‘Oh, Christ.’ McCabe sighed, another kernel of guilt starting to form.
‘A little later you call and scare her half to death. You tell her Maggie’s coming over. Later Maggie leaves and I turn up. You don’t. She asks where you are. I tell her I’m sure you’re all right. Then she tells me how her uncle was killed in a shootout when she was ten…’
‘Tommy.’
‘That’s right. Tommy. Obviously she’s worried sick about you getting killed, but she tries not to show it. Wants to be the good girl, the good cop’s daughter.’
‘I suppose me getting killed would mean I was abandoning her in a way, too. Just like her mother did. Was that part of it?’
‘Maybe, but I’m not sure it got that far.’
‘I’d better talk to her — ’
‘Yes. You’d better. Right now may not be the best time. She’s got it under control for now.’
‘So what do I say?’
‘Just be sensitive to how she feels. Make sure she knows you’re okay and that you care. You can talk to her a little more deeply when things calm down. Anyway, I’ll take her to school in a little while. Let me just grab a shower. I’ve been up all night, too.’
He found Casey in the kitchen eating a bowl of Cheerios. He slipped into the chair opposite her.
‘New scrunchie?’ McCabe asked, noticing the band of orange fabric holding her hair back.
‘Yeah, Sarah and I made them. Her mom showed us how. I’ve got two more.’
‘Good job.’
‘It’s easy. You just sew the cloth into a tube and push the stretchy stuff through with a safety pin. Then you sew the ends.’ She took it off and showed him.
‘Cool.’ He slipped the band around his head. ‘How do I look?’
‘Don’t. You’ll stretch it.’ She reached over and took the scrunchie off his head. ‘You okay?’ she asked.
‘I’m okay. Did you get any sleep?’
‘Not much. Maggie left in the middle of the night. Said she had to go meet you. Jane came over.’
‘Was that okay?’
‘I kind of wanted company. I slept with Jane. Where were you?’
‘Up in Gray interviewing a witness. Then over at Cumberland Med.’
‘Somebody get hurt?’
‘Yes.’ He didn’t go into detail.
‘Where’s your shotgun?’
‘I left it down at headquarters.’
‘Okay.’
‘It was important for me to be there.’
Casey studied him for a minute. ‘Okay,’ she said.
He took her hand, the one not holding the spoon.
‘Don’t,’ she said and pulled it away.
He realized he was famished. Maggie’s doughnuts and a spoonful of lasagna were all he’d eaten in nearly twenty-four hours. He got himself a bowl and spoon and poured out some Cheerios. He added milk and started munching. ‘Have you thought any more about seeing your mother?’
‘Yeah. A lot.’
‘So what do you think?’
‘You said I had to see her.’
‘I think you do. The judge gave her that right. How do you feel about that?’
‘I don’t know. She’s coming Friday?’
‘Yes. She’ll meet you here after school. She wants to take you to Boston for the weekend. Probably stay at some fancy hotel. Maybe go see a show.’
‘Big deal.’ Silence. ‘She’s really rich?’
‘Her husband is.’
Casey finished her cereal and took the bowl to the sink and rinsed it out. ‘His name’s Peter?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Peter what?’
‘Ingram.’
‘Is he my stepfather?’
‘Only if you want to think about him that way.’
‘I don’t think about him any way. I never even met him. He’s not coming, is he?’
‘I don’t think so. It’s just Sandy.’
‘How come you gave me the same name as her?’
‘It’s what she wanted when you were born.’ A little extension of herself, McCabe thought. ‘Anyway, it’s not really the same. You’re Casey. She’s Sandy.’
‘Ready to go?’ Jane appeared.
‘We’re both Cassandras,’ Casey said. ‘You guys aren’t gonna fight about me, are you? You and Mom?’
‘I hope not. I’ll try not to. I can’t speak for her.’
‘You’re supposed to be the grown-ups, you know.’
‘Yeah, that’s what I heard.’ He hugged her hard. ‘I love you.’ He didn’t want to let her go. Not to Boston. Not, at the moment, even to school.
‘Dad, I gotta go.’
‘I know. Go break a leg.’
‘I love you, too,’ she said and turned and ran down the stairs.
He called Sandy’s number in New York.
‘Hello, McCabe. Casey ready for my visit?’
He wasn’t sure ready was the operative word. Still, he said, ‘You can pick her up Friday after school.’
‘I’ll be there at four o’clock. I’ve reserved a suite at the Four Seasons. She should bring a nice outfit she can wear to some good restaurants and maybe the theater. She does have something decent to put on, doesn’t she?’
He let the sarcasm pass. ‘She’ll pack something nice.’
‘Anything in particular she’d like to see?’
‘She’ll like anything you choose. Or better yet, give her the choice. She doesn’t get to go much. You know where we live?’
‘I do indeed.’
‘She’ll need to be back early enough Sunday to do her homework. No later than four or five o’clock.’
‘That’s fine.’
‘Sandy?’
‘What?’
‘Take good care of her.’
McCabe kicked off his shoes and lay on the unmade bed, thinking about Casey and what he might have said to her. Kyra’s scent lingered on the sheets. He was exhausted but knew he didn’t have time for sleep. He had to go back to the hospital, talk to Sophie as soon as she was compos mentis, but first he needed to sort things out. The list of loose ends was long and getting longer, a Pandora’s box of probablys, might bes and what ifs.
He stripped down, got in the shower, and thought about things as the hot water coursed over him. Sophie said they were doing illegal transplants. Most likely somewhere inside a fifty-mile band north or east of Augusta. Unless, of course, they cut south again. He thought about that and rejected it. It’d waste too much time doubling back and forth.
Okay. There were five or six people involved besides Sophie. A transplant surgeon and a second surgeon. One of them Spencer? Probably. Anybody else? Maybe one of Spencer’s buddies from the Denali picture. Wilcox or Holland. Who else? A nurse-anesthetist. Identity unknown. Two or three OR nurses. Also unknown. A perfusionist. Sophie.
Sophie said she hadn’t known they were killing people to obtain the hearts. Did the others? For sure, at least
