“We’ve got two sets for you,” Bobby murmured in my ear. “You know the routine-take your time, ask for any of them to turn around or whatever.”
Six men walked in with self-conscious pugnacity. They all looked alike to me-white, burly, somewhere around forty. I tried to imagine them with black hoods, the executioner of my nightmare this morning.
“Ask them to talk,” I said abruptly. “Ask them to say ‘Just tell us the time, girlie’ and then ‘Dump her here, Troy. X marks the spot.’”
Finchley conveyed the request to the unseen officers running the show. One by one the men obediently mumbled their lines. I kept watching the second guy from the left. He had a kind of secretive smile-he knew they’d never make a serious charge stick. His eyes. Could I remember the eyes of the man who’d come up to me at the edge of the lagoon? Cold, flat, calculating his words to find my weaknesses.
But when this man spoke I didn’t recognize the voice. It was husky, with the twang of the South Side, not the emotionless tones I remembered.
I shook my head. “I think it’s the second guy from the left. But I don’t recognize the voice and I can’t be absolutely certain.”
Bobby nodded fractionally and Finchley gave orders to dismiss the lineup.
“Well?” I demanded. “Is he the one?”
The lieutenant smiled reluctantly. “I thought it was a long shot, but he’s the guy we picked up outside your front door last night. I don’t know if your ID is strong enough for the state’s attorney. But maybe we can find out who puts up bond for him.”
They brought in the second lineup, a parade of black men. I’d seen only one of my attackers close up. Even though I presumed Troy was one of the men in front of me, I couldn’t pick him out, even with a voice check.
Bobby was in high good humor with my ID of the first man. He ran me genially through the paperwork and got Officer Neely to take me home, sending me off with a pat on the arm and a promise of telling me when the first court date would be.
My own mood wasn’t nearly as pleasant. When Neely had dropped me at my apartment I went up to change into running shoes. I wasn’t up for a run yet, but I needed a long walk to clear my brain before seeing little Caroline this afternoon.
First, though, I had to mend a few fences. Mr. Contreras received me coolly, trying to mask his hurt feelings under a veneer of formality. But subtlety wasn’t really part of his makeup. He unbent after a few minutes, told me he would never come up to my apartment again without phoning first, and fried up some eggs and bacon for lunch. I sat talking with him afterward, curbing my impatience at the long flow of irrelevant reminiscence. Anyway, the longer he talked the longer I could put off facing a tougher conversation. At two, though, I figured I’d avoided Lotty long enough and set off for Sheffield.
Lotty wasn’t as easy to kiss and make up with. She was home in between her morning clinic hours and an afternoon concert with Max. We talked in the kitchen while she whipped tiny stitches into the hem of a black skirt. At least she didn’t slam the door on me.
“I don’t know how many times I have patched you up in the last ten years, Victoria. Many. And almost every time a life-threatening situation. Why do you value yourself so little?”
I stared at the floor. “I don’t want anyone solving my problems for me.”
“But you came here last night. You involved me in your problems, and then you disappeared without a word. That isn’t independence-that is thoughtless cruelty. You must make up your mind about what you want with me. If it is just to be your doctor-the person who patches you up when you’ve decided to run your head in front of a bullet-fine. We will go to such cold encounters. But if you want to be friends, you cannot behave with such careless disregard for my feelings for you. Can you understand that?”
I rubbed my head tiredly. Finally I looked at her. “Lotty, I’m scared. I’ve never been this frightened, not since the day my dad told me Gabriella was dying and nothing could be done for her. I knew then that it was a terrible mistake to depend on someone else to solve my problems for me. Now I seem to be too terrorized to solve them for myself and I’m thrashing around. But when I ask for help it just drives me wild. I know it’s hard on you. I’m sorry for that. But I can’t get enough distance right now to do anything about it.”
Lotty finished pulling the thread through her hem and put the skirt down. She gave a wry little smile. “Yes. It is not an easy thing to lose one’s mother, is it? Could we make a little compromise, my dear? I won’t demand of you responses you can’t make. But when you find yourself in this state, will you tell me, so that I am not making myself so angry with you?”
I nodded a few times, my throat too tight for me to speak. She came over to me and held me close to her. “You are the daughter of my heart, Victoria. I know it’s not the same as having Gabriella, but the love is there.”
I smiled shakily. “In your fierceness you’re two of a kind.”
After that I told her about the notebooks I’d left behind. She promised to look at them on Sunday, to see if she could make anything of them.
“And now I must dress, my dear. But why not come spend the night here? Maybe we’ll both feel a little better.”
31
When I got back to my apartment I stopped to tell Mr. Contreras I was home and let him know Caroline would be arriving soon. My conversation with Lotty had done something to restore my equilibrium. I felt calm enough to abandon my plan for a walk in favor of a little housekeeping.
The partially cooked chicken I’d stashed in the refrigerator Tuesday night had become pretty rank. I carried it down to the garbage can in the alley, scrubbed the refrigerator with soda to deaden the smell, and bundled my newspapers out front for the recycling team to pick up. By the time Caroline arrived a little after four, I’d paid all my December bills and had organized the receipts for my tax returns. I was also feeling all my sore muscles.
Caroline came quietly up the stairs, smiling a little nervously. She followed me into the living room, turning down my offer of refreshments in a soft, breathy voice. I couldn’t remember ever seeing her so ill at ease.
“How’s Louisa doing?” I asked.
She made a throwaway gesture. “She seems stable right now. But kidney failure leaves you pretty depressed-it seems dialysis only gets a fraction of impurities out of the system, so you’re always feeling nightmarish.”
“Did you tell her about the call you got-about Joey Pankowski being your father?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t told her anything. About your looking for him or-or, well, about anything. I had to let her know Nancy was dead, of course-she would have seen it on TV or heard it from her sister. But she can’t take any more upsets like that.”
She played nervously with the fringe on one of the sofa cushions, then burst out, “I wish I’d never asked you to find my father for me. I don’t know what magic I thought you could work. And I don’t know why I thought finding him would alter my life in any way.” She gave a harsh little laugh. “What am I saying? Just having you look for him has changed my life.”
“Could we talk about that a little?” I asked gently. “Someone called you two weeks ago and told you to chase me away, didn’t they? That was when you phoned me with that incredible rigmarole about not wanting me to look for your father.”
Her head was bent down so far all I could see was her wild copper curls. I waited patiently. She would not have made the trek up to Lakeview if she hadn’t decided to tell me the truth-it was just taking her some time to give her courage the last screw.