Light of Day by Jamie M. Saul Read Free Book Online Page B

coffee table and closed his eyes. “The last time I saw Anne was in the loft on Crosby Street. She had a shopping bag with I-don’t-know-what in it. She knelt down to give Danny a hug and tell him that Mommy, Mummy , would always love him.” The words came out before he could consider them, as though his mind had suddenly jumped a synapse between thought and speech—he didn’t allow himself to think about Anne very often. Not about the Anne who had walked out of Danny’s life. That was part of the deal.
    What he felt now was very unsettling, as though he were betraying Danny, which is what he told Lois. She said it was good for him to talk about Anne. She asked, “Did she say anything else to him, besides she’d always love him?”
    â€œNo. Danny asked if he could see her tomorrow, and she hugged him and pressed the top of his head against her lips and kissed him, that’s all. When she left, Danny and I watched her from the window. She was wearing her orange cape. She looked so small, like the fade-out in a movie, as though she were already a memory. When I turned around, Danny was sitting on the floor playing with a button, an orangebutton that had come off Anne’s cape. He might have pulled it off, I don’t know. That night, when I tucked him in, he asked me if Anne was mad at him. Had she stopped loving him. He asked the same question for months: Why was his mother mad at him? Why didn’t she love him anymore?”
    â€œWhat did you tell him?”
    â€œI told him the truth. I think at first, he fantasized about her coming back, then he seemed to place her outside of his life. For years, when he talked about the way he thought things might have been, he’d say, ‘If she were still my mother.’” Jack smiled but it was not a pleasant smile. “If she were still his mother. He never talked about her to anyone else but me, as far as I could tell. Maybe to my father once or twice, and my mother. He never talked about her to his friends. Then about two years ago he stopped talking about her entirely.”
    â€œHow did he imagine things would be?”
    â€œPretty much the way they were. He seemed to think she would be a female version of me, except he’d be able to con her a little more. Just like that, she was gone. It seemed so simple as to be ridiculous.”
    â€œHow long did he keep the button?”
    â€œHe slept with it under his pillow until we moved here, then I never saw it again.”
    Jack closed his eyes, and when he opened them again it was after one-thirty. It hadn’t been a restful sleep but it was dreamless, and for that he was grateful.
    Lois was still in the chair across from the couch, reading a magazine. “I can make you lunch if you like,” she offered.
    â€œI can’t eat.” Jack picked up the phone. He called Detective Hopewell. “Can I come get my son now?”
    Hopewell told him, “I’m sorry, Dr. Owens, but the medical examiner’s been delayed over in Terre Haute. He can’t say for sure when he’ll be done. But I found something in your son’s personal effects. When you’re feeling up to it, I’d like you to come by and take a look at it. It might shed some light on things.”

VI
    T he office was small. There was buzzing from dim fluorescent lights, and even with the windows open it was hot and the air smelled stale. Hopewell sat behind a gray metal desk stacked with manila folders. His jacket was off, his shirt was open at the collar and his sleeves were rolled up above his elbows. He said hello to Jack, lifted his chin toward Lois and asked if she was “Mrs. Owens.”
    â€œShe’s my friend. Lois Sheridan, Detective Hopewell.”
    Hopewell answered, “I know this isn’t the kind of thing you want to be doing, Dr. Owens,” speaking in the same flat tone he had yesterday. He pointed to the pair of wooden chairs next to the