of ways of communicating our intentions. But it seemed like maybe he had worked through something, or decided something...." Neither of them spoke for a minute. "Angels passing," Misty said softly, pointing toward the ceiling.
Then she put her elbows on the desk, cupping her face in her hands. "One night a few months ago I went into the kitchen and looked at the oven, thinking, how do you do this? Because I’m not very mechanically inclined. I mean, how do you get the gas to come out without heating it up so you bake to death? How do you stuff yourself in so you won’t fall out?"
She sounded bad, lost, incredibly sad. The only thing Nina could think of to say was, "You didn’t do it."
"That’s when I first went to see Dr. Greenspan, over near the hospital. I asked him to give me some pills, something to cheer me up, but he wouldn’t. He won’t just hand out pills; he tries other things. He gave me some good ideas about eating better, not that I always do, but at least now I think about it. And I’ve been doing hypnotherapy with him, ’cause I feel like if I could just figure out this dream, everything would be fine." She let out a little laugh. "Sure. Even he says that’s not bloody likely."
"And Anthony? What does he think about the therapy?" Nina asked.
There it was, that hard look again. "He didn’t know what kind of a doctor Greenspan was at first. Now he says I have to stop. When he ran off last week I called Dr. Greenspan for a short emergency session this weekend, to help me through all this."
"All right, Misty," Nina said. "I have enough to draft up the paperwork and get you started. Go straight to the police department on Al Tahoe Boulevard and tell them you have a missing persons report. Tell them you and Anthony had a disagreement, without getting into details. Say you’ve been hiding from him and you’re afraid. Tell them I’m getting restraining orders for you. Then check into the Lucky Chip Motel. Come back tomorrow morning and you can read and sign off on the paperwork and sign the retainer agreement."
She nodded. "Okay."
"One more thing. What did you do about the mess from Thursday night? The coffee table that broke and the statue?"
"The statue was gone when I woke up. I guess Anthony took it somewhere. Everything else I cleaned up the next morning, before I left. That stuff went out with the trash."
"Why?"
"I was just about to leave and I thought, Anthony’ll come back and he’ll get reminded. Well, not if I can help it. I even scrubbed off the blood on the couch pillow."
Sandy walked her out and Nina went down the hall to brush her hair and get a drink of water. When she got back, Sandy said, "Mrs. Patterson said she forgot to tell you the police were over at her next-door neighbor’s. Something about his boat."
"Make a note and stick it in the file," Nina said.
"Come in, Mr. Sandoval." Another new client, thanks to Sandy. My, she was a busy lady. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
Something in the interview needed revisiting. She had it for a moment, then lost it. Something the girl had said suggested ... what? She thought hard, closed her eyes to the sight of an unhappy man turned brutal thug, attacking his wife in a scene that happened all over every night, but nothing else came. Opening her eyes, she glimpsed Misty standing on the corner outside her window, waiting for the light to change, tall, pale, young, and lovely, hugging herself against the breeze. Old Mr. Sandoval struggled over to the window, leaning on his cane, and watched her move across the street.
"Ah," he said.
5
NINA BROUGHT MISTY’S paperwork down to the court just before five on Monday, but the hearing examiner who handled temporary restraining orders had already gone home, and Judge Milne had left at three.
"Call in the morning and I’ll let you know if you got your signatures," said the clerk who had been left in charge.
"After looking at our declaration, don’t you think we have an emergency here?"
Then she put her elbows on the desk, cupping her face in her hands. "One night a few months ago I went into the kitchen and looked at the oven, thinking, how do you do this? Because I’m not very mechanically inclined. I mean, how do you get the gas to come out without heating it up so you bake to death? How do you stuff yourself in so you won’t fall out?"
She sounded bad, lost, incredibly sad. The only thing Nina could think of to say was, "You didn’t do it."
"That’s when I first went to see Dr. Greenspan, over near the hospital. I asked him to give me some pills, something to cheer me up, but he wouldn’t. He won’t just hand out pills; he tries other things. He gave me some good ideas about eating better, not that I always do, but at least now I think about it. And I’ve been doing hypnotherapy with him, ’cause I feel like if I could just figure out this dream, everything would be fine." She let out a little laugh. "Sure. Even he says that’s not bloody likely."
"And Anthony? What does he think about the therapy?" Nina asked.
There it was, that hard look again. "He didn’t know what kind of a doctor Greenspan was at first. Now he says I have to stop. When he ran off last week I called Dr. Greenspan for a short emergency session this weekend, to help me through all this."
"All right, Misty," Nina said. "I have enough to draft up the paperwork and get you started. Go straight to the police department on Al Tahoe Boulevard and tell them you have a missing persons report. Tell them you and Anthony had a disagreement, without getting into details. Say you’ve been hiding from him and you’re afraid. Tell them I’m getting restraining orders for you. Then check into the Lucky Chip Motel. Come back tomorrow morning and you can read and sign off on the paperwork and sign the retainer agreement."
She nodded. "Okay."
"One more thing. What did you do about the mess from Thursday night? The coffee table that broke and the statue?"
"The statue was gone when I woke up. I guess Anthony took it somewhere. Everything else I cleaned up the next morning, before I left. That stuff went out with the trash."
"Why?"
"I was just about to leave and I thought, Anthony’ll come back and he’ll get reminded. Well, not if I can help it. I even scrubbed off the blood on the couch pillow."
Sandy walked her out and Nina went down the hall to brush her hair and get a drink of water. When she got back, Sandy said, "Mrs. Patterson said she forgot to tell you the police were over at her next-door neighbor’s. Something about his boat."
"Make a note and stick it in the file," Nina said.
"Come in, Mr. Sandoval." Another new client, thanks to Sandy. My, she was a busy lady. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
Something in the interview needed revisiting. She had it for a moment, then lost it. Something the girl had said suggested ... what? She thought hard, closed her eyes to the sight of an unhappy man turned brutal thug, attacking his wife in a scene that happened all over every night, but nothing else came. Opening her eyes, she glimpsed Misty standing on the corner outside her window, waiting for the light to change, tall, pale, young, and lovely, hugging herself against the breeze. Old Mr. Sandoval struggled over to the window, leaning on his cane, and watched her move across the street.
"Ah," he said.
5
NINA BROUGHT MISTY’S paperwork down to the court just before five on Monday, but the hearing examiner who handled temporary restraining orders had already gone home, and Judge Milne had left at three.
"Call in the morning and I’ll let you know if you got your signatures," said the clerk who had been left in charge.
"After looking at our declaration, don’t you think we have an emergency here?"
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