“I said. It was eight fifteen a.m. and already almost eighty degrees. Chicago weather is like that, so cold in the winter that tears freeze on your face, so hot in the summer that everything, including your brain, turns into a puddle. Andres and Victor had picked me up at my house. Driving together would make things easier since we were hitting more than one location in the day. I’d left them to haul lights and other equipment out of the van, while I went from the heat into the overly air-condit...ioned Ninth Police District. I spent the next several minutes trying to get the attention of a receptionist at the missing persons division. “Excuse me,” I said louder. “I’m here to see Detective Rosenthal.” “I’ll call her,” the receptionist said, making it clear she was doing me the biggest favor of my life. Finally a tall, thin, thirtysomething woman came toward me from another room. “I’m Yvette Rosenthal,” she said. “You must be Kate.” When Andres and Victor arrived with the equipment, Rosenthal showed us options for the interview and Andres and I picked the conference room.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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