"Tell me again," Kelly said. "The reason you think Miss Baldwin is missing is because of the interrupted telephone call and the blood you found in the slaughterhouse?"
"Exactly," Kim repeated.
"And you told all this to the police who arrested you?" Kelly asked.
"Of course," Kim said. "But they didn't believe me."
"And I can see why," Kelly said silently to herself. All at once she stood up. "Excuse me, Dr. Reggis," she said out loud. "I'm afraid we're going around in circles. This is all hearsay and therefore smoke and mirrors as far as I'm concerned. I'd like to help you, but I can't at the moment, at least not until you have something tangible, something that a story could be based on."
Kim pushed himself up off the low couch. He could feel his anger returning, but he fought against it. Although he didn't agree with Kelly's position, he had to admit he understood, and the realization only renewed his determination. "All right," Kim said resolutely. "I'll get something substantive, and I'll be back."
"You do that," Kelly said, "and I'll do the story."
"I'm going to hold you to that," Kim said.
"I always keep my word," Kelly said. "Of course, I have to be the one who decides if the evidence is sufficient."
"I'll make sure there're no ambiguities," Kim said.
Kim exited the house and ran down to his car parked at the curb. He wasn't running because of the rain, although it had increased in intensity while he had been in the Anderson house. He was running because he'd already decided what he was going to do to satisfy Kelly's need for proof. It wasn't going to be easy, but Kim didn't care. He was a man with a mission.
Kim made a U-turn and stomped on the accelerator. He didn't notice Kelly standing in the doorway of her house or see her shake her head one final time as he sped away.
As soon as Kim made it onto the freeway he punched in Tracy 's phone number on his cellular phone.
"Trace." Kim said with no preamble when she answered. "Meet me at the mall."
There was a pause. At first Kim thought the connection had been broken. Just when he was about to resend the call, Tracy 's voice came over the line: "I took you at your word. I've made arrangements for a funeral service."
Kim sighed. At times he was able to put Becky entirely out of his mind. Thank God for Tracy. She was so strong. How could he face this tragedy without her?
"Thank you," he said at last. It was hard to find the words. "I appreciate your doing it without me."
"It will be at the Sullivan Funeral Home on River Street," Tracy said. "And it will be on Tuesday."
"That's fine," Kim said. He just couldn't bring himself to think too long or hard about it. "I'd like you to meet me at the mall."
"Don't you want to hear the rest of the details?" Tracy asked.
"At the moment, meeting me at the mall is more important," Kim said. He hoped he didn't sound too cold. "Then I'd like to ask if you'd come back with me to our old house."
"How can going to the mall be more important than our daughter's funeral?" Tracy asked with exasperation.
"Trust me," Kim said. "You can give me the details of the arrangements when I see you."
"Kim, what's going on?" Tracy asked. She sensed an excited anticipation in his voice.
"I'll explain later," Kim said.
"Where at the mall?" Tracy asked with resignation. "It's a big place."
"Connolly Drugs," Kim said. "Inside the store."
"When?" Tracy asked.
"I'm on my way," Kim said. "Get there as soon as you can."
"It will take me more than a half hour," Tracy said. "And you know they close at six tonight."
"I know," Kim said. "That's plenty of time"
Tracy hung up the phone. She wondered if she was hurting Kim more than she was helping him by having let him avoid participating in the funeral arrangements. But she didn't have much time to dwell on it just then.
Despite their bitter divorce, thinking about Kim brought out the mother in Tracy. She found herself wondering when Kim had eaten last. She knew she wasn't hungry, but guessed it would be best if they both had something. So before leaving for the mall, Tracy threw some food into a bag and carried it out to the car.
On the way to the mall, Tracy decided that she would insist that Kim participate in finalizing the plans for Becky's service. It would be best for both of them.
Since it was late afternoon on a cold, rainy Sunday, there was no traffic, and Tracy made it to the mall faster than she estimated. Even the parking area was relatively empty. It was the first time Tracy had ever been able to get a spot within a few steps of the main entrance.
Inside, the mall was more crowded than she expected given the number of cars outside. Just beyond the door she was confronted by a group of senior citizens bearing down on her while doing their version of power-walking. Tracy had to step into the lip of a shop for a moment to avoid being trampled. Walking on to the center of the mall, she assiduously avoided looking at the skating rink for fear of the memories it would invariably evoke.
Connolly Drugs was as busy as ever, particularly at the prescription counter where there were upwards of twenty people waiting. Tracy made a rapid trip around the store but didn't see Kim. On a slower transit, she located him in the hair-products section. He was carrying a box containing a pair of hair clippers and a bag from one of the mall's trendy clothing stores.
"Ah, Tracy," Kim said. "Just in time. I want you to help me pick out a hair rinse. I've decided to go blond."
Tracy lifted her hands onto her hips and regarded her former husband with bewilderment. "Are you all right?" she asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Kim said. He was preoccupied looking at the panoply of hair products.
"What do you mean you want to go blond?" Tracy asked.
"Just what I said," Kim asserted. "And not just dirty blond. I want to be very blond."
"Kim, this is crazy," Tracy said. "You have to know it. And if you don't, I'm even more worried."
"There's nothing to worry about," Kim said. "I'm not decompensating if that's what you think. All I want to do is disguise myself. I'm going undercover."
Tracy reached out and gabbed Kim by the shoulder to steady him. She leaned forward, suddenly transfixed by his earlobe. "What's this?" she questioned. "You're wearing an earring!"
"I'm pleased you noticed," Kim said. "I had a little time before you got here, so I got an earring. I thought it was sufficiently out of character. I also got a leather outfit." He held up the shopping bag.
"What are the hair clippers for?" Tracy asked.
"Those are for you to give me a haircut," Kim said.
"I've never cut anyone's hair," Tracy said. "You know that."
"That doesn't matter," Kim said with a smile. "I'm aiming for a skinhead look."
"This is bizarre," Tracy complained.
"The more bizarre, the better," Kim said. "I don't want to be recognized."
"Why?" Tracy asked.
"Because I visited Kelly Anderson," Kim said. "And she refuses to lend us her investigative journalistic skills until I supply her with some incontrovertible proof."
"Proof of what?" Tracy asked.
"Proof of the allegations Kathleen Morgan and Marsha Baldwin made about the meat industry and the USDA."
"And how is a disguise going to help you do that?" Tracy asked.
"It's going to help me get a job," Kim said. "Marsha Baldwin told me slaughterhouses like Higgins and Hancock don't allow visitors, but she suggested I could get a job, especially if I were an illegal alien. I don't mean to say I'm trying to look like an illegal alien, just some marginal member of society who needs to earn some money."
"I can't believe this," Tracy said. "You mean you are going to go into Higgins and Hancock to try to get a job after someone tried to kill you in there?"
"I'm hoping the employment officer and the man with the knife are two different people," Kim said.