walk.”
“I’ve seen you in action, Hayes. I’m guessing Sloan has no idea that he has any effect on you at all.”
Maybe.
“Did Smith issue a formal reprimand?”
“No. I apologized for making the visit. I shouldn’t have gone.”
“And you’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Of course.”
Relaxing on the bench, her back against the brick wall, Lucy started to feel a little hungry for the first time since Lionel had called for her.
“Tell me how it went down with him.”
She needed Ramsey and he was there.
“I didn’t ask questions.”
“Didn’t give him the chance to tell you to go to hell?”
“It started out with him wearing the slimy smile.” Ramsey had been with her during the first meeting between her and Sloan. She’d managed to hold it together amazingly well that time.
But that was before she witnessed the effect that seeing the rapist had had on her mother.
At the time of that first meeting, Wakerby’s place in her life had been purely cognitive, professional. By the second visit, the reality of what he’d done to her family had taken hold.
“And?” Ramsey’s voice brought her back.
“He wasn’t wearing it by the time I left.”
“You scored.”
“I hope so.”
“When do you plan to go back?”
“Early next week.” Why were hospital walls always white? Like nothing dirty ever went on there. Like white walls could keep filth at bay.
“What are you going to do about Smith?”
“I have his blessing. I just have to keep Amber apprised of my actions.”
“You’ve earned your reputation.”
“Yeah, well, now I have to live up to it.”
“You doubt your ability to do that?”
Did he ever doubt himself? Of course he did. The question asked and answered itself in seconds.
Still, admission was dangerous.
“Your meeting with Smith was before lunch, you said.”
“That’s right.”
“And it obviously went okay if you got the go-ahead.”
“Yeah.”
“So what happened to the rest of the day?”
The problem with dealing with cops was that they saw too much, more than other people saw at any rate. At least Ramsey Miller did.
And Ramsey…he knew her. Understood her. Far better than any other peers ever had.
And he had arms made for hugging. Even if he didn’t realize it.
“Luce? What’s going on?”
She could put an end to needing him. An end to whatever was happening between them that neither of them wanted, much less was ready to acknowledge.
She could hang up.
“My mother.”
In a few brief words she told him about the call she’d received while still in Lionel’s office. And of Sandy’s eventual diagnosis and prognosis.
“You’re at the hospital?”
“Yes.” She hadn’t actually said so.
“Are you with your mother now?”
“No.” She described her current location. “Mama’s been asleep since they brought her up.”
“Did you have a chance to speak with her?”
“Not yet. She opened her eyes once and smiled when she saw that I was there. She squeezed my hand, but that’s all.”
“The alcohol still has ahold of her.”’
“I know.” So why was this little-girl fear eating at her from the inside out? She’d been the adult in her and Sandy’s relationship since she was about four years old. “Anyway, I’ll get to UC on Monday. Marie is prepared to stay with Mama around the clock if necessary.”
“Does she get paid overtime?”
“No. But she and my mother have been best friends since grade school. And she’s a widow. Mama sat with her many, many nights while her husband was dying of leukemia. I was only four or five at the time. I can barely remember Dwayne, just that he made me laugh. And that we were safe with him.”
An odd concept for a five-year-old to have.
Unless you were the five-year-old of a rape victim—and the sister of a baby who’d been abducted and never found.
“Does Marie have kids? Did she ever remarry?”
“No and no. Mama was Mama, even then. Drunk as much as she was sober. Marie took us both on. Mama, and me,
“I’ve seen you in action, Hayes. I’m guessing Sloan has no idea that he has any effect on you at all.”
Maybe.
“Did Smith issue a formal reprimand?”
“No. I apologized for making the visit. I shouldn’t have gone.”
“And you’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Of course.”
Relaxing on the bench, her back against the brick wall, Lucy started to feel a little hungry for the first time since Lionel had called for her.
“Tell me how it went down with him.”
She needed Ramsey and he was there.
“I didn’t ask questions.”
“Didn’t give him the chance to tell you to go to hell?”
“It started out with him wearing the slimy smile.” Ramsey had been with her during the first meeting between her and Sloan. She’d managed to hold it together amazingly well that time.
But that was before she witnessed the effect that seeing the rapist had had on her mother.
At the time of that first meeting, Wakerby’s place in her life had been purely cognitive, professional. By the second visit, the reality of what he’d done to her family had taken hold.
“And?” Ramsey’s voice brought her back.
“He wasn’t wearing it by the time I left.”
“You scored.”
“I hope so.”
“When do you plan to go back?”
“Early next week.” Why were hospital walls always white? Like nothing dirty ever went on there. Like white walls could keep filth at bay.
“What are you going to do about Smith?”
“I have his blessing. I just have to keep Amber apprised of my actions.”
“You’ve earned your reputation.”
“Yeah, well, now I have to live up to it.”
“You doubt your ability to do that?”
Did he ever doubt himself? Of course he did. The question asked and answered itself in seconds.
Still, admission was dangerous.
“Your meeting with Smith was before lunch, you said.”
“That’s right.”
“And it obviously went okay if you got the go-ahead.”
“Yeah.”
“So what happened to the rest of the day?”
The problem with dealing with cops was that they saw too much, more than other people saw at any rate. At least Ramsey Miller did.
And Ramsey…he knew her. Understood her. Far better than any other peers ever had.
And he had arms made for hugging. Even if he didn’t realize it.
“Luce? What’s going on?”
She could put an end to needing him. An end to whatever was happening between them that neither of them wanted, much less was ready to acknowledge.
She could hang up.
“My mother.”
In a few brief words she told him about the call she’d received while still in Lionel’s office. And of Sandy’s eventual diagnosis and prognosis.
“You’re at the hospital?”
“Yes.” She hadn’t actually said so.
“Are you with your mother now?”
“No.” She described her current location. “Mama’s been asleep since they brought her up.”
“Did you have a chance to speak with her?”
“Not yet. She opened her eyes once and smiled when she saw that I was there. She squeezed my hand, but that’s all.”
“The alcohol still has ahold of her.”’
“I know.” So why was this little-girl fear eating at her from the inside out? She’d been the adult in her and Sandy’s relationship since she was about four years old. “Anyway, I’ll get to UC on Monday. Marie is prepared to stay with Mama around the clock if necessary.”
“Does she get paid overtime?”
“No. But she and my mother have been best friends since grade school. And she’s a widow. Mama sat with her many, many nights while her husband was dying of leukemia. I was only four or five at the time. I can barely remember Dwayne, just that he made me laugh. And that we were safe with him.”
An odd concept for a five-year-old to have.
Unless you were the five-year-old of a rape victim—and the sister of a baby who’d been abducted and never found.
“Does Marie have kids? Did she ever remarry?”
“No and no. Mama was Mama, even then. Drunk as much as she was sober. Marie took us both on. Mama, and me,
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