Slow, Kerri decided, controlling herbreathing. Get a fix on this. Ask more.
“Do you remember what else this girl waswearing?”
Liddy’s finger was on her sketch, tappinglightly on the little stud she’d almost just identified; had only depicted in aquick, charcoal blur. “Just that pale T-shirt,” she said vaguely, lookingfrustrated. “I don’t remember what color it was.”
She looked up. “Was I right about the teddybear?”
Kerri smiled. “Close. Very close.”
“But not exact?”
“Not exact.”
Liddy felt defeated. Well, she’d been agood citizen, done all she could. She looked away and felt her heart speed up,wanting to say more but it would sound crazy. This was the most she could offer- a possible sighting, an address, and a not really identified piece of jewelry.She gave a regretful shrug; reached for her purse. “I’m sorry, that’s all I’vegot. It’s not much is it?”
Kerri’s eyes probed this woman who suddenlylooked torn; just sat in a conflicted-looking heap holding her purse limply. Hersketchbook lay forgotten on the desk.
“There’s more, isn’t there?” Kerri askedquietly, leaning forward. “Something else you want to tell me?”
Liddy rose; shook her head no but slowly,as if in turmoil. “That’s it, I’m afraid.” She picked up her sketchbook andstarted to move; hesitated; then turned with tight-lipped capitulation on herface.
“Have I seemed sane to you so far?”
“Yes.” Kerri smiled, her eyes soft.
The compulsion was building, building. Liddy’sheart beat hard and she couldn’t stand it another second. “Well, here’s whereyou will think me nuts because…” Her words tumbled. “I’ve been seeingthis girl…Sasha…even before I knew who she was. I’ve seen her in…crazy places,where mist condenses especially, like on the shower stall glass, or three hoursago on the window glass next to plants I sprayed.”
Ping!
A white, bright light went off in Kerri’shead, which was odd, because what her police mind should have thought was,Okay, yeah, crazy. Hallucinating, seeing what isn’t there. But the waterconnection did it, made her think this might really be something. If theyhadn’t been to Becca Milstein’s earlier…
She patted the chair Liddy had just left. “Sit,”she said gently, and Liddy did; looked relieved and dropped down again,slump-shouldered.
“The shower stall and plants?” Kerri prodded.
“I said I was crazy.”
“Crazy people don’t say they’re crazy. Tellme.”
Liddy gulped air and described because shewanted to, desperately. “Four days ago I thought I saw a girl’s face inthe mist on the shower glass; then today I saw the face again, next to thesehuge plants that were Charlie Bass’s. They’re close to a big window that facessouth, and the sun practically fries them so they need to be sprayed…” She exhaledhard. “See? Crazy.”
“Did the face appear before you sprayed theplants?”
“No. After. And today was more frighteningbecause the sun was angling in just right to make the hair seem blond – well, thewhole face glowed and seemed to be weeping, begging…you know, how condensationcoalesces and then seems to cry down tears? I was freaked and staring at itjust as my friend Beth called.”
“Did you tell her?”
“No. Don’t want her or my husband to worry,they’ve been through enough with my accident - from which I still haven’t exactlyrecovered.” A tear stung and Liddy wiped it. “I forget things, can’t remember…”
“Have you ever seen other things? Visions?”
“God no! Never. Beth is convinced I madeSasha Perry’s sketch from memory ‘cause I’d seen it in the hospital, internalizedit because it too was a trauma.” Liddy wiped her other eye almost angrily.Clearly felt embarrassed.
Subtly, Kerri tapped her index finger inthought. Something was coming together for her. Maybe, she thought, andleaned forward, heeding a hunch.
“The shower and the plants,” she said, lockinggazes with Liddy. “Both involve water.”
“I guess.”
“Do you swim? Do water sports?”
Liddy seemed surprised. “Yes. I was on aswimming team as a kid, and my husband has a boat.”
“Here in New York?”
“Yes. Docked at the 79th StreetBoat Basin. We haven’t been able to use it because of my accident – that was onJune 3rd. And we didn’t use it much before that this year because myhusband works long hours, and now it’s for sale because we’re shiftingfinances.” Liddy’s face worried. “You think water’s some kind of connection?”
“Could be. When people experience trauma it’sthe familiar things that go kablooey.” Kerri watched Liddy’s reaction to that; seemto find a little comfort. Then she asked, casually, “What’s your husband’sname, by the way? What does he do?”
Those dark eyes looked worn out, unguarded.“Paul Barron and he’s a neuroscientist. Researches and teaches at NYU. Mostlyresearches now.” Liddy seemed to re-think something and gave a start, leanedforward urgently.
“I’d die if he knew I came here.”
“He won’t.”
“He’s pure logic, thinks I’m toocreative. We’re so different - I’m visual, he just sees facts. These crazyvisions I’ve told you…if he heard about it-”
“He won’t.” Kerri reached and gave Liddyher card. “It was good of you to come. Please call if there’s anything else. I’dalso like to call you if that’s alright.”
Liddy nodded and gave her cell phonenumber. Kerri thanked; smiled gently. “Do you have medications to help you?”
Liddy stood, gathered up her things. “Yes. Mildtranquilizers and a nice shrink who’s helping me through my whatever-it-is.PTSD, sort of, with a dash of amnesia.” She looked pained again; inhaled. “Ithought coming here would help. Get this off my chest.”
“Has it helped?” Kerri rose and held outher hand.
“I don’t know.” Liddy shook wearily, mumbleda jumble of thanks, and left.
14
It didn’t help.
The apartment seemed oppressive,claustrophobic. The old apartment was how Liddy now thought of it,turning on a lamp. Filled Bekins boxes ready for the movers crammed the livingroom. She kicked one of them. Out popped one of Paul’s tennis balls, bonkingand clunking across the floor, a weird, echoing sound. She wove through moreboxes and so much stuff – antiques and curios they’d collected nowcrowding the room. She lit another lamp, but the room was still full ofshadows. After Soho, so silent.
At least it smelled of turpentine, which meanthome to her, although soon, soon, a real studio with a real north light. Thethought lifted her spirits a bit.
By the window was her “temporary studio.”That’s what Paul called it, trying to
