No Time for Goodbye - Linwood Barclay [87]
“Honey,” I said. I almost blurted out that I would look after Grace, but that would have suggested I believed that the scenario she was laying out for us was likely, and imminent.
“If she arrests me, she’ll stop trying to find the truth,” Cynthia said.
“That’s not going to happen,” I said. “If she arrested you, she’d have to believe that you had something to do with everything else, with Tess’s death, maybe even Abagnall’s death. Because all these things, they must be connected somehow. These things are all part of the same puzzle. They’re all related. We just don’t know how.”
“I wonder if Vince knows,” Cynthia said. “I wonder if anyone has talked to him lately.”
“Abagnall said he was looking into him,” I said. “Didn’t he say something, the last time we saw him, about checking into his background a bit more?”
Dr. Kinzler, attempting to get us back on track, said, “I don’t think we should wait for two more weeks before your next appointment.” She was looking at Cynthia when she said it, not me.
“Sure,” she said, her voice soft and distant. “Sure.” She excused herself and left the office to use the washroom.
I said to Dr. Kinzler, “Her aunt, Tess Berman, came to see you a couple of times.”
The eyebrows went up. “Yes.”
“What did she have to say?”
“I wouldn’t normally discuss another patient with you, but in Tess Berman’s case, there isn’t anything to discuss. She came a couple of times, but never opened up to me. I think she had contempt for the process.”
I loved Tess.
There were ten calls on our answering machine when we got home, all from different media outlets. There was a long, impassioned message from Paula, from Deadline. She said Cynthia owed their viewers a chance to revisit this case in light of recent developments. Just name the time and place, and she’d be there with a film crew, Paula said.
I watched as Cynthia hit the button to delete the message. Not flustered. No confusion. One quick motion with a steady index finger.
“Didn’t have any trouble that time,” I said. God forgive me, it just slipped out.
“What?” she said, looking at me.
“Nothing,” I said.
“What did you mean? That I didn’t have any trouble that time?”
“Forget it,” I said. “I didn’t mean anything.”
“You mean when I deleted that message?”
“I said it was nothing.”
“You’re thinking about that morning. When I got the call. When I accidentally erased the call history. I told you what happened. I was shook up.”
“Of course you were.”
“You don’t even believe I got that call, do you?”
“Of course I do.”
“And if I didn’t get that call, then that e-mail, I must have made that up, too? Maybe when I was typing up that note on your typewriter?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Cynthia moved closer to me, raised her hand and pointed at me. “How can I stay here under this roof if I can’t be one hundred percent certain that I have your support? Your trust? I don’t need you looking at me sideways, second-guessing everything I do.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“So say it. Tell me right now. Look me in the eye and tell me you believe in me, that you know I haven’t had a hand in any of this.”
I swear I was going to say it. But my tenth-of-a-second hesitation was all it took for Cynthia to turn and walk away.
When I went into Grace’s room that night and found the lights all turned off, I expected to find her peering through her telescope, but she was already under the covers. She was wide awake.
“I’m surprised to find you here,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed and touching the side of her head.
Grace didn’t say anything.
“I thought you’d be looking for asteroids. Or did you already look?”
“I didn’t bother,” she said so softly I almost couldn’t hear.
“Are you not worried about asteroids anymore?” I asked.
“No,” she said.
“So there aren’t any coming to hit the earth anytime soon?” I said, brightening. “Well, that has to be a good thing.