4th of July (Women's Murder Club 4)

The Seeker and the Watcher ordered, too, but unlike the Truth, they only picked at their food when it came. They continued to speak in muted voices.

Working the angles.

Trying it on.

The Truth stared into the fog, listening intently as a plan finally came together.

Chapter 38

THE DAY UNFURLED LIKE a yellow beach blanket. It was a terrible shame that Joe wasn’t here to share it with me.

I whistled Martha into the car, and we headed into town for provisions. As we sped along Cabrillo Highway, I saw the sign: Bayside School, Department of Child Welfare, State of California.

The big blue Victorian house loomed large on my right side. On an impulse, I pulled the car into the parking area.

I sat for a long moment, taking in the house, the playground, the tall chain-link fence. Then I locked the car and walked up a gravel pathway to a heavy oak door.

A very overweight black woman, probably in her midthirties, answered the bell.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m looking for Dr. Brown.”

“Come on in. She’s in the teachers’ lounge. I’m Maya Abboud. I’m one of the teachers here.”

“What kind of school is this?” I asked as I followed her through dark, narrow hallways and up two flights of stairs.

“The state stashes runaways here, mostly. These kids are the lucky ones.”

We passed small classrooms, a TV lounge, and dozens of children from very small ones to adolescents. It was a far cry from Oliver Twist, but still, that all of these children were essentially homeless was sad and troubling.

Ms. Abboud left me at the threshold of a bright, many-windowed room, and inside it was Carolee Brown. She jumped to her feet and came toward me.

“Lindsay. Good to see you.”

“I was passing by and, well, I wanted to apologize for being abrupt yesterday.”

“Oh, stop. I surprised you, and you didn’t know me from a tuna fish sandwich. I’m glad you’re here. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

I told Carolee that I couldn’t stay long, but she assured me it would just take a minute.

I followed her outside to the playground and saw that we were headed toward a pretty, dark-haired girl of about eight, sitting at a table under a shade tree, playing with her Power Rangers.

“This is my daughter, Allison,” said Carolee. “Ali, this is Brigid and Meredith’s aunt Lindsay. She’s a police lieutenant.”

The little girl’s eyes got very bright as she turned them on me.

“I know exactly who you are. You’re taking care of Penelope.”

“I sure am, Ali, but it’s just for a few weeks.”

“Penelope is so cool, isn’t she? She can read minds.”

The little girl chattered on about her pig friend as she and her mom walked me to the parking area.

“It’s really cool that you’re a policewoman,” Allison said, grabbing my hand.

“It is?”

“Sure. Because it means you’re good at fixing things.”