shaking his head often in
answer to their questions. Throughout the evening, Kate remained aware of him.
His eyes were hooded beneath lowered brows, his very stillness an indication
that he was unobtrusively observing the faces of the gathered mourners.
To Kate, it seemed that everyone in
Pickard had come to the funeral home. Mayor Frank Etzel and his assistant
Joseph Garvey came with their wives. She had never met either of the men but
appreciated their attendance. Neighbors, friends, acquaintances from church and
the library. Even strangers held her hand and whispered words of condolence.
The death of a child was a shared pain.
She was touched by the number of people
from Richard’s office who had made the effort to attend the wake. Christian
Mayerling, Richard’s boss, arrived early in the evening. His carriage was
stiff, muscles rippling in his jawline as he patted Richard awkwardly on the
shoulder.
At fifty-five, Chris was tall and
whipcord thin, with an elegance that was part upbringing and part affectation.
He came from a wealthy family, well-connected in Chicago. Just recently he had
moved to an exclusive hi-rise on Round Lake, so they saw more of him than they
had when he lived in the city. He had a full head of black hair with wings of
white at the temples that accentuated his striking good looks.
“God Almighty, Kate, what can I say?” He
grasped both her hands, pressing them convulsively. “Is there anything I can
do?”
“There’s nothing, Chris, but thanks for
offering. Your flowers are lovely,” she said, nodding at the enormous basket of
spring flowers on the pedestal beside the casket. “Jenny loved daffodils.”
“I was hoping so. One of the pictures in
Richard’s office shows her with an armful.”
Kate remembered the picture and her eyes
filled with tears. Chris turned to Richard, while Kate tried to gather the
remnants of her composure. She checked her watch. Eight. One more hour.
Watching Richard she was struck by how
alone she was. Most of the people in the room were friends of his. She had no
immediate family and he had not encouraged her to socialize with either the
school parents or anyone at the library. She had always felt her life was full.
She had been busy with Jenny and Richard, never realizing that except for Mike
and Chessy and Marian Grainger she had few real friends. How would she fill her
life now that Jenny was gone?
Be
careful. The COP has arrived.
He could feel his body tensing the
moment Leidecker entered the room. No emotion visible on the COP face except
when the shadowing lids lifted and a flash of expression quivered across the
surface.
The COP stood at the back of the room: a
guard on patrol. Probing eyes. Sweeping around the room like the searchlights
in a prison camp. Progressing slowly, evaluating, and weighing.
He was grateful he had not brought the
talisman.
Just before he came to the funeral home
he had taken it out of the secret place. The metal looked dull. He rubbed the
bracelet against his pant leg to polish it.
He raised it to his eyes. The gold links
appeared brighter. Once again he rubbed it against his leg. He stroked more
vigorously and beneath the material of his pants he could feel the heat against
his leg. His erection was immediate.
Time had been short. He couldn’t
continue to explore his rising excitement and the prickly sensations quivering
beneath his skin. He’d debated taking the bracelet with him but knew it was safer
where it was. Later.
He returned to the moment and his own
wrenching sorrow as he stared at the tiny casket. Realization of his precarious
position sent a spurt of anger through his body that temporarily blocked the
pain.
What had she done with the candy
wrapper? Had she dropped it in the woods? It wasn’t in the ashtray or wedged
behind the car seat. He’d searched the entire car and couldn’t find it. If the
police had found the wrapper maybe they wouldn’t think