“Well, sometime soon. I have questions for him.”
Becca’s cell chimed in her pocket and she pulled it out. “Rachel,” she mouthed. She flipped open the phone and stared at it. “Rachel? I’m fine. But you know…I can’t possibly sum up any of this at this time.” She handed the cell to Jo. “Here.”
Jo took the phone and Becca walked over to Pam Emerson. She held out her hand and the officer took it.
“Thank you, Pam, for being kind to me that night.” She smiled at Jo. “I’ll be waiting outside, okay? Please don’t be long.” She stepped carefully out of Jo’s ruined office.
“You think she’s all right?” Pam asked.
“Becca will be fine.” Jo hoped she told the truth. She lifted the cell and spoke tersely. “Dr. Perry? Joanne Call. You need to get me in to Western State Hospital to see John William Voakes. Today, preferably.”
Chapter Nine
Jo decided to let Becca answer the doorbell. She wanted to use her best digital recorder to interview Voakes, and it required careful calibration. She squinted into the dim light of the only standing lamp in the living room and adjusted settings until she realized the bell had rung for a third time.
“Becca, would you please get the door?” Jo rolled her eyes. Her tone was inordinately sweet, even to her own ears. She’d bitten back her annoyance at the interruption and compensated by sounding like a cloying nanny cooing to a toddler. She supposed she still had an urge to shield Becca, given their morning, and she was capable of answering doorbells herself.
She took the two stairs to the entry in one long stride and pulled open the door. Rachel Perry stood on the front porch, carrying a small bouquet of tulips, shading her eyes and looking toward the large cemetery across the street. The sun cast dappled shadows across her face. For a moment she resembled one of the still statues in that burial ground, dignified and ageless. She turned to Jo with a tentative smile.
“Hello, Joanne.” She extended the flowers to Jo. “Fresh from my garden. Becca’s fond of these.”
“Good afternoon, Rachel. Thank you.”
“Becca said she wanted to say hello to an old friend in Lake View.” Rachel nodded toward the cemetery. She seemed curious, but refrained from questions. “She asked me to tell you to meet her there.”
“Ah.” Jo frowned down at the flowers. It was past noon, and a good hour’s drive to Western State. “I hadn’t realized Becca had left the house. I was rather caught up in my…in any case. I’ll join her there.”
Rachel nodded. She reached into the tasteful purse draped over her shoulder and drew out a crisp folded sheet of paper. “I knew you wanted this quickly.”
Jo accepted the page with a rush of relief. She had asked Rachel to fax this reference to Western, but it would be good to have it in hand as well. “I appreciate this. I was going to have you fax a copy to my office, but…”
“I’m so sorry to hear of the break-in, Joanne. It must have been a nasty shock for you both, walking in on that scene.”
“Yes.” Jo scanned the letter quickly. “Police are looking into it.”
“Do you think there’s any connection between what was done to your office and the work you’re doing with Becca?”
Jo looked up sharply. The fine lines around Rachel’s eyes had deepened since she last saw her. Her worn features revealed concern, but not accusation. “That thought had occurred to me, yes. It could have been a random act, but the timing is suspicious.”
She realized she was keeping an infirm woman, Becca’s close friend, standing on the front porch, and she flushed. “Rachel, excuse me. Please, come in.”
“It’s all right, Joanne.” Rachel patted Jo’s arm. “I only stopped by to give you the release. Becca’s waiting for you, and I know you’re wanting to get started. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.”
Rachel turned and made her way carefully down the steps to the sidewalk. She looked small and frail, but she offered Jo a friendly wave.
“Rachel?” Jo remembered her promise to Becca. She set the tulips and the letter on the stoop and came down the steps slowly. “I brought up some painful memories for you the other night. I apologize if I was insensitive.” She blew out a breath. That had sounded okay to her. “I know you worry about Becca. I want you to know I’ll take every precaution to make sure she’s all right.”
Rachel watched her face, reading her as if she were as adept with microexpressions as Jo, as she might well be. “I do worry about our friend, I admit it. But if my feet were held to the flames, I’d have to admit Becca is an intelligent and perfectly capable woman, and I trust her. And she trusts you, Joanne.”
Rachel stepped closer, and her voice was soft but clear. “I hope I’m not saying this for the wrong reasons; because I’m tired, or not at my best, these days. But I’m going to allow myself to be completely selfish for a moment. If there is any—any explanation for the death of Becca’s parents other than Maddie Healy’s psychosis, I want you two to find it.” She paused. “I care for Becca very much, and I want to believe she can find some kind of peace with this. And I admit I would love to live, just one day, without feeling I failed her family. I’ll do anything I can to help you learn what happened that night.”
Jo nodded. She watched Rachel walk to her car, her mind clicking through every nuance of her expressions. She was sure of it. Rachel was telling the truth.
The rolling hills of Lake View Cemetery were sparsely populated again today, at least by the living. Jo could hear distant rhythms of reggae from adjacent Volunteer Park, a vast, friendly montage of playing fields, museums, and stages. Seattle was gearing up for the weekend’s Gay Pride celebration, and the endless pre-parties were well underway.
As expected, Becca waited for her in the friendly shadow of the Lady of the Rock. In spite of the distractions of her trashed office and the interview with Voakes, Jo experienced a moment of simple pleasure at the sight of her. Becca was sitting back on her hands in the lush grass, gazing up at the Lady’s strong face. Her own expression was thoughtful and calm.
“Rachel provided a letter of reference.” Jo wished she had opened this conversation less abruptly, but Becca only smiled up at her.
“Yeah, she thinks seeing Voakes won’t be a problem.” Becca extended one hand to Jo. After a brief silence, she said, “Um, catch a clue, please? I eat four pounds of chocolate every day.”
“Oh.” Jo took Becca’s hand and pulled her gently to her feet. She rose gracefully, in spite of her claim of gluttony.
Becca brushed grass from her hips and nodded at the Lady. “Do you ever wonder where she’s pointing?”
Jo looked up at the statue’s extended right hand, the delicate fingers gesturing into the distance. She turned and peered over her shoulder in that direction. “It seems she’s pointing toward the cemetery’s restrooms.”
Becca laughed. “Yes, I realize the restrooms lie over there. But this statue must have been cast a century ago, and far away from here. I’ve always wondered what her sculptor wanted us to see.”
Jo remembered the line from Derrida that Mitchell Healy had quoted the other night. “Another question of ghosts to be solved.”
Becca smiled her understanding. “Can I show you something?”
“You may.”
They began walking north, away from the fading music from the park, until Becca nudged Jo slightly east.
“I’d like to avoid that patch, if you don’t mind.”
The distant field was dotted with life-sized memorial statues, and Jo understood. Becca led her down a winding path of smaller gravestones to a wide plain of recessed metal plates. She wondered if Scott and Madelyn Healy lay beneath this sad ground; Becca had never said where her parents were buried.