"What do you know about her relatives? Her parents?"
"Her mother died when she was a kid. Her father's in jail. He's serving a ten-year sentence for embezzling money from the company where he worked. She also has a stepmother and a half sister and brother she hates. The stepmother ended up with all the father's money and threw Christine out of the house when she was sixteen."
"It's the father, then. You've got to go see the father."
"In jail?"
"If that's where he is, that's where you see him."
"Why would I do that? He's not hiding her."
Andy Beale's expression showed his frustration and hopelessness. He didn't seem to see any point in raising his voice, or to have enough energy to do it. He blew out a breath and said carefully, "Christine is a kid. Somebody found this woman professional for her and hired her. The wicked stepmother didn't do it. The father is the most likely one. He's also sitting twenty-four hours a day in the best place there is for making contacts who know women who break legs and run over people. Maybe he talked to somebody in prison who could get in touch with the woman on the outside. From what you just said, of all the people Christine knows, the only one she's going to talk to again for sure is her father."
"And?"
"If you want to get a message to her, he's the one you have to leave it with."
"What am I supposed to say to him—that I knocked up his sweet little daughter, but he should be my buddy and help me out?"
"I said to get a message to the girl. You tell him you're in love with her. There was a spat, just a misunderstanding, and she got hurt feelings and ran out on you."
"Do I tell him I was her boss?"
"You tell him everything that will make him think you're a reasonable prospect for his daughter. You're not only her boss, but also the future owner of the company, a rich, successful guy. You're worried about her, you miss her, and you want to marry her." He glared at Richard with irritation. "Sometimes I think you're not a regular person, Richard. You're like some kind of lizard or fish or something, and you don't feel what other people feel. You have to make some kind of leap of imagination so you can figure out what to tell them to make them feel the way you want."
"What am I trying to get from him?"
"Maybe he hired this woman pro, and you can get him to let something slip about her. The least you want him to do is pass your message on to Christine. You want him to help you get her back. A twenty-year-old girl who was sleeping with you might think hearing from you is good news. But the father first. You need him on your side. If he's showing signs that he might think you're good news, too, then ask him for permission to marry his daughter."
"Why would I ask some jailbird for permission to do anything?"
"There. That's what I'm talking about. You've got to put yourself in this man's place. Yes, he's in jail. He's feeling guilty because being there made him unable to protect his daughter, so she got chucked out on the street. He wants to believe you, because it would mean everything worked out all right. She found a nice, steady, prosperous guy who loves her. So you help him believe in you. If he does, he'll try to get her to give you a chance."
"Why should she listen to him?"
Andy Beale studied him for a moment. "The more I think about this, the more I think you're not right for this. Forget I said to see him. I'll do it for you."
"I didn't say I wouldn't do it."
"No," said Andy Beale. "But you probably shouldn't. We get one chance with this guy, and you'd probably fuck it up. I'll just let you know what happened."
"Whatever." Richard shrugged and leaned back in his chair.
"What I want you to do is try some other angles on your own. Think. She's pregnant. She's going to be seeing an obstetrician. She's not going to wait and walk into an emergency room when the baby comes. You're her employer, so try to work with the health insurance company. We're the real customer, because we pay the premiums."
"They're not going to tell us anything about her medical file. It's private."
"Try. All you need is the name of a doctor. Hell, even a city would do. Another thing she'll need is an apartment. We're in the rental business. Send a picture of her to a thousand other large owners and say she's somebody who stole from us and we want to find her. Think about her. What does she need to get by? Who does she know to ask for help? Work on it."
"I will."
"Be sure you do," said Andy Beale. "If you screw around until after she's had the baby, it will be a whole lot harder to persuade her that she needs you." He stood and walked to the door, opened it, and looked out at the receptionist thoughtfully. "What's her father's name?"
"Monahan. I think it's Robert Monahan."
"And where is he?"
"Lompoc."
"All right. I'll talk to you soon." He spared Richard only a glance. "What's the new girl's name?" He returned his eyes to the receptionist.
"Marlene."
"Don't complicate things by fucking her, too."
14
The nightmare that woke Jane slipped away before she could hold on to enough of it to remember. Panting and sweating, she sat up and looked around her. Carey was still asleep beside her, the sheet only partly over his leg now. She must have thrown it off when she had jerked awake, so she gently pulled it back over him to the shoulder and looked at the red numbers on the alarm clock. Four already. He would have to be up at five-thirty so he could drive to the hospital. Ahead of him was another morning of surgery.
Again she tried to remember her dream, but it was gone. There was still enough time to go back to sleep, but she knew she couldn't do that while she could still feel her heart pounding. There was a very faint breeze coming through the screen of the open window across the room, pushing the thin white curtains inward an inch or two and making the sweat on her back feel cold.
After a minute she stood, stepped out of her nightgown, walked down the hall to the farthest of the guest rooms, shut the door, and went into the bathroom. She ran the shower until it wasn't cold, and then stepped into the spray. There was no uncertainty about what had caused her dream. She had been home for a few days, and she had been getting used to being Mrs. Carey McKinnon again, the doctor's wife who lived behind the thick, solid door of the big old stone house. But Jane had promised that she would go and see Christine's father. As she stood in the shower she wondered whether she regretted not having kept her promise more than she regretted having promised at all.
Visiting the prison where Christine's father was serving his sentence would be incredibly dangerous. Jane supposed she must have been thinking about it for days without acknowledging it consciously. She knew she would have to do what she had promised. If she didn't, the man would probably be so devastated by the loss of his daughter that he would find a way to kill himself. He was a middle-aged convict who apparently didn't have much left except his daughter.
Even years from now when he was out of jail he would never have a job as good as the ones he'd had, might never find a woman to love him, probably never even have friends who completely trusted him. Jane had promised Christine that at least this man would know that his daughter had not erased him from her life.
When the shower had soothed her and made her feel fully awake, she put on a bathrobe, and went downstairs to the kitchen. She made coffee, set the table for breakfast, took out eggs and butter and bread for toast, then went to the computer in the small office off the den and made flight reservations in the name Donna Ruggiero, then printed out the tickets and confirmations.
At five-fifteen she climbed the stairs to the bedroom and stood for a moment watching Carey sleep, then touched his shoulder to wake him. He opened his eyes, then gave a sigh and looked up at her, smiling. "I had a dream that we . .. Oh, yeah. I guess that wasn't a dream."