Blood Work

don’t know. But I do know it was a start, a beginning of something good…”

“Was?”

He looked away from her for a moment to try to put the words together. It was hard. He knew he only had this one chance.

He looked back at her.

“But it’s so new and so fragile, this change. And I don’t know if it can last with what I have to tell you. But I want you to decide. I haven’t prayed for anything in a long time. But I’ll say a prayer that I see you-and Raymond- on my dock again. Or I’ll pick up the phone and I’ll hear your voice. I’m going to leave it up to you to decide.”

He leaned into her and kissed her gently on the cheek. She didn’t resist.

“Tell me,” she said quietly.

“Graciela, your sister is dead because of me. Because of something I did a long time ago. Because I crossed a line somewhere and allowed my ego to challenge a madman’s, Gloria is dead.”

His eyes dropped away from hers. The pain he had just put into them was too much for him to witness.

“Tell me,” she said again, even quieter this time.

And he did. He told her about the man known for the time being only as James Noone. He told her of the trail he had followed to the garage warehouse. He told her what he found there and what was waiting for him on the computer.

She began to cry as he told it, quiet tears that rolled down her cheeks and fell to the denim blouse she wore. He wanted to reach out to her, grab her and hold her close and kiss the tears on her cheeks. But he couldn’t. He knew he was out of her world at that moment. He could not enter of his own choice. She would have to invite him back in.

When he was done, they sat quietly for a few moments. Graciela finally reached up and with open palms smeared the tears on her cheeks.

“I must look awful.”

“No, you don’t.”

She looked down at the rug through the glass coffee table and a long period of silence passed by.

“What will you do now?” she finally asked.

“I’m not sure but I have a few ideas. I’m going to find him, Graciela.”

“Can’t you leave it? Let the police find him?”

McCaleb shook his head.

“I don’t think I can. Not now. If I don’t find him and face him, I’ll never know if I can get past this. I don’t know if that makes sense or not.”

She nodded, still looking at the floor, and more silence went by. Finally she looked up at him.

“I want you to go now, Terry. I need to be alone.”

McCaleb nodded and slowly stood up.

“Okay.”

Again he fought an almost overwhelming urge to just touch her. Nothing more. He just wanted to feel her warmth once more. Like on the first day when she had touched him.

“Good-bye, Graciela.”

“Good-bye, Terry.”

He crossed the room and headed toward the door. On his way he glanced at the china cabinet in the living room and saw the framed photo of Gloria Torres. She was smiling at the camera on that happy day so long ago. It was a smile he knew would always haunt him.

43

AFTER A NIGHT of fitful sleep with dreams of being dragged down through deep, dark water, McCaleb rose at dawn. He showered and then made himself a heavy breakfast-an onion and green pepper omelet, microwaved sausage and a half quart of orange juice. When he was done, he still felt hungry and didn’t know why. Afterward he went down to the head and took another reading of his vital signs. Everything was fine. At five after seven he called Jaye Winston’s office number. She was there and he could tell by her voice that she had worked straight through night.

“Two things,” McCaleb said. “When do you want to do this formal statement and when do I get my car back?”

“Well, the Cherokee you can have any time. I just have to call over to release it.”

“Where is it?”

“Right here. Our impound lot.”

“I suppose I have to come get it.”

“Well, you’ve got to come out here anyway to give me a statement. Why don’t you do both at the same time?”

“Okay, when? I want to get this over with. I want to get out of here, take a vacation.”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. I just have to get away, try to work all of this poison out. Maybe Vegas.”

“Now that’s a great place for mental rehabilitation.”

McCaleb ignored her sarcasm.

“I know. So when can we meet?”

“I’ve got to put the case together ASAP and I need your statement. So anytime this morning would be good for me. I’ll just make room for you.”

“Then I’m on my way.”

Buddy Lockridge was sleeping on the cockpit bench. McCaleb rousted him and he woke with a start.

“What is-hey, Terror, you’re back, man.”

“Yeah, I’m back.”

“How’s my car, man?”

“It’s still running. Listen, get up, I’ve got one more trip to make and I need you to drop me off.”

Lockridge slowly pulled himself up into a sitting position. He had been lying under a sleeping bag. He gathered it around him and rubbed his eyes.

“What time is it?”

“It’s seven-thirty.”

“Fuck, man.”

“I know, but this will be the last time.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I just need you to drop me the sheriff’s office so I can get my car. I need to go by a bank on the way.”

“They’re not open this early.”

“They’ll be open by the time we get out to Whittier.”

“So if I’m driving you out to pick your car up, who is going to drive it back here?”

“Me. Let’s go.”

“But you said you aren’t supposed to be driving, man. Especially a car with an air bag.”

“Don’t worry about it, Buddy.”

They were on the way a half hour later. McCaleb brought a duffel bag with a change of clothes and everything else he would need for his trip. He also brought a thermos of coffee and two cups. He poured coffee and filled Buddy in on the case and all that had happened while they drove. Buddy asked questions for most of the drive.

“I guess I’ll have to buy a paper tomorrow,” he said.

“It will probably be on TV, too.”

“Hey, is it going to be a book? Will I be in it?”