“And she didn’t sleep much last night. You really want her driving five hours alone? We’d be back tomorrow around noon. Not a big deal.”
“I’ll decide what’s a big deal and what’s not. Of course I don’t want Karen driving herself. Hell, I don’t want her going because I need her.” He dropped his eyes to the report. “But that’s just the way it is.”
“Well, then this is the way this is: I’m taking some personal time. You don’t like it, take it up with my sergeant.”
Bledsoe felt the blood rushing to his head as Robby turned and walked out. Tossed the file across the room, took a deep breath, then leaned on the table. “Beautiful.”
ROBBY JOINED VAIL outside by her car. “Well?”
“We’re good,” Robby said. “Let’s go.”
She hiked her brow. “Bledsoe is full of surprises.”
“We’ll be back tomorrow at noon. Not a big deal.”
They took Robby’s car and headed up I-95 before switching onto I-495 toward Baltimore. They drove in silence for the first couple hours, which was fine by Vail, since she needed the quiet, and Robby was determined to keep his promise of giving her space. Finally, she fell asleep with her head against the side window and slept until they neared the Queens Midtown Tunnel.
Vail sat up and rubbed her eyes, then looked around. “How long have I been out?” It was dark and the lights of nearby Manhattan twinkled in the early evening haze.
“Couple of hours. We’re making good time.”
“Sorry I abandoned you. The lull of the highway put me out.”
“Figured you needed it.”
She pulled down the visor and peered into the mirror. “I look awful.”
“You never did get back to your place, did you?”
“I’m looking forward to a long shower at my mom’s.”
The traffic slowed a bit as they approached the tunnel. Getting through the city wasn’t as bad as they had thought, and half an hour later they were driving down the street where Emma Vail lived. Vail thought of how long it’d been since she had last been here. Too long. Worst of all, her mother hadn’t visited her, either, meaning they hadn’t seen each other in over a year.
“There,” she said, pointing to a house sunken below street level. “My best friend lived there. Andrea. We used to play together all the time. Drove our parents crazy.”
Robby slowed the car. “Eight nineteen, you said?”
“Yeah, right here.”
He pulled the car into the driveway and killed the lights. “Looks pretty dark,” he said, craning his neck. “Did you give her an idea of what time we’d be here?”
Vail opened the door and took in a lungful of the fresh night air. “I never called.”
Robby got out of the car and looked at her across the roof. “Your mom doesn’t know we’re coming?”
She strained to see the house in the dark. Partially obscured by the tree-canopied setting she associated with Old Westbury, the two-story Craftsman style house fit in perfectly amongst the tall pines and cedars. Vail walked up the path, stepping on each flagstone square as she went, just like she did when she was a kid. One step, one stone. “You can’t put two feet on one square or it’s bad luck,” she told Robby. “At least, that’s what I thought when I was a kid.”
She stepped onto the last flagstone and found herself at the front door. The tarnished brass knocker was still there, along with the rusted black metal mailbox.
She knocked a couple times and waited. Brushed a few hairs into place and curled a wisp behind her right ear. Lifted the brass weight and struck the door again, waited, then consulted her watch.
“Should’ve called,” Robby said.
The porch light suddenly popped on and the curtain to their right parted. The door opened a crack and an older woman with gray hair and a rumpled face appeared. “Yes?”
“Mom, it’s me.” Still no response. “Kari.”
The door opened halfway and Emma squinted at her daughter. “Kari,” she said. “Did you forget something?”
Vail looked at Robby, who merely shrugged.
Emma’s eyes flicked over to Robby.
“Oh, this is my friend, Robby Hernandez.”
Robby bowed his head. “Glad to meet you, ma’am.”
“Ma’am? Please, call me Emma. And come in out of the cold. I need to close the door, we’re letting the heat out.”
They walked through the barren entryway toward the living room. Emma turned on a couple of lamps and sat down stiffly on the edge of a plush gold chair. The house was half a century old and looked it: worn cocoa-rust carpet, tan walls, and threadbare furniture.
Vail sat on the sofa beside Robby. Her mother looked thin, the kind of unhealthy thin that accompanied a debilitating disease, like cancer. Her face had more wrinkles and the skin on her neck hung as if it had finally given up the decades-long fight against gravity’s pull.
“Do you work in my daughter’s office? The FBI? She works for the FBI, you know.”
Robby smiled. “I’m a detective, with the police department. I’m working with Karen on a case.”
“Well, I’ve got a case for you right here. A real who-done-it. Someone keeps stealing things from me. First it was a book I was reading, then it was my glasses. I have a good mind to call the police. Stupid neighborhood kids.”
Vail glanced around. Everything appeared to be in order, from what she could tell in the dim lighting. “Did you leave the door open? Do you think someone’s been in the house?”
“I hear noises,” Emma said, her hands fumbling in her lap, “but I’ve never seen anyone.”
Vail looked at Robby. “We’ll take a look around, make sure all the locks work, okay?”
“Well, enough about me. Tell me, how’s Deacon?”
Vail swallowed hard. “We’re getting divorced, Ma.”
“Divorced? What happened?”
Vail’s face was stone. The progression of her mother’s Alzheimer’s had been far more pronounced than she had thought. During their last couple conversations, Emma had been distant and harried. But clearly it was more serious.
“Ma,” Vail said, “we’ve talked about the divorce. Don’t you remember?”
Emma’s face flickered for a moment, then she turned to Robby. “Oh, I’ve been a terrible hostess. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Emma Vail.”
Robby forced a smile. “Robby Hernandez.”
“Are you a friend of Kari’s?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Ma’am?” She waved a hand. “Oh, please. Call me Emma.” She turned to Vail, whose eyes were tearing. “What’s wrong, Kari?”
“Nothing, Mom. Nothing.” She stood and took Robby’s hand. “I’m going to show Robby around, okay?”
“Whatever you’d like, dear,” Emma said.
Vail flipped on the large backyard spots and low-voltage path lights. “I knew this day was coming, I just hoped it’d be later rather than sooner. I figured she had a few years before it got this bad.” She took a deep breath of the pine-scented air, then swung her head around and looked inside to see her mother still sitting on the couch, just as they had left her. “I need to get her some help, or move her out. I don’t know what would be best.”
Robby took her hand and led her through the wooded yard. While the house was small—cozy, Emma had once called it—the land was not: two full acres of mature pines. They walked for a moment in silence.
“I remember the brown needles crunching under my sneakers when I was a teenager. I used to come back here to clear my mind. Sometimes I’d find a bed of needles and take a nap. If they weren’t so damp, I’d lie down right now and fall asleep. Dream of happier times.” She bent down and scooped up a handful. “My mom taught me
