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"Uh-huh."
"Something interesting's come up. I interviewed Travis before he ran off. I took some notes." A nod at the notebook resting on her lap.
"You did? You talked to him?"
"That's right. I didn't pay much attention until I'd spoken to you and some other people. But now I'm hoping to piece together some clues as to where he's hiding."
"How hard could it be to find--" Caitlin's mother began, as if she couldn't stop herself. But she fell silent under Dance's stern glance.
The agent continued, "Now, you and Travis talked some, right? That night."
"Not really."
Dance was frowning slightly and flipping through her notes.
The girl added, "Well, except when it was time to leave. I meant during the party he was hanging by himself mostly."
Dance said, "On the ride home you did, though." Tapping the notebook.
"Yeah, talked some. I don't remember too much. It was all a blur, with the crash and all."
"I'm sure it was. But I'm going to read you a couple of statements and I'd like you to fill in the details. Tell me if anything jogs your memory about what Travis said on the drive home, before the accident."
"I guess."
Dance consulted her notebook. "Okay, here's the first one: 'The house was pretty sweet but the driveway freaked me out.' " She looked up. "I was thinking maybe that meant Travis had a fear of heights."
"Yeah, that's what he was talking about. The driveway was on this hillside, and we were talking about it. Travis said he'd always had this fear of falling. He looked at the driveway and he said why didn't they have a guardrail on it."
"Good. That's helpful." Another smile. Caitlin reciprocated. Dance returned to the notes. "And this one? 'I think boats rule. I've always wanted one.' "
"Oh, that? Yeah. We were talking about Fisherman's Wharf. Travis really thought it'd be cool to sail to Santa Cruz." She looked away. "I think he wanted to ask me to go with him, but he was too shy."
Dance smiled. "So he might be hiding out on a boat somewhere."
"Yeah, that could be it. I think he said something about how neat it would be to stow away on a boat."
"Good. . . . Here's another one. 'She has more friends than me. I only have one or two I could hang out with.' "
"Yeah, I remember him saying that. I felt sorry for him, that he didn't have many friends. He talked about it for a while."
"Did he mention names? Anybody he might be staying with? Think. It's important."
The teenager squinted and her hand rubbed her knee. Then sighed. "Nope."
"That's okay, Caitlin."
"I'm sorry." A faint pout.
Dance kept the smile on her face. She was steeling herself for what was coming next. It would be difficult--for the girl, for her mother, for Dance herself. But there was no choice.
She leaned forward. "Caitlin, you're not being honest with me."
The girl blinked. "What?"
Virginia Gardner muttered, "You can't say that to my daughter."
"Travis didn't tell me any of those things," Dance said, her voice neutral. "I made them up."
