2nd Chance - James Patterson [55]
It was hard to accept that Jill, who worked tirelessly at the office, who rock-climbed at Moab and biked the rough terrain in Sedona, had twice been denied a child.
“The poor girl’s just too damn hard on herself.” Claire sighed, warming her hands with her sake cup. “We all told her she had to ratchet it down.”
“Jill doesn’t have that gear,” said Cindy.
I picked up a California roll and turned it over and over in the sauce. “She did it to please Steve. You could see it on her face. She keeps that impossible schedule. She doesn’t give anything up. And he’s running around the country wining investment bankers.”
“She loves him,” protested Cindy.
“They’re a team.”
“They’re not a team, Cindy. Claire and Edmund are a team. The two of them, they’re in a race.”
“It’s true,” Claire agreed. “That girl always has to be number one. The girl can’t fail.”
“So which one of us is any different?” Cindy asked. She looked around. Waited.
There was a moment of protracted silence. Our gazes met with contrite smiles.
“But it’s deeper than that,” I said. “Jill’s different. She’s tough as nails, but in her heart she feels alone. Any of us could be where she is now. We’re not invincible. Except you, Claire. You have this mechanism that just keeps it together, you and Edmund and your kids, like that fucking battery rabbit, on and on and on.”
Claire smiled. “Someone has to provide the balance around here. You saw your dad last night, didn’t you?”
I nodded. “It went pretty well, I guess. We talked, we got some things out.”
“No fisticuffs?” Cindy asked.
“No fisticuffs.” I smiled. “When I opened the door, he had on a catcher’s mask. I’m serious.”
Claire and Cindy laughed out loud.
“He brought me this bottle of wine. Fancy French first-growth. Nineteen sixty-five. He bought it the year I was born. Kept it all these years. How do you figure that? He never even knew if he’d ever see me again.”
“He knew he’d see you again,” Claire said with a smile. She sipped her sake. “You’re his beautiful daughter. He loves you.”
“So how’d you leave it, Lindsay?” Cindy asked.
“I guess you could say we agreed to a second date. Actually, I told him he could stay with me for a while.”
Cindy and Claire both blinked.
“We told you to loosen up and see him, Lindsay.” Cindy snorted. “Not ask him to share the rent.”
“What can I tell you? He was camped out on someone’s couch. It seemed like the right thing to do.”
“It is, honey.” Claire smiled. “Here’s to you.”
“Uh-uh.” I shook my head. “Here’s to Jill.”
“Yeah, here’s to Jill,” Cindy said, lifting her beer.
We all clinked. Then it was quiet for a moment or two.
“I don’t mean to change the subject,” Cindy said, “but you want to share where you are on the case?”
I nodded. “We’re looking into the Chimera names Warden Estes gave us. But today I came up with a new theory.”
“New theory?” Cindy wrinkled her brow.
I nodded. “Look, this guy’s a trained shooter. He’s made no mistakes. He’s been one step ahead of us on every move. He knows how we work.”
Cindy and Claire were listening. Not a word. I told them what Weiscz had said to me. An inside job…
“What if Chimera isn’t a crazy, racist killer from one of these radical groups?” I leaned forward. “What if he’s a cop?”
Chapter 66
IN A DARK BAR, Chimera sipped his Guinness. The best for the best, he thought.
Next to him, a white-haired man with a blotchy red, dry-as-parchment face was downing Tom Collinses, glancing up at the TV. The news was on. An insipid reporter was giving the latest on the Chimera case, getting it all wrong, insulting the public, insulting him.
He kept his eyes peeled across the street through the bar’s large window. He had followed the next victim here. This one he would relish. All those cops, chasing down the wrong leads. This kill would really set them on their heels.
“It’s not over,” he muttered under his breath. And don’t ever get the idea that I’m predictable. I’m not.
The drunk old-timer next to him gave him a nudge. “I think the bastard’s