care of problems in his house immediately. If a light blew, he replaced it. If a faucet dripped, he re paired it himself or had it fixed right away. If a door sagged, he had it straightened. If you wait, he said, it’ll only get worse and you’ll have a bigger repair. Consequently, his house was always in order—though not necessarily always neat. He did have a high toler ance for paper clutter, especially on the dining room table, that bothered Diane. But the house always worked. Nothing was ever broken for long.
That’s what he was doing now. Fixing his home be fore the problem got worse. Frank’s arguments were never accusations or recriminations, not like her exhusband’s arguments. Frank’s were always about fixing things, sorting through things, getting to the bottom of things. He didn’t like to go to bed angry. But some times Diane thought it was best to let matters alone. Sometimes they did just fix themselves.
‘‘What was it about the situation you thought you could handle? Was it the gun in his hand, or the choke hold on the hostage?’’ said Frank.
Diane set her cup down. She hadn’t taken a sip either. Hot chocolate just didn’t fit her mood.
‘‘Look, Frank, do you really expect an answer to that? I did what I thought was right at the time. Was it the best thing? I don’t know. We’re all alive, no shots were fired, but we don’t have the perp, so I guess it’s just half and half.’’
‘‘Diane, I know the directors of several state crime labs, and none of them ever have the . . . the incidents that you do. Why is that?’’
‘‘I don’t know, Frank. I really don’t. Do you think it’s my fault Delamore attacked me?’’
‘‘Is that what you think this is about?’’ He wrinkled his brow. ‘‘Do you feel guilty over his death?’’
‘‘He died. Of course I feel guilty.’’
‘‘Don’t. The only difference between Delamore and a murderer is success. He was going to kill you.’’ Frank hesitated a moment. ‘‘It’s not Delamore you’re feeling guilty about, is it? It’s Ariel. It’s this time of year in particular; you feel like you have to save every one. Even if it means killing yourself. Isn’t that it?’’
Tears came to Diane’s eyes at the mention of Ariel. ‘‘I have no desire to die,’’ she said vehemently. ‘‘None.’’
‘‘But you do feel like you always have to take action. To stop things before they get worse,’’ said Frank.
Ariel was Diane’s adopted daughter. Actually the adoption
progress,
hadn’t gone completely through. It was in stuck in the slowness of bureaucracy. But the feelings Diane had for Ariel weren’t stuck in the process. Ariel was her daughter. She was her heart.
Ariel had simply shown up at the mission where Diane and her human rights team were staying in South America. She had walked out of the jungle—a toddler, dirty, but unhurt, nameless. All efforts to find parents or relatives were fruitless. It was a surprise to Diane that she decided to adopt Ariel. She never thought of herself as particularly motherly, but Ariel had brought that out.
She didn’t take her usual leaves of absence, but lived at the mission with Ariel, working out of there on her job with World Accord International. They had a good life until Diane became too successful at un covering the evil deeds of a particularly vile dictator. He retaliated by killing everyone at the mission while Diane and her team were away. She blamed herself for not just taking Ariel away, smuggling her out if the papers weren’t ready. She had the contacts to do it. But she was so involved in doing things the legal way, she didn’t even consider it. This month was the anniversary of the massacre, and it always made both her and David ache with the pain of their losses.
Frank was probably getting to the heart of why she did things the way she did. She didn’t take action then, but she would now. Always take action before things get worse—a subconscious code she lived by. Not so subconscious. Diane wanted to make her corner of the world safe for people to live in.
Tears ran down her cheeks. She looked up at the picture on the mantel of herself and Ariel in their mother- daughter outfits she’d ordered from the States. Frank took her hand, then pulled her to him.
‘‘Sometimes you have to let other people fix things,’’ he said.
‘‘Sometimes they don’t,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I waited for the government to issue Ariel’s adoption papers; they never did. Sometimes you have to do things yourself.’’
‘‘Let’s go to bed,’’ he said.
‘‘Good idea. I’m very tired.’’
Frank got up, closed the fireplace screen, and turned out the lights.
Diane dreamed of changing lightbulbs. All over the house she was changing out the bulbs one after the other. Even if they didn’t need it, she changed them anyway. She woke up with a start.
She looked at the clock. It was early. Frank was still asleep. He wasn’t driving into Atlanta until the cybergang case was concluded. His bosses were ex cited by the discoveries about the mayor and the gang. They smelled a big case about to burst wide open. They, like everyone else, wanted what was hidden on the computer. Diane was lying there thinking that maybe it was a red herring. She had heard by way of Izzy— Janice was talking to him—that nothing was found on the computers of Edgar Peeks. Just business. It was the mayor’s computer everyone had pinned their hopes on. It was the one that had the serious encryption.
Diane remembered she hadn’t asked Frank about the latest on his Black Light hacker. Who was he? It was a fragile link—a message they could see only with a black light. But it was a good one, a good circum stantial clue to add to all the other circumstantial clues they had stacking up but couldn’t verify.
Diane got out of bed and went to the kitchen to make pancakes. They were a favorite of Frank’s. Maybe they would make up for almost getting herself killed—repeatedly.
She had to call Vanessa. Diane wasn’t looking for ward to that. She had just got the crime lab back and already the ‘‘danger’’ clause of the contract was violated. Would it always be a risky venture? Frank was right. None of the other crime labs attracted so much danger. Was it because it was in the museum and not at a police station that perps felt safe trying to break in? Maybe she should move it away from the museum and resign as crime lab director.
