one.”
“Any cars along the street. Either
parked and/or driving past?”
Kate closed her eyes, trying to picture
the scene. “I suppose I saw cars, but nothing that struck me as either familiar
or unusual.”
“We’ve gone over the list of people you
called or who called you that evening, and the approximate times you spoke to
them. If you could both look it over and see if it’s correct or if other names
might have been forgotten.”
Carl opened the leather folder and
extracted a white sheet of paper. He leaned forward and handed Kate the list.
The letters blurred and she forced
herself to stare at the first name on the list until it became clear. Barbara
Morrisey. Jenny’s teacher. She concentrated as she looked at each entry then
wordlessly handed the paper to Richard. Closing her eyes she tried to think of
anyone’s name she had not included. Finally she opened her eyes and stared
across at Carl.
“I can’t think of anyone else.”
“Richard?”
“It seems as if everyone is here. I’m
not positive they’re in the right order, but by and large I think it’s
complete.”
Richard handed the list back to Carl,
who folded it and slid it into the front pocket of the leather folder. Kate
watched as the police chief checked through the yellow, lined pages of the note
pad. His finger paused beside one of the handwritten notes. He reached into the
inside of his uniform jacket to remove a pen, tested the point on a corner of
the page.
She let her mind wander to the sounds
outside. The dull putt-putt of a neighbor’s lawn mower and the sharp yip of a
dog were comfortably familiar. It was hard to believe that life went on when
her whole world had been ripped apart.
“Now let’s go through your day again,
please,” Carl said.
Kate brought her attention back to
Richard. When he spoke, his voice was impassive, almost a monotone. Her eyes
moved to Carl. His loose-limbed posture appeared unchanged until she noticed
the contrast between his relaxed appearance and the rigidity of his fingers
holding the shank of the pen.
“What time was it when you and Kate
arrived at the hospital?” he asked.
“I think it was eight-fifteen or
eight-thirty. Is that about right, Kate?”
Richard’s eyes sought hers and she
automatically nodded.
“I think so. Mike would know what time
we got there.” She turned to Carl. “Richard called him when we learned that
Jenny had been taken to the Pickard Hospital.”
“You called him before you left the
house?”
“We didn’t know then what had happened.
We didn’t want Jenny to be alone,” Kate said.
She pressed her lips together, blinking
rapidly to dissipate the sudden flood of tears that blurred her vision. She
inhaled deeply. As her lungs filled, she lifted her chin, once more in control.
Richard extended his hand and she grasped it like a lifeline.
“As it turned out, Mike was already at
the hospital, but he didn’t know Jenny was there. I told him. Then we
left.”
“You drove to the hospital together?”
“Yes,” Richard said. “In my car.”
“You work in Chicago?”
“Yes. At Mayerling, an advertising
agency. Chris Mayerling is the owner and president of the agency. I’m the
creative director and one of three vice presidents.”
“Where did you work prior to
Mayerling’s?”
“It was my first job out of school. I
went to Case Western Reserve in Cleveland, Ohio. My major was art and I took my
junior year in Rome. I ran into Chris in a bar near the Spanish Steps. I was
into political cartooning at the time and he liked my work. When I went to
Chicago during spring break my senior year, I called him for an interview. He
hired me, subject to graduation, and I’ve been there for fifteen years.”
Kate shook her head at the reminder of
the passage of time. She had never had enough time, until now. How would she
fill the minutes and hours and years ahead? She shifted, forcing her attention
back to the questioning.
“Do you drive
“Any cars along the street. Either
parked and/or driving past?”
Kate closed her eyes, trying to picture
the scene. “I suppose I saw cars, but nothing that struck me as either familiar
or unusual.”
“We’ve gone over the list of people you
called or who called you that evening, and the approximate times you spoke to
them. If you could both look it over and see if it’s correct or if other names
might have been forgotten.”
Carl opened the leather folder and
extracted a white sheet of paper. He leaned forward and handed Kate the list.
The letters blurred and she forced
herself to stare at the first name on the list until it became clear. Barbara
Morrisey. Jenny’s teacher. She concentrated as she looked at each entry then
wordlessly handed the paper to Richard. Closing her eyes she tried to think of
anyone’s name she had not included. Finally she opened her eyes and stared
across at Carl.
“I can’t think of anyone else.”
“Richard?”
“It seems as if everyone is here. I’m
not positive they’re in the right order, but by and large I think it’s
complete.”
Richard handed the list back to Carl,
who folded it and slid it into the front pocket of the leather folder. Kate
watched as the police chief checked through the yellow, lined pages of the note
pad. His finger paused beside one of the handwritten notes. He reached into the
inside of his uniform jacket to remove a pen, tested the point on a corner of
the page.
She let her mind wander to the sounds
outside. The dull putt-putt of a neighbor’s lawn mower and the sharp yip of a
dog were comfortably familiar. It was hard to believe that life went on when
her whole world had been ripped apart.
“Now let’s go through your day again,
please,” Carl said.
Kate brought her attention back to
Richard. When he spoke, his voice was impassive, almost a monotone. Her eyes
moved to Carl. His loose-limbed posture appeared unchanged until she noticed
the contrast between his relaxed appearance and the rigidity of his fingers
holding the shank of the pen.
“What time was it when you and Kate
arrived at the hospital?” he asked.
“I think it was eight-fifteen or
eight-thirty. Is that about right, Kate?”
Richard’s eyes sought hers and she
automatically nodded.
“I think so. Mike would know what time
we got there.” She turned to Carl. “Richard called him when we learned that
Jenny had been taken to the Pickard Hospital.”
“You called him before you left the
house?”
“We didn’t know then what had happened.
We didn’t want Jenny to be alone,” Kate said.
She pressed her lips together, blinking
rapidly to dissipate the sudden flood of tears that blurred her vision. She
inhaled deeply. As her lungs filled, she lifted her chin, once more in control.
Richard extended his hand and she grasped it like a lifeline.
“As it turned out, Mike was already at
the hospital, but he didn’t know Jenny was there. I told him. Then we
left.”
“You drove to the hospital together?”
“Yes,” Richard said. “In my car.”
“You work in Chicago?”
“Yes. At Mayerling, an advertising
agency. Chris Mayerling is the owner and president of the agency. I’m the
creative director and one of three vice presidents.”
“Where did you work prior to
Mayerling’s?”
“It was my first job out of school. I
went to Case Western Reserve in Cleveland, Ohio. My major was art and I took my
junior year in Rome. I ran into Chris in a bar near the Spanish Steps. I was
into political cartooning at the time and he liked my work. When I went to
Chicago during spring break my senior year, I called him for an interview. He
hired me, subject to graduation, and I’ve been there for fifteen years.”
Kate shook her head at the reminder of
the passage of time. She had never had enough time, until now. How would she
fill the minutes and hours and years ahead? She shifted, forcing her attention
back to the questioning.
“Do you drive
Similar Books
