"What do you mean?" Callie asks.
Marilyn grins. "You could have been a crack whore. You could have given me up because you hated me. You could be dead. Trust me, this explanation is a lot easier to take."
These words seem to have an almost magical effect on Callie. I watch as color flows back into her skin, life back into her eyes. She sits up straighter. "Thanks for saying that." She pauses. Her eyes go back down to her lap. "I am sorry." God, she sounds woebegone. I just want to hug her.
Marilyn's eyes twinkle. Her voice chides. "Stop beating yourself up. Kind of makes sense, though."
Callie frowns. "How's that?"
"Well, look at me. Did you notice the baby? And the Ms., not Mrs., Gale?"
Callie's eyebrows lift. "You mean . . ."
Marilyn nods. "Yep. I had my own Billy Hamilton." Another shrug.
"But that's okay. He's gone, and I have Steven. It's more than a fair trade. My parents are supporting us and are going to make sure I get back and finish college." She smiles. "I like my life. It's turned out fine."
She leans forward, making sure Callie is looking at her. "You need to know that what you did, it didn't ruin me, okay?"
Callie sighs. Taps her fingers. Looks around the room, sips her water. Thinks about this. "Well, hell." She smiles. "It feels strange to be let off the hook so easily." She hesitates and reaches into her purse. "Want to see something?" she asks Marilyn. She pulls out the baby photo I had seen and hands it over.
Marilyn examines it. "That's me?"
"The day you were born."
"Wow, I sure was ugly." She looks up from the photo at Callie.
"You've carried this around with you since then?"
"Always."
Marilyn hands the photo back to Callie. Her eyes are gentle. What she says next is Callie, all the way.
"Gee, this is a real Lifetime made-for-TV moment, huh?"
Shocked silence, then we all burst into laughter.
It's going to be okay.
28
WE ARE UPSTAIRS, on Marilyn's computer, looking at the Red Rose site.
"I wish that was me," she says. "But trust me, it isn't." She smiles at Callie. "My boobs aren't that big. And I have stretch marks on my tummy."
"Simple cut and paste," Callie says. "Your face on the body of Ms. Topless." She runs a hand through her hair. "He did it just to mess with me. He even registered the domain to you. That's how we got this address--he led me here."
Marilyn turns away from the computer. "Am I in danger? Are we--
Steven and I--in danger?"
Callie doesn't reply right away. Weighing her words. "It's possible. I can't be sure. You don't fit his profile, but . . ."
"Serial killers are unpredictable."
"Yes."
Marilyn nods, thinking. I am surprised that she is not more fearful.
"This is almost enough to make me rethink my major."
Callie frowns. "What's your major?"
"Criminology."
Callie's mouth falls open. So does mine. "You're kidding."
"Nope. Weird, huh?" A lopsided grin. "Coincidence?" she says, sotto voce. "I think not!"
A smile ghosts across Callie's face. "Strange days, indeed."
"Most peculiar, Momma," Marilyn quips back, not missing the opening or the reference to the John Lennon song. They both laugh.
"I don't want to take any chances," Callie says, serious again. "I'm going to arrange for police protection until this is over."
Marilyn nods, accepting this. She's a mother; she's not going to turn the offer down. "You think it's going to be over at some point?"
Callie gives her a grim smile. It's filled with all kinds of promises for Jack Jr. "We're good, Marilyn." Callie points at me. "And she's the best. Bar none."
Marilyn looks me over. Examines my scars. "Is that true, Agent Barrett?"
"We'll get him," I say. I decide to leave it at that. Confident, without my own self-doubts. "We usually do. These guys almost always screw up. He will, and that will lead us to him."
Marilyn looks back and forth between us. Seems to accept this.
"What now?" she asks.
"Now," I say, "Agent Thorne is going to call the local police and set up a twenty-four-hour watch on your home. I'm going to call the team and let them know what's happening. They're probably all jumping out of their skins."
We make our calls. Alan's relief sounds visceral. Callie meets no resistance from the locals.
"They're on their way," she says.
I don't want to say it, but I have to. "We need to do the same once they arrive. We have to get back."
She hesitates, then nods. "I know." She turns to Marilyn, biting her lower lip. "Marilyn . . . can I . . ." She laughs, shaking her head. "This is all so surreal and bizarre, honey-love. But . . . can we get together again?"
Marilyn's smile is immediate. "Of course we can. On one condition."
"What's that?" Callie asks.
"You tell me your name. I can't call you 'Agent Thorne' forever."
We are sitting in the car. Callie hasn't started it yet. She is gazing at her daughter's house. I can't decipher her expression or guess at her thoughts.
So I ask the obvious question. "How are you?"
She continues to look off before turning to me. Her face is tired, but thoughtful.
"I'm . . . fine, honey-love. I'm not just saying it to reassure you. That went better than I had ever imagined. Or hoped. But it makes me wonder."
"About?"
"What they thought I was going to lose. They said they were going to make us each lose something. But I came out ahead. Do you think that's how they meant for it to go?"
I think about this. "No," I say. "I don't. I think they were convinced that she wouldn't accept you. I also think they were convinced that it would knock you off your game fatally."
She purses her lips. "I don't know about that. I agree with the first. But I don't think they were hoping I was going to be useless as a result of this. I think they were hoping just the opposite, in fact. I'm getting a feel for this one, honey-love. They don't want to be caught. But they do want to be hunted. And they want us at our best." She looks at me, a fierce look. "And do you know what? It worked. I won't quit now until we get them. That was the whole point of this for them, you understand? To let me know that she'll never be safe until we catch them."
Her words feel right to me. Callie has insight, gets the same little epiphanies that I do. It's part of what makes her good. I say the only thing that it makes sense to say.
"Then let's catch them."
29
IT TAKES FOREVER to get back. It was early afternoon by the time we left, and rush hour starts early in southern California. When we arrive in the office, everyone stands up, faces filled with expectancy.
"Don't ask, honey-loves," she says, putting up a hand. "Nothing to say right now." Her cell phone rings and she turns away to answer it. That Callie curtain has been closed again. I'm relieved, and I can tell the others are as well. It means that she's going to be fine. Everyone would be there for her in an instant, but seeing Callie vulnerable is unsettling. I wonder if this is part of the reason that she closed herself off again. Not so much for herself as for us.
Alan fills the silence. "I'm going through the case file on Annie again," Alan says. "Something's bothering me. Not sure what yet."
I nod, but I'm distracted. Or perhaps just tired. I look at my watch, and I'm shocked to see that it's near the end of the day. Not that the limits of our schedule are anything but theoretical. The stakes are too high, doing what we do. I always thought this must be what it's like to be in combat. When the bullets are flying, you shoot back, whatever time it is. And if you have an opportunity to advance on the enemy, you take it, whether it's four in the morning or four in the afternoon. The other parallel is that you take advantage of times of silence, the opportunities to rest, because you don't know when they'll come again. This seems to be one of those times, so I make the decision any good general should.