complicated. Well, Lupe thought, there was hopeand there was hope. First of all she hoped the girl was safe; it was always a strange, angry kind of relief when the teenager came waltzing back home with that pissy look of triumph on his or her face. Look at me, I fucked with you, ain’t I just the cat’s meow! Oh, yeah, you’re super; now give me your cell phone and your iPod, and by the way, you’re grounded for, like, one year. Yeah, that was what Lupe hoped the MOS whose kid was AWOL would experience tonight: that teenage slap on the face that sent you to bed at dawn grateful that your baby was home safe. If not... well, Orlando would get the call that Mom was working overtime. It would break her heart to let him down, but he’d been there before; she’d find a way to make it up to him.
As the car pulled to a stop on Water Street, Lupe dug in her purse for the lipstick tube that once again had gotten itself lost in her tangle of stuff. Her mother always said that a little makeup went a long way, and Lupe had learned never to meet a challenge without her lipstick. It gave her strength and volume. That white couple standing there, just behind Zeb Johnson, must have been the parents. They looked wiped out, really upset. Lupe hoped that stalker the other day had been a figment of the caller’s nervous imagination. She really hoped so. But then she saw a big mess of yellow paint on the street — and a footprint. Aw, shoot. Her antennae were getting that quivery feeling that usually meant a long night ahead.
Chapter 6
Wednesday, 2:33 a.m.
Water Street grew colder with deepening night, and the sour smell of fresh paint now seemed to permeate the air. Susan stood on a street that no longer looked familiar, her arm linked through Dave’s, feeling a pool of loneliness opening within her. Some terrible story seemed hidden in each stroke and drip of yellow paint on the sidewalk and cobblestones, and now it was more necessary and impossible than ever to make her confession to Dave. But how could she just blurt it out here, in front of a stranger? Officer Johnson stood off to the side, waiting for his precinct detectives to arrive.
She sat back down on the curb and pulled her BlackBerry out of her purse.
Dave doesn’t know yet. She began the e-mail to Lisa a little incoherently, she realized, but she wasn’t a writer and she felt too disordered to make a solid beginning. But I’m going to tell him as soon as I can. I wanted you to know first so you wouldn’t be the last to know the biggest secret of your life. Only Mommyand Daddy and I and now you know about that time honey.
Susan sent the message, sated with the memory of Lisa in her arms as a newborn baby, so soft and floppy and perfect it made her shiver to think she might have given her up for adoption if her parents hadn’t stopped her. There was so much more to tell Lisa. She opened another e-mail.
Let me tell you about your father. His name was Peter Adkins. I haven’t seen him since way back then and the truth is, my darling, the truth is the truth is he never knew about you. Go ahead and hate me. I deserve it. Facts: I was fifteen and he was seventeen when we made you, we both lived in Vernon and went to the same high school, he was popular and I was not, he was a pretty good student and I was a terrible student (except in dance, ceramics and strangely math), and you are very much like him in some ways, the good ways. Peter was an amazing boy just loaded with charm and yes Lisa yes we loved each other. He made me feel beautiful before I ever really saw myself in a mirror. But I don’t have to tell you that people are complicated. When I got pregnant things began to change with us and —
Dave sat down on the curb beside Susan. She sent the second e-mail with its last unfinished sentence, and zipped the BlackBerry back into her purse’s outside pocket. He glanced at her with a warm smile, then rested his arms on his bent knees, clasping his hands
As the car pulled to a stop on Water Street, Lupe dug in her purse for the lipstick tube that once again had gotten itself lost in her tangle of stuff. Her mother always said that a little makeup went a long way, and Lupe had learned never to meet a challenge without her lipstick. It gave her strength and volume. That white couple standing there, just behind Zeb Johnson, must have been the parents. They looked wiped out, really upset. Lupe hoped that stalker the other day had been a figment of the caller’s nervous imagination. She really hoped so. But then she saw a big mess of yellow paint on the street — and a footprint. Aw, shoot. Her antennae were getting that quivery feeling that usually meant a long night ahead.
Chapter 6
Wednesday, 2:33 a.m.
Water Street grew colder with deepening night, and the sour smell of fresh paint now seemed to permeate the air. Susan stood on a street that no longer looked familiar, her arm linked through Dave’s, feeling a pool of loneliness opening within her. Some terrible story seemed hidden in each stroke and drip of yellow paint on the sidewalk and cobblestones, and now it was more necessary and impossible than ever to make her confession to Dave. But how could she just blurt it out here, in front of a stranger? Officer Johnson stood off to the side, waiting for his precinct detectives to arrive.
She sat back down on the curb and pulled her BlackBerry out of her purse.
Dave doesn’t know yet. She began the e-mail to Lisa a little incoherently, she realized, but she wasn’t a writer and she felt too disordered to make a solid beginning. But I’m going to tell him as soon as I can. I wanted you to know first so you wouldn’t be the last to know the biggest secret of your life. Only Mommyand Daddy and I and now you know about that time honey.
Susan sent the message, sated with the memory of Lisa in her arms as a newborn baby, so soft and floppy and perfect it made her shiver to think she might have given her up for adoption if her parents hadn’t stopped her. There was so much more to tell Lisa. She opened another e-mail.
Let me tell you about your father. His name was Peter Adkins. I haven’t seen him since way back then and the truth is, my darling, the truth is the truth is he never knew about you. Go ahead and hate me. I deserve it. Facts: I was fifteen and he was seventeen when we made you, we both lived in Vernon and went to the same high school, he was popular and I was not, he was a pretty good student and I was a terrible student (except in dance, ceramics and strangely math), and you are very much like him in some ways, the good ways. Peter was an amazing boy just loaded with charm and yes Lisa yes we loved each other. He made me feel beautiful before I ever really saw myself in a mirror. But I don’t have to tell you that people are complicated. When I got pregnant things began to change with us and —
Dave sat down on the curb beside Susan. She sent the second e-mail with its last unfinished sentence, and zipped the BlackBerry back into her purse’s outside pocket. He glanced at her with a warm smile, then rested his arms on his bent knees, clasping his hands
Similar Books
