Page 56 of The Instruments of Darkness

“Did Verona ever lose Carly, only to have her returned by someone: a stranger, a woman?”

“No. These are odd questions, Detective.”

“I did warn you. If I send you a picture of this woman by email, will you look at it and tell me if she appears familiar?”

“Sure, I’ll get right back to you.”

He could hear the eagerness in her voice. After so many dead ends, here might be something resembling progress at last.

Pascal hung up, called Chris Walters, and asked him much the same questions, with much the same replies. Pascal ended the conversation and returned to Sabine Drew. She was speaking with the female officer about lasagne recipes. It helped, said Drew, to spread pesto over the top just before the lasagne goes into the oven.

“It makes it smell like Italy. Or what I always imagine Italy smells like, never having been.”

She gave her attention to Pascal.

“Well?”

“With your consent,” he said, “I’d like to send a photograph of you to Verona’s parents.”

She frowned, but not without amusement.

“You still think I might have met them.”

“I’m a rationalist, Ms. Drew.”

“And a Holmesian?”

He frowned.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“?‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’?”

“Oliver Wendell?” offered Pascal.

“Sherlock,” said Drew.

“I don’t read mysteries.”

“That’s understandable, given your line of work. I presume the plots stretch your credulity. And no, I don’t mind your taking my picture.”

Pascal used his cell phone to snap three shots of Drew before emailing them to Larraine and Chris Walters. He sat at his desk to wait for their replies. Minutes later, both came back to confirm that they’d never seen the woman in the pictures.

Pascal went back to the interview room, thanked the female officer for her help, and sat alone with Sabine Drew. From now on, he informed her, he would be recording their exchanges. He surveyed again the map she’d drawn. It showed paths through trees, and a road to the west. There were also two houses, although he couldn’t tell the distance between them because the map wasn’t drawn to scale.

“Explain to me again how you knew about the oatmeal and the doll,” he said.

“Verona told me.”

“Verona Walters.”

“Yes.”

“Did you see as well as hear her?”

“Yes, briefly.”

“How did she look?”