Chương 7
Lucy stood in the foyer holding her doll.
“Is this a hotel?”
“No.”
“It looks like one.”
“I’ve been told.”
“Do people live here?”
“I do.”
“That’s not people.”
Helen covered a smile.
Richard pretended not to notice.
He showed Lucy the guest room.
She stood in the doorway.
“No.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“The window.”
The room faced the street.
Richard understood.
“There’s another room.”
He opened the small room Margaret had once used for sewing. It faced the fenced backyard. The window was narrower. The wallpaper was still pale yellow because Richard had never entered often enough to repaint it.
A cabinet held some of Margaret’s thread.
Lucy touched one spool.
“Who lived here?”
“No one.”
“Why is there sewing stuff?”
“My wife used this room.”
“Grandma?”
Richard’s throat tightened.
“Yes.”
Lucy looked around.
“She’s dead?”
“Yes.”
“Mommy said she was nice.”
“She was.”
“Nicer than you?”
“Substantially.”
Lucy considered the bed—a daybed Richard had bought after Margaret died because someone suggested turning the room into a guest space and he wanted the conversation to end.
“I’ll sleep here.”
Helen went over safety rules. Doors locked. Windows. Emergency contacts. No unauthorized visitors. Richard listened.
Lucy sat on the bed and picked at the doll’s repaired seam.
Mara had used small, neat stitches.
After Helen left, Richard stood in the hallway.
“What do children your age wear to bed?”
Lucy looked at him as if he had confessed ignorance of gravity.
“Pajamas.”
“I understand the category.”
“I have clothes at home.”
“We can’t go there.”
“I know.”
“I can buy some.”
“Now?”
“The stores are open.”
“It’s almost ten.”
“Some are open.”
“You’re going to leave me?”
The question came fast.
Richard stopped.
“No.”
Lucy looked down.
“We’ll improvise.”
He found an old T-shirt in a drawer. It reached her knees.
She changed in the bathroom and came out carrying the red coat.
“You can leave that in the hall to dry.”
“No.”
“It’s soaked.”
“No.”
“You’ll get the bed wet.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
Her face tightened.
Richard heard himself.
He took one step backward.
“Keep the coat.”
She climbed into bed wearing it over the T-shirt.
He wanted to argue about hypothermia, damp fabric, pneumonia, reasonable sleeping conditions.
He said nothing.
Ten minutes later, she was asleep sideways with one boot still on.
Anna had warned him.
Falls asleep somewhere stupid.
Richard sat on the edge of a chair.
He removed the boot carefully.
Lucy woke instantly and kicked.
Her heel caught him in the wrist.
He grunted.
She scrambled backward against the headboard.
“It’s me.”
Her breathing came hard.
Richard stood and backed away.
“Sorry.”
She stared at him.
“I was taking off your boot.”
“Don’t.”
“I won’t.”
“Don’t touch me when I’m sleeping.”
“I won’t.”
The certainty in his voice made her look at him.
He nodded once.
“That’s a rule now.”
She lay down again, still watching him.
Richard left the door open and sat in the hallway until her breathing slowed.
At eleven-fourteen, Walter arrived.
Richard met him in the kitchen.
Walter Greene had aged badly and honestly. His hair had thinned to a white fringe, and his stomach carried the consequences of thirty years eating in cars. He put a paper bag on the counter.
“Sandwiches.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Then I’ll eat both.”
Walter looked toward the hallway.
“She asleep?”
“Yes.”
“You sure she’s Anna’s?”
Richard handed him a photocopy Brooks had allowed him to keep of Lucy’s birth certificate.
Mother: Anne Margaret Mercer.
Father: Evan James Mercer.
Walter read it.
“Evan.”
“Yes.”
“Jesus.”
“Yes.”
“He died twelve years ago.”
“Seven months before Lucy was born, according to the date.”
Walter looked again.
“So Anna was pregnant when he drowned.”
“Apparently.”
“And she never contacted you.”
“No.”
Walter rubbed his forehead.
“You’re going to make this about what she did to you.”
Richard looked at him.
“I’m not.”
“You already are.”
Richard’s anger arrived because the accusation was accurate.
“My daughter was abducted yesterday.”
“Then make it about yesterday.”
Walter took a sandwich from the bag.
Richard opened a cabinet and removed two glasses.
“Whiskey?”
“No. You need your head.”
“I have my head.”
“That’s the problem.”
Richard poured water.
Walter ate standing up.
“Northbridge is dirtier than it looks,” he said. “Not necessarily illegal dirty. Corporate dirty. Former cops. Former prosecutors. Compliance people who know exactly how close to stand to a line.”
“Cole’s background?”
“Former state investigator. Left after an internal complaint.”
“For what?”
“Coercive interview tactics. Complaint unsubstantiated.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning exactly what it says.”
Richard hated when Walter used his own language against him.
“Any connection to our department?”
“Several. One worries me.”
“Who?”
Walter took out his phone.
“Lieutenant Michael Soren.”
Richard knew the name.
Not personally.
Soren commanded a special investigations unit.
“How?”
“He and Cole worked together fifteen years ago in the attorney general’s office.”
“Ruiz notified Major Crimes.”
“Which means Soren could know.”
“Could.”
“You’re enjoying uncertainty tonight.”
“I’m trying to keep you from turning suspicion into fact because your granddaughter is asleep twenty feet away.”
Richard looked toward the hallway.
Walter lowered his voice.
“There’s more.”
“Go ahead.”
“Halcyon’s device subsidiary had a cluster of civil claims five years ago involving implanted infusion pumps. Most settled confidentially. No criminal charges. FDA review, corrective action, some recalls.”
“Project Orchard?”
“Nothing public.”
“Anna found altered data.”
“According to her letter.”
“You doubt her?”
“I doubt everyone when millions of dollars are involved.”
Richard leaned against the counter.
“You always liked her.”
“Yes.”
“She liked you.”
“She liked anyone who didn’t interrogate her over dinner.”
Richard looked at the glass in his hand.
Walter sighed.
“Sorry.”
“No.”
“You didn’t make her disappear.”
“I told her the house wouldn’t be hers if she left.”
“You were angry.”
“I was precise.”
Walter said nothing.
Richard continued.
“She believed me.”
“Maybe.”
“I believed me.”
May you like
That silenced Walter.
The prepaid phone from the locker was being examined by police. The microSD card was already on its way to a digital evidence unit. Richard had no control over either.
