lot. As for not keeping you abreast of the details of her personal life, there were just some things we felt Jess wouldn't have wanted us to share."
Laura looked up. "She was a wonderful girl, Frank. But she wasn't perfect. No child is. She loved you very much, and she knew how much you adored her. More than anything she wanted your respect. I think she'd rather have died than disappoint you."
Janek shook his head. "Laura, Lauraâshe's gone now. We're way past the time when you have to worry about my being disappointed."
"Yes, Frank. I know. Of course. . . ."
They both looked as if they felt they'd been awful and stupid. He didn't want to leave them feeling that way, so he decided to share the contents of their daughter's call.
"When I got home tonight, there was a message from Jess. She didn't leave the date or time, but it was the last call I got, so I know she made it no earlier than two days before she was killed. She sounded worried, said she wanted to talk to me, said it was important, urged me to call her as soon as I got back. What was it? What did she want? Think hard, because this is important. The girl's upset; then she's killed and mutilated. Maybe she felt she was in danger."
Laura stared at him. "I can't imagine."
"Could have been about her father," Stanton said.
Laura nodded. "It could." She turned to Janek. "A few weeks ago she started asking me questions about Tim. I was surprised. We'd barely talked about him in years. I thought, well, it probably came up in her therapy. I suggested she talk to you. I told her you knew Tim in a completely different way. She seemed pleased with that. She loved talking to you, Frank. So maybe that's why she called."
Janek thought about it. Did wanting to talk to him about Tim fit the tone of her message? Not likely.
"Well, maybe so," he said. He wound up the discussion, kissed Laura on the cheek, and started for the door. Stanton escorted him out to the hallway and stood beside him as he rang for the elevator.
"Well?"
"Wellâwhat, Stanton?"
"I want you to promise me you'll hunt her killer down."
"I thought I already did."
"I want to hear you say it."
Janek looked at him. Stanton's eyes gleamed with a lust for vengeance.
"Yeah, I promise," Janek said. "I promise I'll hunt him to the ends of the earth. How's that?"
Stanton nodded. "Fine. That's fine, Frank. It feels good to hear you say the words."
The elevator arrived. Janek got in. The cigarette smoke was even more pungent than before.
"We'll stay in touch. Won't we?"
"Yeah, we'll stay in touch," Janek said to the closing door.
Â
H e was dreaming when, at six the following morning, his ringing telephone woke him up. As he groped for the receiver, he tried to recapture his dream, but the details were instantly lost to him, leaving him with nothing but a vague sense of dread.
It was Monika, and the fine clarity of her voice quickly drove away his demons.
"I was worried, Frank. You didn't call."
"Sorry. I got back too late. I figured you'd be asleep."
"I've been thinking about you, imagining what you've been going through. I wish I could be there with you now."
Wasn't she fabulous! Perhaps Venice had been more than a dream.
"I love the glass," he said.
"I hoped you would."
"I put it by my window. I want to look at it every day, to remind myself of Venice and how I met you there and what we found together." He pulled himself short. "Hey! I better shut up. This is getting sentimental."
"Don't be afraid of sentiment, Frank."
"No, Monika. But sometimes I'm wary." And then he poured out to her everything that was bothering him: the way Jess was stabbed, the gluing, the decadent boyfriend, and finally the diary.
" I couldn't bear to read it. I don't know why. First I thought it was her handwriting; then I realized I was afraid of what I'd have to read. Boyce almost leered when he offered it to me. I guess I didn't want . . . what? Disillusionment. Then, when he told me about her, that gang
Laura looked up. "She was a wonderful girl, Frank. But she wasn't perfect. No child is. She loved you very much, and she knew how much you adored her. More than anything she wanted your respect. I think she'd rather have died than disappoint you."
Janek shook his head. "Laura, Lauraâshe's gone now. We're way past the time when you have to worry about my being disappointed."
"Yes, Frank. I know. Of course. . . ."
They both looked as if they felt they'd been awful and stupid. He didn't want to leave them feeling that way, so he decided to share the contents of their daughter's call.
"When I got home tonight, there was a message from Jess. She didn't leave the date or time, but it was the last call I got, so I know she made it no earlier than two days before she was killed. She sounded worried, said she wanted to talk to me, said it was important, urged me to call her as soon as I got back. What was it? What did she want? Think hard, because this is important. The girl's upset; then she's killed and mutilated. Maybe she felt she was in danger."
Laura stared at him. "I can't imagine."
"Could have been about her father," Stanton said.
Laura nodded. "It could." She turned to Janek. "A few weeks ago she started asking me questions about Tim. I was surprised. We'd barely talked about him in years. I thought, well, it probably came up in her therapy. I suggested she talk to you. I told her you knew Tim in a completely different way. She seemed pleased with that. She loved talking to you, Frank. So maybe that's why she called."
Janek thought about it. Did wanting to talk to him about Tim fit the tone of her message? Not likely.
"Well, maybe so," he said. He wound up the discussion, kissed Laura on the cheek, and started for the door. Stanton escorted him out to the hallway and stood beside him as he rang for the elevator.
"Well?"
"Wellâwhat, Stanton?"
"I want you to promise me you'll hunt her killer down."
"I thought I already did."
"I want to hear you say it."
Janek looked at him. Stanton's eyes gleamed with a lust for vengeance.
"Yeah, I promise," Janek said. "I promise I'll hunt him to the ends of the earth. How's that?"
Stanton nodded. "Fine. That's fine, Frank. It feels good to hear you say the words."
The elevator arrived. Janek got in. The cigarette smoke was even more pungent than before.
"We'll stay in touch. Won't we?"
"Yeah, we'll stay in touch," Janek said to the closing door.
Â
H e was dreaming when, at six the following morning, his ringing telephone woke him up. As he groped for the receiver, he tried to recapture his dream, but the details were instantly lost to him, leaving him with nothing but a vague sense of dread.
It was Monika, and the fine clarity of her voice quickly drove away his demons.
"I was worried, Frank. You didn't call."
"Sorry. I got back too late. I figured you'd be asleep."
"I've been thinking about you, imagining what you've been going through. I wish I could be there with you now."
Wasn't she fabulous! Perhaps Venice had been more than a dream.
"I love the glass," he said.
"I hoped you would."
"I put it by my window. I want to look at it every day, to remind myself of Venice and how I met you there and what we found together." He pulled himself short. "Hey! I better shut up. This is getting sentimental."
"Don't be afraid of sentiment, Frank."
"No, Monika. But sometimes I'm wary." And then he poured out to her everything that was bothering him: the way Jess was stabbed, the gluing, the decadent boyfriend, and finally the diary.
" I couldn't bear to read it. I don't know why. First I thought it was her handwriting; then I realized I was afraid of what I'd have to read. Boyce almost leered when he offered it to me. I guess I didn't want . . . what? Disillusionment. Then, when he told me about her, that gang
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