Fact: There is no record of Susan Merrills existence prior to forty years ago, in San Diego, California.
Fact: Richard Merrills background is unverifiable.
The fact was, he was spinning his wheels, turning in circles, going nowhere. He needed answers, and there didnt seem to be any, anywhere.
Exceptmaybe hidden in Richard Merrills desk?
And there was that picture, the one of Lindsey playing in the snow. What was it about that photo that bothered him? Why couldnt he put his finger on it?
It would come to him. Eventually. He hoped.
The ringing phone woke Lindsey out of a sound sleep. She reached for it, shaky, heart pounding. She was an insurance agent; a phone call in the middle of the night most likely meant disaster for someone.
She propped herself on one elbow, cleared her throat and fought to produce a professional-sounding, if somewhat husky, Yes-this is Lindsey Merrill. How can I help you?
She propped herself on one elbow, cleared her throat and fought to produce a professional-sounding, if somewhat husky, Yes-this is Lindsey Merrill. How can I help you?
She heard a soft grunt. Well, you sound wide-awake. Dont tell me you cant sleep, either.
Wha-whoAlan? She lurched upright, shaking in earnest now. Adrenaline, she told herself. His voice was unexpected at that hour of the night. Woken out of a sound sleep-who wouldnt be startled?
Yeah, its me. Sorry to wake you.
No problem, she murmured, and put one hand over her eyes, gritting her teeth as she tried to slow her breathing. What-
Couldnt sleep. His voice was brusque, all business. She could imagine his eyes, hard and cold as flint. Cop eyes. Hey, listen-Ive got a question for you.
Yeah, okay. She cleared her throat; her heart rate seemed to be returning to normal. Sure, go ahead.
Did you ever own a snowsuit?
She laughed, and said, I beg your pardon? Whatever she might have expected, it wasnt this.
A snowsuit-you know, one piece, zipper down the front, mittens on a string threaded through the sleeves so you wont lose em. Oh, and a hood that cinches up tight around your faceyour mom and dad ever make you wear something like that?
Uhno, I dont think so. Why would they? This is San Diego!
Even when you went to the mountains to play in the snow?
No! We went likeonce, that I can remember. Why would they buy me a snowsuit to play in the snow once? You saw the pictures. I was wearing a regular jacket. And I think I had on a knitted cap and mittens-they probably bought me those just for the occasion. Why on earth would you ask such a thing?
Think about it. His voice was rough, gravelly. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine.
She gave a helpless shrug. Icant. I dont know what-
Your mom-when she told you about Jimmy playing in the snow. You said she mentioned a snowsuit. Remember that? Are you sure-are you positive thats what she said? She specifically said he wore a snowsuit?
Yesyes, Im sure she said snowsuit. She caught a quick breath, feeling in short supply, suddenly. She said he looked like-
-a penguin. Thats what I thought. There was a long exhalation. Okay, well, that field of haystacks were looking in just got a whole lot smaller.
I still dont-
Lindsey, I grew up in Philadelphia. I remember snowsuits. I wore snowsuits. Hot-so many layers underneath you couldnt move, and God help you if you had to pee or scratch an itch. Every kid who grew up where its cold had to wear snowsuits. Like you said-people who live where its warm dont buy snowsuits just to go play in the snow once in a blue moon.
So, that means
Youre obviously not awake yet. It means your mother remembers living someplace where there was snow in the winter-on a regular basis.
Lindsey drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, and felt steadier. That narrows it down some, I suppose, she said doubtfully.
More than you realize, actually. Remember what your mom said about floating? I think she was on a boat. Which means not only was it someplace cold in the winter, but it had to be near water. So, Im thinking, the Atlantic Ocean or the Great Lakes. Anyway, it gives me a place to start. But in the meantime, LindseyI need a favor.
Um She cleared her throat, listened to her hammering heart, and then herself saying, Sure.
I need to get back in your parents house. When your father isnt home. Can you do that for me?
Lindsey couldnt answer him. Her stomach felt hollow, and she was cold.
After listening to her silence for several seconds, Alan said in a soft-gruff voice, LookLindsey. I know how you feel-I do. Please believe me when I tell you, Im not trying to railroad your dad. Im not accusing him of anything. Im just trying to find out what happened to your mom that shes having these terrible memories. It could very well be that shes mistaken about who shot her-if anyone shot her. It could be your dad is guilty of nothing more than trying to protect her. Be that as it may, there is something in that desk of his hes nervous about. Maybe its nothing more than his personal diary, orI dont know, his secret stash ofwhatever. But I really need to find out what it is he doesnt want me to see. Okay?
