“Call me when you know more.”
Slamming the receiver, I leaned back and closed my eyes.
Images skittered through my mind.
Eyes devoid of caring, irises swallowed by drug-dazed pupils.
Gideon Banks’s tortured face, Geneva hovering silent in a doorway.
Charred and fragmented baby bones.
I thought of my daughter.
Infant Katy in soft, footed pj’s. Toddler Katy in pink ruffled swimsuit, chubby feet splashing in a plastic pool. Young woman Katy in shorts and tank, long brown legs pushing a front porch swing.
Scenes of normalcy. Scenes in which Tamela’s baby would never have a part.
Needing something, but unsure what, I reached for the phone and dialed my daughter. Her roommate answered.
Lija thought Katy had gone to Myrtle Beach with Palmer Cousins, wasn’t sure because she’d been away herself.
Was Katy answering her cell phone?
No.
I hung up, feeling scared.
Wasn’t Katy working as a temporary receptionist at Pete’s firm? This was Tuesday.
Didn’t Cousins have a job to go to?
Cousins. What was it about the guy that made me uneasy?
Thinking about Cousins brought me back to Aiker.
Back to the box.
Paw your way out.
I began typing random ideas onto the screen.
Premise: The Lancaster remains and the privy remains were one person.
Deduction: That person is not Brian Aiker.
Deduction: That person is not Charlotte Grant Cobb. DNA testing confirmed that the Lancaster remains were male.
Slidell’s DOA comment had me angry and on edge. Was I being unfair to him? Maybe. Still, I kept losing my train of thought.
Or was it anxiety over my daughter?
It was Slidell. The man was a bigoted, homophobic cretin. I thought about his tactless treatment of Geneva and Gideon Banks. I thought about his insensitive digs at Lawrence Looper and Wally Cagle. What was that metaphoric quagmire about sleeping in tents and buying undies? Or his pearl concerning gender roles? Oh, yeah. Nature throws the dice, you stick with the toss. Embryonic brilliance.
Outside the cube.
What appeared to be coke turned out to be goldenseal.
What appeared to be leprosy turned out to be sarcoidosis.
Another Slidellism: Things ain’t always what they seem. Or was that a Tyreeism?
Outside the four squares.
An idea. Improbable, but what the hell.
I went to my purse, pulled out the card I’d taken from under Cagle’s blotter, and dialed.
“South Carolina Law Enforcement Division,” a female voice answered.
I made my request.
“Hold, please.”
“DNA.” Another female voice.
I read the name from the card.
“He’s out this week.”
I thought for a moment.
“Ted Springer, please.”
“Who’s calling?”
I identified myself.
“Hold on.”
Seconds passed. A minute.
