Tell her,Alex scrawled fast.
Kerri did, speaking quietly. She knewSasha’s story. Her heart pounded. This was something.
“The Winnie the Pooh ear stud was a giftfrom Sasha’s father, when she was fourteen. Her mother had died years before,and she loved her dad terribly. She was from a small town upstate, got ascholarship to NYU – which thrilled them – but when she came here her dad came too,saying he wanted the best for her but couldn’t bear being alone. He met a nicewoman, married her, then died at the end of Sasha’s junior year. She took ithorribly. Her stepmother said she’d worn the ear stud occasionally before that.Afterwards, she wore it a lot.”
Liddy listened, tears stinging. “So sad,” wasall she could manage.
“Yes.”
Liddy voice felt strangled. “But if I sawher, she must be alive.”
Silence at the other end, and then: “Butwhy would she give heartache to everyone who loved her? Her stepmother said shewouldn’t do that in a million years.”
“So did I see a ghost?” Liddy gripped herphone harder.
“I’ve got no answers. Except that your IDof the stud has me reeling. Who knows? Sometimes people have emotionalbreakdowns and just…lose it, go into hiding. Possibly Sasha is in yourneighborhood for some reason. Thanks for calling, you’re a sweet soul. Please definitelycall if anything else.”
Liddy hung up and sat, wiping her eyes withthe red T-shirt. Incongruously, not thinking at all, she whimpered, “I’m fromupstate too.” Then she inhaled, closed her eyes and thought, That’s it. Iremembered and my part is done. Get packing. Climb out of this.
At Kerri’s end, the ice cream and apple piehad turned to mush. They’d lost interest in it. Kerri stared at once-hot sugarygoo congealing as Alex scribbled notes.
“Ear stud?” he asked.
She explained that part of Liddy’sinterview.
“Whoa,” he said.
Kerri kept staring at the pie mush. “Idon’t know what to make of this.” Their shoulders were touching. She picked upher phone; stared at its screen holding Sasha’s picture of the Hudson. “Except…thefeeling just got stronger that everything points to this, like a compass needle.”
“So what next?” Alex was in his phone too, scrollingback, back, through Carl Finn’s Facebook posts.
“I want to know more about him.” Kerri tappedhis phone.
“Curious there’s no pics of Sasha.”
“She may have complained, which was herundoing. Or maybe – oh hell – maybe we’ve been making the wrong guess all alongbecause...” Kerri gripped her brow as if it hurt. Alex put his arm around her.
“I’m back to thinking of Ben Allen,” shesaid. “He recently broke up with his wife...infidelities abounding… RememberBecca saying she’d suspected maybe some guy with a jealous wife or girlfriend?”
On her phone Kerri showed Alex ShadowFace,enlarged from Becca’s selfie. “That look like any of those men?”
“Finn, I think, but still…”
“I know. Circumstantial.”
She leaned on his shoulder, closed her eyes.“My head hurts bad.”
He drew her closer, kissed her brow. “You’llthink of something,” he said quietly. “In the meantime…” He inhaled. Didn’tneed to say the words, they had been in the air since he’d walked in the door.
But they came out anyway. “Can I stay?”
The question evoked memories of waking up anxious,leaving separately (“sneaking out,” Kerri had called it), coming into the squadroom as if nothing, avoiding each other’s eyes so obviously that others guessed,then rumors spread and all hell broke loose. Cops were the worst gossips.
Kerri snickered as if something was funny.“No, you can’t stay. I have a headache.”
Alex rose, nodding. “We have to think.” Hisarm went back around her. “Get serious sleep, tackle these things with clearminds.”
At the door Kerri leaned into him,murmuring sorry about the headache.
He reached behind her neck, pulled free theribbon he’d tied there, and put it to his lips. “Mm, smells sweet.”
He kissed her again and left, holding theribbon.
22
Suddenly, things weremoving fast – exciting, really – with swept-away red teddy bears and the cryingyoung blonde pushed down under the tumult of movers coming and going and adining room table that wouldn’t fit in the padded freight elevator. By threeo’clock on Monday, August 18th, Liddy and Paul’s furniture was trucked to theloft. When the dust settled, Paul went to his lab while Beth and a workmanhelped Liddy set up her easel and draftsman table and art supplies in her newstudio with its shelves and blue-upholstered window seat and bright birch floor– Charlie Bass’s old floor had only needed a good polish. The alarm guy cametoo to wire the studio separately, so the top sash could open with the alarmstill on to let out toxic turpentine fumes.
They spent Monday night at The Mercer, ahip hotel with loft-like rooms and a four poster bed. On Tuesday, August 19th,they moved in officially to their new home. Paul kissed Liddy and left twohours later for his lab while she spent the rest of the day unpacking sheetsand towels and putting clothes in drawers and closets and then plates andglasses in the old Spanish armoire which looked wonderful in the kitchen.
Around six, a red-bowed Williams and Sonomaespresso machine with little cups arrived from Beth. Lab assistants sent a bigplant – ha - just what the place needed; another friend Ben Allen sent a nautical-themedlamp; and Carl Finn sent a carton of California champagne with a note that said,Here’s to this celebration and amazing celebrations ahead. Cheers to youboth on your great new adventure.
Now Liddy was happy – thrilled, actually. She’dgone three nights with good sleep and no nightmares. Paul had been practicallyeuphoric their celebratory night at the Mercer – he’d ordered champagne; hislove had been wild and driving – and that ebullient feeling carried over intothe chore of settling in. On the next day Liddy found a supermarket on Woosterand a bakery on Spring Street; hung pots and pans over their cook top; sprayedthe plants (no ghosts, oh joy), went out again and found a Victorian glass lampfor the living room. It wasn’t heavy, wrapped in its package, so Liddy browsedmore; stopped before Pete’s Old Books, and gazed into the window. There, nearthe front, was a
