'No problem. We're leaving,' I said.
'They can stay, Maxine. Really, it's okay,' JoLynn said.
But JoLynn was obviously exhausted and in pain.
Kate stood. 'I agree with—' She squinted at the name tag pinned to Norman's olive-colored scrub top. 'I agree with Nurse Norman. We can come back another time.'
Norman said, 'I know these other two clowns, but who are you?'
She smiled sweetly. 'Dr. Kate Rose, a clinical psychologist consulting on this case at Mr. Richter's request. Can we call you about when might be a good time to visit JoLynn again?'
Kate's manner, which included her willingness to consult with Norman first, had an amazing effect.
Norman actually cracked a smile. 'Our baby doll is doing much better. Just let my patient get more pain medicine in her system and a little rest and she'll be fine. Y'all can come back tomorrow.'
Back at my house after the hospital visit, Cooper and Kate huddled together and worked on some kind of todo list concerning the case—which probably included pressuring the phone company to release the requested information on the landline at Magnolia Ranch. I knew this because Cooper grumbled all the way to my place about how slow they'd been to cooperate.
I hadn't heard from DeShay about getting in touch with Officer Shauna Anthony and was about to search for her on Switchboard.com when Jeff called. He said he e-mailed me the completed police sketch, since he and Doris wouldn't be by the house until later tonight. Doris had her Saturday chores to do—things like laundry and cleaning her room. Jeff always spent time alone with Doris on his weekends off, and not out of guilt, like when he'd first brought her to live with him. He loved her, wanted to care for her. And that made me think of Elliott Richter. Same story, different version.
I hung up and hurried to my computer. I opened the e-mail attachment and printed out a few copies of the police-artist sketch, once again amazed at the picture. Unfortunately, this man's face was seared into my brain now and something else was going on in my head. This face bothered me and not only because of what he'd done. What was it?
I heard the
It was Officer Anthony's phone number and address. I phoned her right away and told her who I was and what I needed. She preferred we meet in person to discuss an old case. She told me, 'People want to e-mail and yak on their cell phones all day long, but I never liked that when I was working. Face-to-face is my way. Besides, I can speak to you much more coherently that way. I have some concentration problems. You'll understand when you get here.'
She gave me directions and I left my office. In the living room, Kate and Cooper were deep in conversation.
I cleared my throat and they both looked my way. 'Officer Anthony wants to meet in person. Cooper, you want to come along?'
'Not a good time, Abby. I finally found someone who could make things happen at the phone company. She promised to e-mail the Richter phone records to your computer. Take good notes, though.'
Did the man not notice in the last week that I'm not the one walking around with a notebook in my pocket? But maybe he wasn't noticing anything but Kate right now, and waiting on those phone records was a great excuse to hang around her. No problem there. Not at all. I was happy to leave them alone.
After the events of this past week, I sure didn't want to be tailed. Staying away from the freeways made rearview paranoia far less stressful—far fewer cars to deal with. The drive to Anthony's retirement community—a gated neighborhood west of the 610 Loop, with welltended lawns and small brick homes—took a good thirty minutes longer than it might have.
I navigated the treelined road that wound around a golf course and passed the community pool. Since it was close to six p.m., and the hottest part of the day was over, the chaise lounges and umbrella tables were filled with men and women who'd probably saved their pen nies to live here among the pines. No one looked under sixty.
That's why I was surprised when Shauna Anthony answered the door, supported by a cane. This woman couldn't be older than late forties, early fifties.
'Abby Rose,' I said. 'Thank you so much for seeing me right away.'
The woman's skin told me she was black and yet her beautiful dark eyes indicated she might have Asian blood, too. And then I noticed a golden retriever sitting like a statue behind her.
'Aren't you a pretty young thing?' Shauna said. 'I would have come to you, but I don't drive much anymore. Come in and meet Oliver.'
But Oliver's concern was for his mistress, not meeting a stranger. Shauna hobbled around to face the other direction and the dog was close by her side as she slowly made her way through the tile foyer to a living room beyond. I passed a riding scooter, much nicer than what I was used to seeing in the supermarkets. I remembered Penny mentioning health issues. Looked like they were pretty big ones.
Two brocade wing chairs flanked a low, round oak table. A tray with a pitcher of iced tea and two glasses sat there along with a floral china dish of shortbread cookies. Slices of lemon gleamed in the sweating pitcher, and a bowl of sugar and spoons completed this welcome.
The dog hovered near Shauna, eyes on her face. She said, 'I'm fine, Oliver. Would you mind pouring the tea, Abby? My hands aren't obeying my commands today. Damn MS steals your life inch by inch.'
Shauna—she'd insisted on the phone that's what I should call her—settled onto the leather sofa facing the wing chairs and Oliver pressed close to her legs. After I fixed us both tea and eyed the cookies hungrily without taking one, I sat across from her.
'I'm not always like this,' Shauna said. 'I'm in a flare-up right now.'
'I—I didn't know. We could meet another time or—'
'No. It's rare for me to be on the giving end of anything these past two years. Seems all I can do is take from others now. My friend next door fixed the tea and if you don't eat her cookies, she'll be offended.' Shauna smiled.
'I'll have a couple to go,' I said with a smile.
Shauna said, 'That's a promise.' She then pointed my way. 'Visit Abby, Oliver.'
The dog came over and sat in front of me, head cocked, liquid brown eyes on my face.
I petted his silky soft head. 'What a beautiful animal.'
'Oliver has been a godsend,' she said. 'He's always close. Even knows how to bring me my cell or the other phone if I fall down.'
My gaze fell on a photograph on the end table to Shauna's right. I was guessing the black man and the Asian woman in the picture were her parents. The man wore an HPD uniform.
Shauna caught me staring and said, 'He was shot by a crackhead on the east side ten years ago. Died at the scene. My mother took her own life six months later.'
I swallowed hard and managed to utter those inadequate words, 'I'm so sorry.'
'Don't be. They both made choices, choices they left me to live with. I'm okay with it all now. MS is good for something. It's taught me that most bad things that happen are not my fault. My father's murder and my mother's suicide? Those horrible events were out of my control. And getting MS? Not my choice, either.'
Choice, control and loss. That's what this case had been all about and still was. And here was someone who knew a great deal about those things. 'If you get tired,' I said, 'let me know. I can come back.'
'Your line of work is adoption inquiries, right?' Oliver returned to her side and rested his head in her lap.
'Yes,' I said with a smile. 'Did you check me out after I called?'
'You don't think I'd let any old stranger walk into my house and ask me about my job?'
I should have known. Once a cop, always a cop. 'You worked with CPS on several cases?' I said.
'True. Funny how a woman who never married and who never had kids would be suited to that job. Guess I didn't feel obligated to take them all home like some other officers I knew. Is this about an adoption that took place after we removed an abused child from a home?' She looked at Oliver and patted the sofa beside her. The dog jumped up beside her and lay down.
'No, this is about something else. Do you recall picking up a nine-year-old girl from the bus station over a