He waited, and she still couldnt answer. After a moment she heard him sigh. Okay, look. If you dont want to do this, just tell me now. Tell me youve changed your mind about wanting to find out whether theres any truth to your mothers nightmares, and Ill back off right now. Is that what you want?
Yes! Oh, yes-I wish Id never brought this to you. I dont want to know! Her heart cried out in anguish, but she knew it was lying. The genie was out of the bottle, and there was no putting it back.
She put her hand back over her eyes and, after unsticking her tongue from the roof of her mouth, managed to croak, No. No, its okay. Illum. Okay. He golfs with Mr. Norwood, our-the next-door neighbor. On Mondays.
What time?
I dont know-mornings, I think. No, wait-yes, its mornings, and they usually have lunch together afterward. So, anytime before noon should be good. She pressed her fist tightly against her chest. Let me know what time you want to go and I can meet you there.
Waiting tensely, she heard a long exhalation. Okay, good. Ill call you Monday morning once I know what my days going to look like. And LindseythanksI know this isnt easy.
She didnt know what she replied. All she wanted was for him to be gone so she could curl herself up in a ball underneath the covers and give in to the ache in her throat, her chest, her entire body. But once the connection had been broken, instead she went on sitting with the lifeless phone in her hand, listening to the far-off shushing of waves against the rocks below the cliffs.
After a while she laid the phone back on the nightstand and unfolded herself, stiff as an old woman. She got out of bed and went to the bathroom, where she washed her face with cold water. As she patted herself dry, she stared at herself in the mirror, noticing the shadows under her eyesthe lines around her mouth shed swear hadnt been there before.
Oh, Godwhat have I done? Moms illness is tearing our family apart, and now I have to destroy everything thats left? And, as if that werent enough, I have to go and develop some kind ofsomething-a crush? Lord knows what this is, because it cant possibly be love!-for the man who is the instrument of my familys destruction? How could I?
And please God, tell mehow can I stop it?
She didnt know how long she stood in front of the mirror, gazing into her own anguished eyes, before she felt it-the slow relaxing of tension in her body, the easing of the muscles around her mouth and eyes. A quietness came over hera sense of something like peace-or acceptance, perhaps.
Because, she thought, whatever else happens, I know Dad loves me, and I know he loves Mom.
It doesnt matter if I take Alan to the house, and it doesnt matter if he searches Dads desk. He wont find anything. Because my dad has nothing to hide.
Alan stared down at the square of unfinished wood, not wanting to believe, not wanting to accept what lay there before him.
I dont understand. Lindsey spoke in the voice of a bewildered child, and he refused to hear the pain in it. Frustration vibrated through his insides and fury burned behind his eyes.
Too late, dammit. Too late!
It was here, he said flatly. You can see it yourself. He pointed to the dark rectangle of glue residue about half an inch wide, framing a space the exact size of a standard manila envelope. He gave the brush in his hand another twitch, and a few more grains of fine black powder sifted down onto the bare wood surface. Something was taped to the bottom of this drawer-with masking tape, probably. But its gone now. He exhaled slowly through his nose and reeled in his disappointment, allowing himself only a whispered, Damn.
It could have been anything, Lindsey said, her voice now unsteady but defiant. She was hugging herself, he saw when he glanced at her. Had the shakes, probably.
Yes, it could. Anything at all. And whatever it was, your father couldnt take even the remotest chance that a police homicide detective might get his hands on it.
You dont know that! It was a cry of pain, as if hed wounded her. You cant possibly know when- She froze.
An instant later, so did he. Theyd both heard it-the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. The creaking of a garage door rising.
I thought you said-
Its too early! Something must have-its not even noon! Her eyes were huge above the hands clamped across her mouth. She moved them long enough to whisper hoarsely, Oh, God-what am I going to do?
Go-now. Stall him. Ill get this cleaned up. Tell him-hell, never mind. Tell him anything. Just stall him.
She nodded and went, leaving the office door partly open. He had to admire her for that presence of mind, since the sound of the door closing and then reopening would have given him away for sure.
He moved quickly, sliding the drawer back into place with as little noise as possible, then putting everything back in it, careful to put things exactly as hed found them. Knowing that, if Merrill was as knowledgeable as he appeared to be, hed have left some kind of tell that would let him know instantly that someone had violated his secret hiding place. Couldnt be helped.