Diane was staring at him in shock. He saw her eyes shift to the door and he knew the secretary outside had heard every word he had said.
Diane looked back at him. “I lost it.”
“Try again.”
Diane sat there, frozen in the chair. Then suddenly, amazingly, her eyes teared up.
“Please,” she whispered. “You don’t know what it’s been like. The TV people won’t leave me alone. I can’t go out of my apartment, I can’t leave my phone on the hook.”
She wiped angrily at her eyes. “Today when I got here, I found out that someone took a felt-tip and wrote “wanted” on my picture outside in the hall.”
That was why the picture out in the trophy case was missing, Louis thought. He stood up, backing away from her desk.
“It’s going to get worse,” he said “They’re getting a warrant to search this office. You know what that’s going to be like?”
He nodded out toward the desk where the secretary and now two other women were clustered, whispering and looking their way. “Do you really want them watching it? You want them to see the cops coming in here, going through your desk, your trash, tearing this place up like they did your home?”
Diane looked ready to cry again. But Louis could see the boil of anger beneath it.
“Give me the ring,” he said.
She rose slowly and turned her back to him. He watched as she slipped her hand inside her blouse. She turned back. Louis held out his hand and she dropped the ring into it.
“Now get out of my office,” she said.
“Not yet,” Louis said. “I need some information. I need to know about your mother for starters.”
Diane sat back down in her chair, shielding her eyes with a shaking hand. “I told you she died when I was little. I don’t remember much about her.”
“What’s her maiden name?”
“I don’t know.” She looked up at Louis and saw the disbelief in his face. “I don’t know,” she repeated tightly.
“What about family records?”
“I never saw any.”
“What about your birth certificate? What does it say under your mother’s name?”
“I don’t know. I...I never looked at it.”
“What about your father?” Louis pressed. “Where is he from? Where did he go to school?”
Diane was frowning slightly. “I...he never said anything.”
“Is he from Fort Myers? Did he ever mention Sarasota?”
She was looking up at Louis now and he could see a change in her expression, an odd confusion, like she was looking at something that was supposed to be familiar but seeing something different.
“Diane, we can’t find anything about your father’s background before 1952,” Louis said.
“That’s the year I was born,” she said.
Louis didn’t respond. He just let it sink in.
“I need your mother’s maiden name, Diane,” Louis said.
A bell rang and Louis could hear the bustle and laughter of kids out in the hallways. He saw Diane’s eyes shift and he looked over his shoulder to see a wiry teenage boy come shuffling into the outer office, his head bowed, backpack dragging.
Diane pushed herself up from her chair. “I’m sorry, I have something I have to take care of,” she said.
“It can wait,” Louis said
Diane shook her head. “No, this can’t. That boy out there was accused of stealing another boy’s radio and I know he didn’t do it.” Her eyes drifted out to the boy outside. “I know Ricky didn’t do it even though his father thinks he did. His father is coming in and I have to convince him his son needs some attention...not another slap.”
Louis stared at Diane. “But you’re not going to help me,” he said.
“I can’t trust you,” she said, shaking her head.
“Little late for that now,” he said.
“Yes, it is,” she said. “Now please leave.” Her eyes were pleading.
Louis turned and left the office. The boy looked up at him as he went past. At the entrance, Louis paused and looked back toward the administration office. He could see Diane leading the boy into her office, an arm over his skinny shoulders. Louis turned up his collar and darted out into the rain.
“Hey! Kincaid! Louis Kincaid!”
He saw a flash of yellow coming up on his right. Heather Fox had seen him. He kept going.
“What are you doing here, Kincaid?” she asked, falling in step. He could see the cameraman hustling over, fumbling with the camera.
“Were you here to see Diane Woods? Did she have anything to say about her father?”
Louis kept walking.
“How did she look? Did she look upset? Did she —-”