Vanished Read Online Free PDF

something?”
    “Because, ma’am, you were identified by the contents of your purse. Someone saw you lying in the street and called nine-one-one, and because you still had your wallet, we knew who you were and who to call.”
    His stare was penetrating, downright unnerving.
    “So?”
    “Tells us you probably weren’t mugged, right? So maybe you could tell us as much about the incident as you remember.”
    She told them everything she could. Garvin asked all the questions; Scarpino, clearly the recessive gene, said nothing, took notes.
    “The attacker—was there only one of them?” Garvin asked.
    “As far as I know. I mean, some guy grabbed me from behind, and I guess he hit me on the head with something, though I don’t remember that part. And . . . yes, I think he put a gun to my head.”
    “Where?”
    “Right here.” She pointed to her temple.
    “Before or after you were hit in the head?”
    “Before.”
    “What makes you so sure it was a gun?”
    “I—I don’t know, it was hard and round and it felt like metal and—I mean, I suppose it could have been anything, but—”
    “You didn’t see it, though.”
    “No, but—actually, come to think of it, I remember hearing a click. Like a revolver being cocked.”
    “You know what that sounds like?”
    “My dad kept one in the house. I don’t think he ever fired it, but he showed me and my sister how to use it.”
    “Did the attacker try to get your clothes off?”
    “No. But he might have been scared off when Roger showed up.”
    “Let’s back up a little. You and your husband went out to dinner, just the two of you, right?”
    “Right.”
    “A special occasion?”
    Date night, she wanted to say, but instead she replied, “Just dinner.”
    “Whose idea was it to go out to dinner?”
    “What difference does it make?”
    “We’re just trying to get the big picture here.”
    “It was Roger’s.”
    “Did you go out for dinner often, just the two of you?”
    “Not often enough. We used to go out every week, but recently that’s sort of . . . Well, it’s been months, probably.”
    “Did your husband have any enemies that you know of?”
    “Enemies? He’s a businessman.”
    “Mrs. Heller, are you and your husband wealthy?”
    Lauren hesitated. What a question. She didn’t know how to begin to answer that. Wealthy compared to whom? To a police detective? She made a good salary, but it was still a secretary’s salary. Roger made a lot more than she, as a senior vice president, but in the six figures. Not the million-plus that the top corporate officers earned. They lived in a nice house in Chevy Chase. Compared to the house where she and Maura had grown up in Charlottesville—a tiny split-level ranch—it was Versailles.
    On the other hand, compared to the kind of money Roger’s family once had, they were paupers.
    “We’re well-off,” she finally said. She hesitated. “My husband’s family used to be quite rich, but not anymore.”
    Garvin blinked. “Oh?”
    “You might have heard of his father, Victor Heller.”
    A pause. “Sure.” A blank look clouded his eyes. Not an uncommon reaction, she’d found. Victor Heller was famous, and not in a good way. “You think people might assume the family still has money?”
    “How would I know? Anyway, if someone thought he was rich, wouldn’t there be a ransom demand? Wouldn’t they kidnap me instead of him? Or my son?”
    “Just exploring every possibility, that’s all. Did you notice any change in your husband’s behavior recently? Did he start to act differently toward you?”
    “I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at.”
    “Let me ask you something, and please don’t take this the wrong way: You and your husband—how was your relationship?”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “Was there any talk of divorce? Do you think he might have been having an affair?”
    “You’re really clutching at straws, Detective.”
    “Not at all. It’s standard