And, funny, she didn't seem to think it was so odd.
"That's terrible. My mother'd do that, laugh at me in front of other people. And she'd hit me too. I think the laughing was worse. A lot worse."
He was actually moved by her sympathy.
"Hey, lovely? . . . You held fast tonight."
She smiled and made fists--as if displaying the tattooed letters, H-O-L-D F-A-S-T.
"I'm proud of you. Come on, let's go inside."
But Jennie didn't move. Her smile slipped away. "I was thinking about something."
"What?"
"How did he figure it out?"
"Who?"
"The man tonight, Reynolds."
"Saw me, I suppose. Recognized me."
"No, I don't think so. It sounded like the sirens were coming, you know, before you knocked on the door."
"They were?"
"I think so."
Kathryn . . . Eyes as green as mine are blue, short pink nails, red rubber band around her braid, pearl on her finger and a polished shell at her throat. Holes in her lobes but no earrings.
He could picture her perfectly. He could almost feel her body next to him. The balloon within him began to expand.
"Well, there's this policewoman. She's a problem."
"Tell me about her."
Pell kissed Jennie and slipped his hand down her bony spine, past the strap of her bra, and kept going into the waistband of her slacks, felt the lace. "Not here. Inside. I'll tell you about her inside."
Chapter 37
"I've had enough of that," Linda Whitfield said, nodding toward the TV, where news stories about Pell kept looping over and over.
Samantha agreed.
Linda walked into the kitchen and made decaf coffee and tea, then brought out the cups and milk and sugar, along with some cookies. Rebecca took the coffee but set it down and continued to sip her wine.
Sam said, "That was nice, what you said at dinner."
Linda had said grace, apparently improvised, but articulate. Samantha herself wasn't religious but she was touched by Linda's words, intended for the souls of the people Daniel Pell had killed and their families, as well as gratitude for the chance to reunite with her sisters and a plea for a peaceful resolution of this sad situation. Even Rebecca--the steel magnolia among them--had seemed moved.
When she was young, Sam often wished her parents would take her to church. Many of her friends went with their families, and it seemed like something parents and a daughter could do together. But then, she'd have been happy if they'd taken her to grocery shop or for a drive to the airport to watch the planes take off and land while they ate hot dogs from a catering truck parked near the fence, like Ellie and
Tim Schwimmer from next door did with their folks.
Samantha, I'd love to go with you but you know how important the meeting is. The issue isn't just about Walnut Creek. It could affect all of Contra Costa. You can make a sacrifice too. The world's not all about you, dear. . . .
But enough of that, Sam commanded herself.