Say You're Sorry(24)
He nods.
“How long would a person survive outside without shelter in a blizzard like the one on Saturday?”
“A matter of hours.”
“The bruises and cuts…”
“She was wandering around in a blizzard. She could have bumped into trees and fallen into ditches.”
“Nobody has reported her missing.”
“Maybe she’s not a local.”
“They haven’t found a vehicle.”
Dr. Leece presses his thumbs into his eye sockets. “I don’t know. Sometimes I’m grateful that I don’t have to understand human behavior.”
Augie Shaw saw a woman standing barefoot in the middle of the road. It has to be the same one. She didn’t take her shoes off next to the pond. She wasn’t wearing any to begin with. Why run off? Why was she outside in a blizzard? Who was she running from?
“Did you notice anything else unusual about the scene?” I ask.
“We found a dog.”
“What?”
“It was frozen with her. Maybe the dog went in after her or she was trying to rescue it. Once she hit the water, the cold overwhelmed her and she didn’t have the strength to drag herself out.”
“Was it a black and white Jack Russell?”
The pathologist stares at me. “How could you possibly know that?”
“One went missing from the farmhouse. Small, black and white, I figured it was probably a Jack Russell.”
“The Heymans’ dog?”
“Yes.”
“Why would it be with the girl?”
It’s the same question I’ve been asking myself and I keep coming back to something that Grievous told me at the farmhouse.
“Do you keep the dental records of missing persons?”
“Of course.”
“Can you look up a file for me?”
“Certainly. Who?”
“It’s a girl who went missing a few years ago. Natasha McBain.”
Dr. Leece’s eyes bobble behind his glasses. “She was one of the Bingham Girls.”
“Her family used to live at the farmhouse, but they moved out after Natasha went missing.”
The pathologist’s mouth opens; a question half formed on his lips.
“So the dog?”
“What if they left it behind?”
10
Charlie is waiting for me at the hotel suite, sprawled out on one of the twin beds as though bored with life. I kiss her forehead. She looks past me at the TV. Silent. Righteous.
The room is dully corporate, decorated in navy blues, with a high ceiling and an ornate plaster rosette above the hanging light.
“Sorry I’m late. I got held up.”
“All day?”
“I left you a message.”
“Who was that woman you were talking to?”
“Pardon?”
“Outside the college after your lecture: you were talking to her.”
“She’s an old acquaintance.”
“Did you go to lunch?”
“Yes.”
“She’s very good looking.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“Dad. Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Act like you’re stupid.”
Even without looking at her reflection in the mirror I know she’s scowling at me.
“Her name is Victoria Naparstek. She’s a psychiatrist. She wanted to discuss one of her patients.”
“Augie Shaw.”
“How could you know that?”
“He was just on the news. He’s being questioned about those murders at the farm. Did he do it?”
“I don’t know.”
“He looks like a psycho.”
“We don’t call them psychos.”
“They said he burned that woman alive.”
“Allegedly. And you shouldn’t think about stuff like that.”
“What am I supposed to think about?”
“Celibacy.”
She’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, hands in her lap, treating a grown-up subject like true confessions at a teenage sleepover.
My mobile is vibrating. It’s Julianne.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“How did your talk go?”
“They didn’t fall asleep.”
“That’s always a good sign. I haven’t heard from Charlie all day. Is she all right?”
“She’s here now. I’ll put her on.”
Charlie takes the phone and walks to the far side of the room. I can only hear her side of the conversation.
“Yesterday… It’s OK… I went shopping… No, I didn’t buy anything… Didn’t like the colors… I saw some boots but they didn’t have my size… Pretty lame… He snores… I know… Yeah… I will… OK.”
My daughter doesn’t mention the murder investigation because she knows that Julianne doesn’t like me working for the police. These are old arguments. Lost battles. The war continues.