler has a lid on it.”

The aide said thoughtfully, “We could of course stay here talking but that just means we’ll get to the bar in San Jose that much later.”