“I’ll be right back with Carlo.” He spun and strode out of the room.
Ian watched him until he turned into a doorway. Ian faced Londyn. “I don’t know how you can smile at him like that.”
“Took lots and lots of practice in front of a mirror.” She shook her head. “I started out trying to be a tough guy, hoping men would take me seriously, but half the time they didn’t. One day I figured out I could get more with a smile. Not all the time. I have to judge the guy first, but the first time it worked was the day I started practicing.”
“Whatever works for you,” he said. “You think he’s really going to produce the boy?”
She shrugged. “Not sure how he can get out of it, but he’s a slimeball, so I figure he’ll try something if his son isn’t here.”
Ian heard footsteps heading their way on the Italian marble floors and bit back his comment.
Olivo entered first, a nervous teen behind him. The boy wore faded jeans with ripped knees, a black-and-white striped button-down shirt, and black-and-white sneakers. He had his right hand in his pocket when he strode into the room.
Ian needed to get a look at that hand. He stood and held his out to shake. The kid looked back at his dad, who took Carlo by the shoulders and directed him away from Ian and into a chair. The boy sat and kept his hand in his pocket. But then he picked up a pillow with his left hand, and shielding his right hand, he slipped his hand free of the pocket.
Not exactly subtle.
Olivo was frowning at him. Ian glanced at Londyn, who hadn’t missed anything. Ian nodded at her to begin.
“Carlo, I’m Detective Steele, but you can call me Londyn.” She gave him a more sincere smile than Olivo had earned.
Carlo nodded but didn’t speak.
“I have to first ask if you want your father present while we talk to you.”
Carlo glanced at his dad, who was sitting rigidly in a chair across from Londyn.
“It’s okay if you don’t want him here,” she said softly. “But I wanted to ask because, in my experience, most eighteen-year-old men like you prefer to stand on their own and not hide behind their daddies.”
Ian wanted to high-five Londyn. She’d just made it hard for Carlo to say he wanted his daddy there.
“Of course you want me here, son,” Olivo said, his tone hard as steel. “We don’t have anything to hide from each other, right?”
“Right,” Carlo said, but he didn’t sound all that convincing. “It would be good if he stayed.”
The kid was either smart enough to recognize that his dad would help him through the interview or too afraid of his dad to send him away.
“Okay, then let’s get started.” Londyn sat back, crossed her legs, and smiled at Carlo again, coming across like she was there for a family visit. “Perhaps you can tell me where you’ve been the last four days.”
He shot a look at his dad, sheer terror in his eyes.
“The family has had kind of a lock-in the past few days,” Olivo answered. “I even took time off of work. Sort of a time to unplug and get to know each other better.”
“Sounds nice,” Londyn said, her focus still on Carlo. “What kinds of things did you do?”
“Um, played video games?” It was said like more of a question than a statement.
“I did give him and his sister some gaming time.” Olivo gave his son a patronizing look. “But we also played cards and board games. Did puzzles.”
“You like all those games, Carlo?” Londyn asked.
He shrugged.
“I’m more into sports than sitting around,” Londyn said.
Like Ian, she’d read the report Nick quickly put together on Carlo, which said the boy was an athlete. “You like sports?”
He nodded, and his eyes lit up. “Baseball.”
