“Maybe it does, I don’t know. But I hate seeing you get your hopes up like this. It’s been seven years.”
Claire glanced back out at the rain. “I know how long it’s been. Right down to the day, the hour, the very minute that I first noticed her missing.”
“I know you do.” Charlotte bit her lip. Tears shone in her eyes. “I know how much you still miss her. I miss her, too. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about her.”
“Then stop fighting me on this. There’s a doll out there that looks like my missing daughter. Help me find out why.”
When Charlotte didn’t answer right away, Lucille rushed to fill the silence. “Claire, you know we’d do anything for you, don’t you?”
“Will you go look at the doll with me?” Claire clutched her mother’s hand. “Mama, you have to see her. She looks exactly like Ruby, right down to that little pink dress you made for her seventh birthday. You remember it, don’t you? The one with the little white flowers?”
“Of course I remember it. I worked my fingers to the bone on all that embroidery.”
“She loved it so much. I couldn’t get her out of it.”
Lucille sniffed. “She called it her twirly dress. We had to go out and get her a new pair of shoes to go with it. Man, was that kid headstrong when she set her mind to something.”
Claire laughed softly.
A deep voice said from the doorway, “Is this a private party or can anyone join in?”
The room went still as Claire’s gaze connected with Alex Girard’s. He stood at the door, one hand propped on the frame as a lazy smile encompassed all three women. He looked lean and tanned, like someone who might belong to a country club. His suit was charcoal, his tie silver and his tasseled loafers were polished and buffed. That was one thing about Alex. Even on a cop’s salary, he always made sure he was well put together. He didn’t leave the house if he wasn’t.
Claire found herself staring at him almost as if he were a stranger. They’d been married for nearly six years, but somehow she always found something about him that she hadn’t noticed before. He was an attractive man, but his dark eyes made her think of one of those fun house mirrors that didn’t always reflect reality. He was in his late thirties and already starting to look a little like his father.
He wouldn’t want to hear that, Claire thought. Nor would he believe it. Like every other cop she’d ever known, he had a formidable ego.
“What are you doing here, Alex?”
He straightened from the doorway and came to stand at the foot of her bed. “My wife gets herself hit by a car, where else am I going to be?”
Claire was on the verge of reminding him that, for all intents and purposes, she was no longer his wife, but she didn’t want to start an argument in front of her mother and sister, so she said instead, “How did you know I was here?”
He grinned. “I’m a cop. I know everything.”
One look at Charlotte’s guilty face, however, confirmed Claire’s suspicion. “You didn’t have to come all the way over here. I’m fine.”
“I wanted to see that for myself.” He nodded to her mother. “Hello, Lucille.”
“Alex.”
“Haven’t seen you in a while. How’ve you been?”
“Can’t complain. And you?”
“Same old same old. Stabbings, shootings, a sliced-up tweaker in the Quarter. Just a routine week in the Big Easy.”
“If you’re that busy maybe we shouldn’t keep you.”
Anger flashed like quicksilver in Alex’s gray eyes. For some reason, his charm had never worked on Claire’s mother, and he couldn’t understand why. “Maybe you wouldn’t mind giving me and Claire a moment alone.”
“That’s up to Claire.”
“It’s okay, Mama.”
Charlotte came over and took Lucille’s arm. “You could use a cigarette anyway, couldn’t you, Mama? And I wouldn’t mind having another cup of coffee.”
Lucille said something under her breath, but she gathered up her purse and
Claire glanced back out at the rain. “I know how long it’s been. Right down to the day, the hour, the very minute that I first noticed her missing.”
“I know you do.” Charlotte bit her lip. Tears shone in her eyes. “I know how much you still miss her. I miss her, too. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about her.”
“Then stop fighting me on this. There’s a doll out there that looks like my missing daughter. Help me find out why.”
When Charlotte didn’t answer right away, Lucille rushed to fill the silence. “Claire, you know we’d do anything for you, don’t you?”
“Will you go look at the doll with me?” Claire clutched her mother’s hand. “Mama, you have to see her. She looks exactly like Ruby, right down to that little pink dress you made for her seventh birthday. You remember it, don’t you? The one with the little white flowers?”
“Of course I remember it. I worked my fingers to the bone on all that embroidery.”
“She loved it so much. I couldn’t get her out of it.”
Lucille sniffed. “She called it her twirly dress. We had to go out and get her a new pair of shoes to go with it. Man, was that kid headstrong when she set her mind to something.”
Claire laughed softly.
A deep voice said from the doorway, “Is this a private party or can anyone join in?”
The room went still as Claire’s gaze connected with Alex Girard’s. He stood at the door, one hand propped on the frame as a lazy smile encompassed all three women. He looked lean and tanned, like someone who might belong to a country club. His suit was charcoal, his tie silver and his tasseled loafers were polished and buffed. That was one thing about Alex. Even on a cop’s salary, he always made sure he was well put together. He didn’t leave the house if he wasn’t.
Claire found herself staring at him almost as if he were a stranger. They’d been married for nearly six years, but somehow she always found something about him that she hadn’t noticed before. He was an attractive man, but his dark eyes made her think of one of those fun house mirrors that didn’t always reflect reality. He was in his late thirties and already starting to look a little like his father.
He wouldn’t want to hear that, Claire thought. Nor would he believe it. Like every other cop she’d ever known, he had a formidable ego.
“What are you doing here, Alex?”
He straightened from the doorway and came to stand at the foot of her bed. “My wife gets herself hit by a car, where else am I going to be?”
Claire was on the verge of reminding him that, for all intents and purposes, she was no longer his wife, but she didn’t want to start an argument in front of her mother and sister, so she said instead, “How did you know I was here?”
He grinned. “I’m a cop. I know everything.”
One look at Charlotte’s guilty face, however, confirmed Claire’s suspicion. “You didn’t have to come all the way over here. I’m fine.”
“I wanted to see that for myself.” He nodded to her mother. “Hello, Lucille.”
“Alex.”
“Haven’t seen you in a while. How’ve you been?”
“Can’t complain. And you?”
“Same old same old. Stabbings, shootings, a sliced-up tweaker in the Quarter. Just a routine week in the Big Easy.”
“If you’re that busy maybe we shouldn’t keep you.”
Anger flashed like quicksilver in Alex’s gray eyes. For some reason, his charm had never worked on Claire’s mother, and he couldn’t understand why. “Maybe you wouldn’t mind giving me and Claire a moment alone.”
“That’s up to Claire.”
“It’s okay, Mama.”
Charlotte came over and took Lucille’s arm. “You could use a cigarette anyway, couldn’t you, Mama? And I wouldn’t mind having another cup of coffee.”
Lucille said something under her breath, but she gathered up her purse and
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