Youre thinking shes mixing up your father with someone else?
Yes. She said it on a hiss of exhaled breath, and the easing inside her chest made her feel almost giddy. He was frowning but his eyes were sharp, focused on her now with interest that looked real rather than merely polite. And thisthing that happened to your mother, it would have to have been
Before she met my dad. So, probably forty-some years ago, maybe? Anyway, a long time.
And you think it happened here-in San Diego?
She held up her hands, a gesture of the helplessness she felt. I have no idea. I just assumed shed always lived here, but now She gave a small precarious laugh.
Has she given you any details? Anything that might help to narrow it down to a time and place?
She shook her head. Whenever she starts talking to me about it, she just cries. And begs me to tell the police. Overwhelming sadness forced her to smile. So, now I have. Maybe you can get more out of her. Its what you do, isnt it?
The arrival of the waiter with the check saved him from having to answer what was, after all, a rhetorical question.
Obeying protocol, the waiter presented the plastic-bound folder containing their bill to Alan, the male of the party. Lindsey reached to intercept it, and there was a brief comedic moment when it appeared a three-way tug-of-war might ensue.
I invited you, remember? Alan said, smiling at her over the contested prize.
Lindsey countered with a smile of her own and, Yes, but I own my own business. I need the tax deduction.
Ah, but if I let you pay for my lunch, it could be construed as bribing a police officer.
Lindsey laughed and yielded. Okay, that trumps me. You win.
He took out his wallet, selected some bills and placed them on top of the folder without looking at what was inside, nodded at the hovering waiter, then rose. Lindsey hurriedly snatched up her purse and did the same, and Alan took her elbow and said, Hows your afternoon?
She hesitated, thrown off guard in much the same way she had been when hed asked if she liked sushi, and again when hed ordered her to use his first name. She was a naturally reserved person and tended to be cautious-even timid-when getting acquainted with strangers, thoroughly testing and getting comfortable with the unknown waters before taking the next step. The detectives abrupt-even snap-decisions were unsettling to her. I took it off, she said, recovering. But you dont mean you-
Why not? One things for sure, after forty-some-odd years, this case isnt going to get any fresher. Alan was thinking about the reports he was supposed to be filling out, waiting for him back at his desk. He smiled into the amazing black-fringed eyes so nearly on a level with his own. So, lets go talk to your mom, shall we?
They went in separate cars-her choice, not his, but as he followed Lindsey Merrills classy silver-blue Mercedes through the streets of San Diego, he had some time to think about what he might be getting himself into.
As far as this cold case went, probably nothing. He was pretty sure it was going to turn out to be exactly what it looked like-a case of Alzheimers taking a peculiar turn, a sad story but hardly one that warranted the time and energy of the San Diego Police Department. And he was going to have to explain to his captain why hed spent the afternoon chasing wild geese when there were open cases he should be working.
So, why was he doing this? Sure, Lindsey Merrill was attractive, but he was long past the age when his hormones were able to override his good sense. The last time that had happened hed been about seventeen, and he figured he still had a way to go before hed reach the age where a desire to recapture those randy days of youth might lead him down those old dangerous paths.
What it was, he realized, was that hed reached an age where he was beginning to question the paths hed already chosen. Questioning how much longer he was going to be able to deal with the constant parade of teenaged-gang-violence victims and domestic violence cases-those were the worst, particularly the ones involving kids-without burning out. Hed seen it happen to guys hed come up through the ranks with. He didnt like to dwell on those stories of breakdowns and suicides, and even now pushed them out to the fringes of his consciousness and tethered them there with the mantra, Thats not gonna happen to me, wont happen to me.
At the same time, he felt twinges in his side where the knife wound hed received during a recent domestic violence case hadnt completely healed yet. Hed shot and killed the guy, a righteous shoot if there ever was one, and had just come off administrative leave due to officer-involved shooting-his first-and the mandatory visits with the department shrink, who had suggested he might benefit from some mild antidepressants. Which hed refused, of course. He didnt need pills. What he needed was to see some evidence that his efforts-and those of his brother and sister officers-were having some effect in keeping the whole damn world from going to hell in a handbasket.
