'Your lovely volunteer never mentioned that she had a daughter, did she?'
I said nothing.
'Carly is twelve years old now. And no, I don't know who the father is. I don't think Sheila did either.'
'I don't understand,' I said.
She reached into her purse and took out a picture. She handed it to me. It was one of those newborn hospital shots. A baby wrapped in a blanket, new eyes blinking out, unseeing. I flipped it over. The handwriting said 'Carly.' The date of birth was written under it.
My head began to spin.
'The last time Sheila called me was on Carly's ninth birthday,' she said. 'And I spoke to her myself. Carly, that is.'
'So where is she now?'
'I don't know,' Edna Rogers said. 'That's why I'm here, Will. I want to find my granddaughter.'
25
When I stumbled back home, Katy Miller was sitting by my apartment door, her knapsack between her splayed legs.
She scrambled to her feet. 'I called but…'
I nodded.
'My parents,' Katy told me. 'I just can't stay in that house another day. I thought maybe I could crash on your couch.'
'It's not a good time,' I said.
'Oh.'
I put the key in the door.
'It's just that I've been trying to put it together, you know. Like we said. Who could have killed Julie. And I started wondering. How much do you know about Julie's life after you two broke up?'
We both stepped inside the apartment. 'I don't know if now is a good time.'
She finally saw my face. 'Why? What happened?'
'Someone very close to me died.'
'You mean your mother?'
I shook my head. 'Someone else close to me. She was murdered.'
Katy gasped and dropped the knapsack. 'How close?'
'Very.'
'A girlfriend?'
'Yes.'
'Someone you loved?'
'Very much.'
She looked at me.
'What? 'I said.
'I don't know, Will. It's like someone murders the women you love.'
The same thought I'd earlier pushed away. Vocalized, it sounded even more ridiculous. 'Julie and I broke up more than a year before her murder.'
'So you were over her?'
I did not want to travel that route again. I said, 'What about Julie's life after we broke up?'
Katy fell onto the couch the way teenagers do, as if she had no bones. Her right leg was draped over the arm, her head back with the chin tilted up. She wore ripped jeans again and another top that was so tight it looked like the bra was on the outside. Her hair was tied back in a pony-tail. A few of the strands fell loose and onto her face.
'I started thinking,' she said, 'if Ken didn't kill her, someone else did, right?'
'Right.'
'So I started looking into her life at the time. You know, calling old friends, trying to remember what was going on with her, that kind of thing.'
'And what did you find?'
'That she was pretty messed up.'
I tried to focus on what she was saying. 'How so?'
She dropped both legs to the floor and sat up. 'What do you remember?'
'She was a senior at Haverton.'
'No.'
'No?'
'Julie dropped out.'
That surprised me. 'You're sure?'
'Senior year,' she said. Then she asked, 'When did you last see her, Will?'
I thought about it. It had indeed been a while. I told her so.
'So when you broke up?'
I shook my head. 'She ended it on the phone.'
'For real?'
'Yes.'
'Cold,' Katy said. 'And you just accepted that?'
'I tried to see her. But she wouldn't let me.'
Katy looked at me as though I'd just spouted the lamest excuse in the history of mankind. Looking back on it, I guess maybe she was right. Why hadn't I gone to Haverton? Why hadn't I demanded to meet face-to-face?
'I think,' Katy said, 'Julie ended up doing something bad.'
'What do you mean?'
'I don't know. Maybe that's going too far. I don't remember much, but I remember she seemed happy before she died. I hadn't seen her that happy in a long time. I think maybe she was getting better, I don't know.'
The doorbell rang. My shoulders slumped at the sound. I was not much in the mood for more company. Katy, reading me, jumped up and said, 'I'll get it.'
It was a deliveryman with a fruit basket. Katy took the basket and brought it back into the room. She dropped it on the table. 'There's a card,' she said.
'Open it.'
She plucked it out of the tiny envelope. 'It's a condolence basket from some of the kids at Covenant House.' She pulled something from an envelope. 'A mass card too.'
Katy kept staring at the card.
'What's the matter?'
Katy read it again. Then she looked up at me. 'Sheila Rogers?'
'Yes.'
'Your girlfriend's name was Sheila Rogers?'
'Yeah, why?'
Katy shook her head and put down the card.
'What is it?'
'Nothing,' she said.
'Don't give me that. Did you know her?'
'No.'
'Then what is it?'
'Nothing.' Katy's voice was firmer this time. 'Just drop it, okay?'
The phone rang. I waited for the machine. Through the speaker I heard Squares say, 'Pick it up.'
I did.
