“How long were you in Patagonia?”
“A few years. That’s when I stopped being blond.” She smiled. “They don’t exactly have hair colorists in Punta Tombo.
I grinned back. “And after that? Did you return to the states?”
“For only a month or so. Then I headed to Australia for fieldwork, studying what they call ‘little penguins,’ and I taught as well. It was different there from Argentina but incredible, too.”
All that sun and wind explained the crow’s-feet. But more importantly, it sounded as if things had been okay, that she hadn’t let the murders unspool her life. Though had all that globe-trotting actually been a form of being on the run?
“And now?”
“I’m considering doing a PhD program—I’ve been accepted into one—but for the time being I’m on a bit of a sabbatical. My parents always wanted us to be self-starters, and they designed their will so that if they died young, we wouldn’t inherit most of the money until we were thirty-five, which means I just came into a decent chunk. I thought I’d take a break. Travel some with New York City as a base.”
“Do you ever go back? I mean, to Dory?”
“Not since the sentencing. It was just too hard.”
I, on the other hand, had actually been to Dory a couple of times since then, visiting a first cousin of my father’s who lived close by and driving by Jillian’s old house on a couple of occasions. But it would have sounded creepy to admit that.
“It’s just so good to see you, Jillian,” I said instead. “And I hope you’ll accept my apology.”
“What do you mean?”
“I never reached out. I was never there for you.”
She shrugged, as if I was apologizing for picking up the wrong sandwich for her on a run to the deli. “It’s so hard to know what to say or do in situations like that.”
“I know, but I should have done something, tried to come to see you.”
“I probably would have discouraged it anyway. It was hard for me in the beginning to even accept sympathy, except from the Healys and a few locals I’d known for ages. There were people in town—like business associates of my father—who were upset because I didn’t want to have this huge funeral service with open caskets so that everyone could pay their respects, but I couldn’t bear the thought. The only way I could cope was to keep things small and private.”
At that moment I finally recognized what was different about her appearance. There was a tautness to the muscles of her face that had never been there before, as if she was working hard underneath the bonhomie to stay in control, swaddling or even strapping down emotions and instincts to keep them from playing havoc with her.
“I’d love to spend more time together when you’re here,” I said. “Would you like to come to dinner one night? If you’re seeing someone, you can bring him, too.”
“Oh, that’s nice. And yes, maybe sometime. But there’s something I want more than that.”
“Of course.” I couldn’t possibly imagine what it could be. Maybe she was eager to write about her work with animals and was looking for ideas on how to start. People constantly picked my brain about becoming an author. “Tell me what I can do.”
“Okay,” she said. “I want you to find the person who murdered my family.”