Gun Games - Faye Kellerman [108]
“Perfect.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Sooner is always better.”
Decker went over to Marge’s desk. She was hanging up on the phone call. “That was Darla Holbein’s mother. She’s furious but not at us. Darla will have some explaining to do.”
“Marge, I need someone to make up six-packs of the teens to show to Yasmine and Gabe for ID. Who’s free?”
“Drew Messing might be free,” Marge said. “He just finished with the Glock. It was stolen from Kyle Kerkin’s father eight months ago.”
“Yeah, Oliver just told me.”
“Messing’s writing up the report.”
“When he’s done with that, tell him to start on the photo arrays, okay?”
“Okay. How about if we do Dylan, Kyle, and Cameron first since they’re all over eighteen?”
“Good idea,” Decker said. “Do you have any recent pictures of them we can use? Maybe something from their yearbook?”
“I can probably get their pictures from Facebook. If not, I’ll do an image search.”
“Good. We’ll worry about the others later. Does Dylan have a last name?”
Marge smiled. “It’s Lashay.”
Decker would have smiled if he wasn’t so busy. “Okay. Take one of Lashay’s photo lineup to Yasmine and to Gabe before he goes into surgery.”
“When is he going into surgery?”
“In an hour.”
“That’ll be tight.” A pause. “Shouldn’t someone interview him?”
“Shit, you’re right.”
“I’ll do it once I’ve made the photo pack,” Marge said. “If Gabe and the girl make a positive ID, I’ll pull warrants for Lashay’s house and for his school locker. I’ll have Drew do the others.”
At that moment, a gorgeous, stick-thin woman with tied-up black hair stormed into the squad room, her stilettos clacking against the hard floor. Sohala Nourmand’s perfectly made-up face was a cross between fury and pure panic.
Decker said, “She’s fine, Mrs. Nour—”
“I want to see my daughter now!”
“I’ll take you to her—”
Sohala wagged her finger in Decker’s face. “I call my husband now. We go call our lawyer. You’ll hear from us very soon! Now where is my daughter so I can take her home?”
Decker tried to remain calm. “Neither you or your daughter are going anywhere—”
The woman was furious. “We are leaving now!”
“Mrs. Nourmand, your daughter may be in extreme danger and no matter how angry or scared you are, you are not going to compromise her safety! I think we both can agree on that.”
The woman was aghast. “She’s in extreme danger?”
“I don’t know how much you know, but from what I’ve managed to gather, she was kidnapped at gunpoint.” Decker was talking as fast as he could. “My foster son, who was with your daughter at the time, managed to get her away, but he was shot in the process. Gabriel will be undergoing surgery. We’re holding some people who may be responsible on attempted murder charges, but there’s a good chance at least some of them will make bail and I want to make sure your daughter is away and completely out of the picture if that should happen. So we need to strategize before you yank her out of her safety net and into this big, bad world.”
Sohala’s mouth had dropped open. Abruptly her eyes rolled in the back of her head and she began to sway. Then her knees buckled.
Decker and Marge caught her before she hit the ground.
Chapter Thirty-two
Marge said, “Should I call an ambulance?”
“No, no, no,” Sohala whispered.
“Get her some water.” Decker took her pulse. It was slow but steady. “Would you like me to call your husband for you?”
“No!” Sohala moaned. “He has a weak heart.” Sohala’s eyes were brimming with tears. “Was my daughter . . . ?”
“No.” Decker assured her. “She wasn’t physically harmed at all.”
“You are positive?” she whispered.
Marge came back with the water. “Let me go make those photo packs before we lose our witnesses to surgery and Mom.”
“Good idea,” Decker told her.
Sohala sat up and sipped water. It took her a few minutes to find her voice. “Yasmine is okay?”
“She’s fine. You can go see her in a moment, but first just hear me out—”
“This is a bad dream. A nightmare . . . Do you say someone was shot?”
“My foster son, yes.”
“Dead God . . .