Flight

talked Hitch into going over there. It got worse and worse by the minute. The more I heard, the more I kept hoping I’d wake up from this nightmare.”

She paused and cradled her forehead in the palm of one hand. “I was so scared for Phil — I think some part of me knew that something horrible had happened to him. But I didn’t want to believe that, so I kept telling myself, ‘Phil will straighten all of this out. They’ll reach Phil at Matt’s house. He’ll be there by now.’ But he wasn’t. And Matt was lying to them, but I didn’t know why.”

“Why did he lie?”

“He didn’t know what to believe, but he knew something had gone wrong — terribly wrong — for Phil. Me, at first I kept my hopes up. Not Matt. Matt didn’t know who to trust inside the department, and he didn’t have enough to go on to take it to someone outside the department. Later he tried, but no one would take him up on it. Phil looked too guilty.”

“So that night Lefebvre’s gone, and you’re hearing that Matt has denied that Lefebvre planned to visit him?”

“Right. At first, I thought it was because Phil was there and Matt was keeping him safe until he could get an attorney or some proof that he was innocent. I didn’t dare call Matt, and he didn’t dare call me. That went on for a couple of days until Matt finally got a letter to me through the mailbox.”

“The mailbox?”

“Phil got his mail at a private mailbox — at one of those mailbox stores. It took our department sleuths a while to figure that out.”

“Okay, now I remember reading something about this in the case file. A place called Mail Call?”

“Right. Earlier in the day, Phil and I had figured out an arrangement so that we could keep in touch by mail if things really started going wrong — we just hadn’t imagined how wrong they could go. So he set things up at Mail Call that afternoon, and I stopped by there before I went into work that night and picked up two keys — a key to his box and a key to a second box that was in both our names, where he would send messages to me if phones became too risky. He told Matt we would be doing this.”

“I take it the owner of this Mail Call place didn’t tell all of this to the detectives who questioned him about Phil’s mailbox?”

“No. First, the detectives showed up with a very specific court order — naming only the box number Phil had on his own. Second, they came in with an attitude, so he wasn’t cooperative. But I don’t think he would have been cooperative no matter how sweet they were, because he had a good reason to be loyal to Phil. He was one of the people at the funeral today, although he didn’t speak. Phil met the guy while working on a case — the man’s daughter had been killed by her ex-husband. The only reason the ex didn’t walk was because Phil caught the case and just wouldn’t let go.”

“So how much of Phil’s mail got delivered to your mailbox?”

She smiled a little. “You know, I’m surprised you figured that out. Those dumb asses who worked this case before you never did. How much? A lot of it. There wasn’t a heck of a lot of mail for those guys to paw through. The owner of Mail Call was smart enough to give them the bills, figuring that was probably how they found out about the box in the first place — looking up his credit records. Everything else came my way before the LPPD saw it. Didn’t help me, though. The one letter I kept waiting for never came.”

“But you heard from Matt.”

“At first, I wasn’t sure if I was hearing from Phil, or Matt, or both. I got a postcard, addressed to me, but the message area was blank. On the other side was a photo of some chrysanthemums. You know—”

Frank groaned. “Mum’s the word.”

“I had the same reaction, but I had been so anxious, there wasn’t much humor in it for me. I was so angry and upset about Seth, too — Seth Randolph, I mean. I wasn’t as close to him as Phil was, but I had spent a lot of time with him, too. We had found him that night, and Phil saved his life, and Seth had struggled to live. So it was… it was painful to lose him. I liked Seth.”

Enough to name your son after him, Frank thought, but let her brood in silence.

After a while, she said, “So about three days into all of this, my nerves were shot. The first night I made the mistake of saying to Hitch, ‘I don’t believe Phil would kill that boy,’ and I got this rant from him that convinced me that I had better keep my mouth shut. And then… then I found that someone had gone through my desk. And I remembered that it had happened to Phil, that someone had gone through his desk.”

Seth chose that moment to open the apartment door again. “Mom!” he said, making it a complaint.

“Don’t blame your mom,” Frank said. “It’s my fault we’re still out here talking.”

Seth gestured to him to hurry in.

In Seth’s presence, Elena’s stiffness of manner returned. In a low voice, she said, “You do anything to bring him into harm’s way…”

Frank turned toward her and said, “What exactly do you take me for?”

“Mom!” Seth said again, more insistently.

Frank heard Yvette Nereault say something in French to her nephew, and Seth immediately apologized to his mother. “But I’ve been waiting forever!” he muttered, casting a glance back at his aunt. As if to make up for this small rebellion, he politely asked Frank if he could take his jacket and if he would like something to drink. Frank accepted an offer of coffee before Seth led him to the sofa, then sat beside him.

“It is past noon — you must be hungry, Detective Harriman,” Yvette said. “Seth would probably enjoy it if you stayed for lunch.”

Elena did not hide her look of consternation. Seth looked at him hopefully and said, “Can you?”

“Sure, if it’s not too much trouble—”

“Not at all!” Yvette said. “Elena and I will fix you something to eat.” She turned to Seth and said sternly, “Do not plague him with questions.” With that, she dragged a reluctant Elena off toward the kitchen.