Goodnight, Irene by Jan Burke

for that.” She started sobbing again, but she wouldn’t let go of Frank’s hands. He didn’t try to take them away.
    I thought of how often I misjudged her, thought of all she had been through just this morning. I stood up and took the bag of Thai food over to the trash can. A shame to waste it, but I didn’t expect to be hungry again for about five years.
    As I turned to go back to the table, I noticed Sister Theresa walking toward us. I prayed a prayer I never thought I’d pray — I prayed to God that Kenny was still alive.
     
8
     
    S ISTER T HERESA AND I reached the bench at the same time.
    “Mrs. O’Connor?” she said to Barbara. “Come along now, the doctor is ready to talk to you about your husband.”
    “Is he…?”
    “Yes, he’s alive. Now, more than that, you’ll have to learn from the doctor.”
    I murmured a prayer of thanks to a God who would listen to hypocrites.
    Barbara and Sister Theresa started back. I was about to follow when Barbara turned and asked me if I’d wait outside with Frank. I felt hurt, but I stayed where I was. Frank looked over at me.
    “Hey, don’t take it so hard. Later on she’s probably not even going to remember being upset with you.”
    “I’ve never been — what did you call it the other day? — ‘sympathetic’ enough with her. I’m always wanting her to be a little tougher, less vulnerable.”
    Frank was good enough just to let me kick myself in silence for a while.
    “I don’t suppose there are any leads on this?” I asked.
    “Nothing solid. We’ve got a forensics team combing every inch of that beach house.”
    “I wonder if Kenny was the intended target all along.”
    “It’s possible. But then there’s this Hannah business and a couple of other things that bother me. For example, why shoot out
your
window? If they thought he was at your place, and were planning to kill him, why not wait for a clear shot? For that matter, why not just shoot him today? If they wanted to kill him, why not just do it outright?”
    “O’Connor must have figured out who Hannah was,” I said, “or at least worried someone into thinking he was getting too close to figuring it out. But why be so vicious with Kenny?”
    “I don’t know. We’re talking to people with whom Kenny has been in recent contact, trying to find out if anyone knows anything that might help us figure out how he comes into it.”
    “I talked to Lydia. I think things look pretty good for my getting my job back at the paper.”
    To my surprise, he didn’t seem very happy about this. “Irene, what happened to Kenny changes everything. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay in Las Piernas. At least not until we figure out what’s going on.”
    “And what if you never figure it out?”
    “We will.”
    “Who are you trying to kid? Maybe some people expect you guys to be supermen, but I don’t. I’ll bet even the Canadian Mounties don’t always get their man anymore. I’ve worked the crime beat, remember?”
    “Look — doesn’t my experience count for anything with you?”
    “Doesn’t mine count for anything with you?”
    “Goddamn it, Irene, this guy’s a freak. Burying Kenny in the sand — that’s not the work of some hood on an errand.”
    “I appreciate your concern. But think about it, Frank. I’m in danger until we figure out who’s behind all of this. That will be easier to discover if I pick up the threads of O’Connor’s investigations. I know how O’Connor’s mind worked, the way he attacked a problem. You’ve probably already gone into the newsroom and gathered whatever Wrigley could hand over, and I know enough about O’Connor’s note-taking to know you probably haven’t been able to make heads or tails of it. I’m not trying to be a hero here, Frank. I just don’t see any quicker or better way to get my own life back in order.”
    I waited. He was rubbing his knuckles again.
    “I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this, am