for a postpartum girl who lives within
walking distance to the alley.”
“Or … ,” Decker prompted.
“Or possibly a homeless person.”
“There you go,” Decker answered. “What’s the skin tone of the baby?”
“Medium brown. From the looks of her, she could be just about any race except for maybe Nordic. My district is a real polyglot
of races.”
The sullen waitress with the baggy eyes brought over our meager order. Her disposition would improve when the meal was over.
Today was my treat and I was a big tipper.
After she left, Decker said, “The blood work might help you out with the baby’s race, too. If I were on the case, I’d call
up the hospital lab.”
“Don’t I need some kind of court order to do that?”
“Probably. But sometimes, if you just go down and make an appearance, you can persuade the technicians to talk to you.”
Koby came to mind. I wondered if he was working today. “Right. Good idea.” I warmed my fingers on my coffee mug. “Things okay
with you, Dad?”
“Things are coming along.”
I looked at my father in earnest. Over the past couple of months, he had traversed some rough roads, things he refused to
talk about. He kept up a stoic appearance—big worries rarely registered on his face—but I knew better. There was always a
telltale sign. The twitch of his mouth, the shift in his gaze. I switched the discussion to neutral ground. “How’s the family?”
“Great.” He sounded like he meant it.
“How’s my Hannah Banana?”
“Your sister’s scary.”
“At ten, her vocabulary is probably bigger than mine.”
“Well, it’s definitely bigger than mine.”
“Is Jacob adjusting to college all right?”
“Yes, very well, thanks.” Dad looked at me. “It’s nice of you to ask, Cindy.”
“And Sammy? Didn’t you say something about a girlfriend?” Surprise in Dad’s eyes. “See? I listen when you talk.”
“Sammy and Rachel are still an item as far as I know.” Decker took my hand. “How are
you
doing, Princess?”
“I’m all right, Dad. Waiting patiently for my turn in the Detectives squad room. In the meantime, I’m studying for the Sergeant’s
exam. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in school, but it’s going well.”
“Brains was never your problem.” He dropped my hand, then fiddled with his coffee cup. “Getting out at all?”
He was staring somewhere over my shoulder, trying to hide his concern. The truth was that both of us had experienced terrible
ordeals, events that had almost cost us our lives. And neither of us was eager to talk about them.
“I’m still in the bowling league.” I scrunched up my eyes and made a moue. “Don’t worry. I’m fine. If you want to help me,
give me some tips on finding this mother. Even if the mom never sees her child again, the kid deserves to know something about
her genetics, don’t you think?”
“Sure.”
“Any advice other than the lab?”
“Visit the local schools—Mid-City High or even the local junior highs because you’re looking for a girl without a car. Ask
the teachers who has been missing, who was pregnant, who may look like they’re pregnant but is not saying anything.”
“That’s a good idea.” I felt suddenly dispirited. Why hadn’t I thought of those things? Of course, Decker picked up on it.
“Cynthia, I
should
know more than you at this stage.” His smile was tender and a bit sad. “Although sometimes I wonder. I’m certainly not immune
to failure.”
I waited for him to say more. Of course, he didn’t. So I told him I thought he was terrific.
Decker smiled. “Likewise. I’m your biggest fan.”
“I know you are, Daddy.”
“Anything else?”
“No, not … well, how about this? Suppose … suppose, I find the mother. Let’s say she’s fifteen and
her
mother won’t let me talk to her or see her. What do I do?”
“You use psychology to convince the mother that it’s in her best interest for you to
walking distance to the alley.”
“Or … ,” Decker prompted.
“Or possibly a homeless person.”
“There you go,” Decker answered. “What’s the skin tone of the baby?”
“Medium brown. From the looks of her, she could be just about any race except for maybe Nordic. My district is a real polyglot
of races.”
The sullen waitress with the baggy eyes brought over our meager order. Her disposition would improve when the meal was over.
Today was my treat and I was a big tipper.
After she left, Decker said, “The blood work might help you out with the baby’s race, too. If I were on the case, I’d call
up the hospital lab.”
“Don’t I need some kind of court order to do that?”
“Probably. But sometimes, if you just go down and make an appearance, you can persuade the technicians to talk to you.”
Koby came to mind. I wondered if he was working today. “Right. Good idea.” I warmed my fingers on my coffee mug. “Things okay
with you, Dad?”
“Things are coming along.”
I looked at my father in earnest. Over the past couple of months, he had traversed some rough roads, things he refused to
talk about. He kept up a stoic appearance—big worries rarely registered on his face—but I knew better. There was always a
telltale sign. The twitch of his mouth, the shift in his gaze. I switched the discussion to neutral ground. “How’s the family?”
“Great.” He sounded like he meant it.
“How’s my Hannah Banana?”
“Your sister’s scary.”
“At ten, her vocabulary is probably bigger than mine.”
“Well, it’s definitely bigger than mine.”
“Is Jacob adjusting to college all right?”
“Yes, very well, thanks.” Dad looked at me. “It’s nice of you to ask, Cindy.”
“And Sammy? Didn’t you say something about a girlfriend?” Surprise in Dad’s eyes. “See? I listen when you talk.”
“Sammy and Rachel are still an item as far as I know.” Decker took my hand. “How are
you
doing, Princess?”
“I’m all right, Dad. Waiting patiently for my turn in the Detectives squad room. In the meantime, I’m studying for the Sergeant’s
exam. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in school, but it’s going well.”
“Brains was never your problem.” He dropped my hand, then fiddled with his coffee cup. “Getting out at all?”
He was staring somewhere over my shoulder, trying to hide his concern. The truth was that both of us had experienced terrible
ordeals, events that had almost cost us our lives. And neither of us was eager to talk about them.
“I’m still in the bowling league.” I scrunched up my eyes and made a moue. “Don’t worry. I’m fine. If you want to help me,
give me some tips on finding this mother. Even if the mom never sees her child again, the kid deserves to know something about
her genetics, don’t you think?”
“Sure.”
“Any advice other than the lab?”
“Visit the local schools—Mid-City High or even the local junior highs because you’re looking for a girl without a car. Ask
the teachers who has been missing, who was pregnant, who may look like they’re pregnant but is not saying anything.”
“That’s a good idea.” I felt suddenly dispirited. Why hadn’t I thought of those things? Of course, Decker picked up on it.
“Cynthia, I
should
know more than you at this stage.” His smile was tender and a bit sad. “Although sometimes I wonder. I’m certainly not immune
to failure.”
I waited for him to say more. Of course, he didn’t. So I told him I thought he was terrific.
Decker smiled. “Likewise. I’m your biggest fan.”
“I know you are, Daddy.”
“Anything else?”
“No, not … well, how about this? Suppose … suppose, I find the mother. Let’s say she’s fifteen and
her
mother won’t let me talk to her or see her. What do I do?”
“You use psychology to convince the mother that it’s in her best interest for you to
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