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leaned forward, said to Levon, “Kim was inside the hotel bar with Del, and Del
     went to the men’s room, and when he returned, Kim was gone. No one
took
Kim. She left on her own.”
    “So that’s the story?” Levon asked. “Kim left the hotel bar on her own, and no one’s heard from her, and she’s been gone for
     a day and a half, and that means to you that Kim ditched the shoot and went sightseeing? Am I getting that right?”
    “She’s an adult, Mr. McDaniels,” Gruber said. “It wouldn’t be the first time a girl dumped a job. I remember this girl, Gretchen,
     took off in Cannes last year, showed up in Monte Carlo six days later.”
    Gruber was talking like this was her office, and she was patiently explaining her job to Levon. “We’ve got eight girls on
     this shoot.” She went on to say how many people she had to supervise and all the things she had to cover, and how she had
     to be on the set every minute or looking at the day’s shots…
    Barbara felt the pressure building inside her head. All that gold on Susan Gruber, but no wedding ring. Did she have a child?
     Did she even know one?
Susan Gruber didn’t get it.
    “We love Kim,” Carol Sweeney blurted to Barb. “I… I felt that Kim was safe here. I was having dinner with one of the other
     models. I mean, Kim is such a good girl and so responsible, I never thought we had reason to worry.”
    “I only turned my back for a minute,” said Del Swann. And then he started to cry.
    It all became clear to Barb, why Gruber had brought her people to see them. Barbara had been raised to be nice, but now that
     she’d stopped denying the obvious, she had to say it.
    “You’re not
responsible?
Is that why you’re all here? To tell us that you’re
not responsible
for Kim?”
    No one met her gaze.
    “We’ve told the police everything we know,” said Gruber.
    Levon stood up, put his hand on Barb’s shoulder, and said to the magazine people, “Please call if you learn anything. Right
     now, we’d like to be alone. Thanks.”
    Gruber stood, slung the strap of her handbag across her narrow chest, said, “Kim will be back. Don’t worry.”
    “You mean, you
hope and pray with every miserable breath you take,
” said Barbara.

Chapter 19
    A MAN STOOD in the thick of the media gaggle outside the Wailea Princess main entrance, waiting for the press conference to
     start.
    He blended in well, appeared to be a guy living out of a duffel bag, maybe sleeping on the beach. He had on sports sunglasses
     wrapped around his face like a windshield, even though the sun was going down. Dodgers cap over his rusty brown hair, vintage
     Adidas, rumpled cargo pants, and hanging down in front of his cheap Hawaiian shirt was a perfect replica of a press pass identifying
     him as a photographer, Charles Rollins of
Talk Weekly,
a publication that didn’t exist.
    His video camera was expensive, though, a state-of-the-art Panasonic, HD-compatible with a stereo microphone boom and a Leica
     lens, costing over six thousand bucks.
    He pointed the lens at the grand front entrance of the Wailea Princess, where the McDanielses were taking up their positions
     behind a lectern.
    As Levon adjusted the mic, Rollins whistled a few notes through his teeth. He was enjoying himself now, thinking that even
     Kim wouldn’t recognize him if she were alive. He lifted his vid cam over his head and recorded Levon greeting the press, thinking
     he’d like the McDanielses if he got to know them. Well, fuck it anyway, he already liked them. What was not to like about
     the McDanielses?
    Look at them.
    Sweet, feisty Barbara. Levon, with the heart of a five-star general. Both of them, salt of the fucking earth.
    They were grief-wracked and terrified, but still comporting themselves with dignity, answering insensitive questions, even
     the de rigueur “What would you say to Kim if she’s listening to you now?”
    “I’d say, ‘We love you, darling. Please be
strong,
’ ” Barbara