Would this wild-goose chase he was on do the trick? Probably not, he thought, but it couldnt hurt, either. Hed hear what Susan Merrill had to say-if she was coherent-and what was the worst that could happen? Hed conclude it was the Alzheimers talking, and hed have had lunch and spent an interesting afternoon in the company of an attractive woman. A very nice, very classy, attractive woman.
He felt a little smug about the fact that the word sexy hadnt even entered his head.
Until now.
Driving sedately and self-consciously, keeping one eye on the detectives anonymous dark sedan in her rearview mirror, Lindsey still had plenty of time to wonder, for the umpteenth time, whether she was doing the right thing. She was honest enough with herself to know that, right or wrong, she was doing this more for herself than her mother. As painful as it was to see her mother so fragile and frightened, what she hated more was the feeling that her own world was spiraling out of her control. Again.
He felt a little smug about the fact that the word sexy hadnt even entered his head.
Until now.
Driving sedately and self-consciously, keeping one eye on the detectives anonymous dark sedan in her rearview mirror, Lindsey still had plenty of time to wonder, for the umpteenth time, whether she was doing the right thing. She was honest enough with herself to know that, right or wrong, she was doing this more for herself than her mother. As painful as it was to see her mother so fragile and frightened, what she hated more was the feeling that her own world was spiraling out of her control. Again.
Trent had once accused her of being a control freak. It had been during one of the counseling sessions shed agreed to attend with him in the weeks leading up to her decision to divorce him, once and for all. She remembered the counselor regarding her in that way he had, fingers steepled in front of his chin, eyebrows raised, and asking her what she thought of that. What she thought, of course, was that Trent was wrong, that she didnt see how wanting to have some degree of control over ones own life made one a control freak. It seemed to her that a control freak was someone who wanted to control other peoples lives.
Lindsey had no desire to control anyone elses life. Just her own. She had no problem taking responsibility for her own bad choices-marrying Trent had probably been one of those-but she couldnt stand it when things happened to her that she had absolutely no say in.
It had not been her choice to have a miscarriage.
Miscarriage-what kind of word was that? It sounded as if shed made some sort of minor error, dropped something, or stumbled over something. Shed done nothing of the sort, shed done nothing wrong. There had been absolutely nothing she could have done to prevent her baby from being born too early, so early she couldnt possibly survive. That was the hard truth of it, no matter what euphemism they used: Her child had died. And there had been nothing she could do to save her.
No, shed been unable to do anything about that, but she had been able to keep it from ever happening again. The doctors had told her the odds were she would never be able to carry a child to full term. Rather than take the chance of enduring that kind of loss and pain again, shed made the decision that had eventually destroyed her marriage. Trent had been furious with her-had tried to bully her into changing her mind. But its my body, shed told him, heartbroken that hed seemed incapable of understanding how she felt. Its my choice. And that was when hed accused her of being a control freak.
Why was she thinking about this now? Surely not because Detective Cameron had mentioned his daughter, who was almost ten, which happened to be the age her daughter would have been, if shed lived. No, not because of that. Its been ten yearsit cant be that. Surely not after so long
More likely, it was this thing with her mother, watching her change right before her eyes and being unable to stop the slow inevitable slide that was taking her further and further awayseeing the terrible toll it was taking on her father and being unable to do anything to help him. All this was making her feel powerless all over again. Going to the police with her mothers story was at least doing something. Taking action. Taking control.
Even if nothing came of it, even if Detective Cameron decided it was just the Alzheimers playing tricks with her mothers mind, she told herself, at least shed done that-taken control.
Then, in her mind she saw those eyes, Alan Camerons eyes, steely blue and intently focused, gazing back at her in the rearview mirror, looking at her as hed asked her questions. A chill shivered through her, and she wasnt so sure that was true about taking control. Not anymore.
Pacific Gardens was nice enough, Alan thought, as those kinds of places went. Spanish in style, with a red tile roof and arches and a tiered fountain in front of the main entrance. The lobby looked more like a middle-to-high-end motel than a rest home, with potted palms and brightly upholstered chairs, and simulated terra-cotta floor tile, no doubt because real Mexican clay pavers would have been unkind to wheelchairs and walkers.