The Vanished Man (Lincoln Rhyme 5)

Or: Who are you? Why are you coming into my room and sitting down here as if we know each other?

Or: I heard the word "you" once but I don't know what it means and I'm too embarrassed to ask. It's important, I know, but I can't remember. You, you, you . . .

Then her mother looked out the window, at the clinging ivy, and said, "Everything turned out fine. We got through it just fine."

Kara knew it would only be frustrating to try to carry on a conversation with her when she was in this state of mind. None of her sentences would be related to any other. Sometimes she'd even forget her train of thought within a sentence and her voice would fade to a confused silence.

So Kara herself now just rambled on, talking about the Metamorphoses show she'd just done. And then, even more excitedly, she told her mother about helping the police catch a killer.

For a moment her mother's eyebrow arched in recognition and Kara's heart began to pound. She leaned forward.

"I found the tin. I never thought I'd see it again."

Head back in the pillow.

Kara's hands clenched into knotted fists. Her breath came fast. "It's me, Mum! Me! The Royal Kid. Can't you see me?"

"You?"

Goddamnit! Kara raged silently to the demon who'd possessed the poor woman and muffled her soul. Leave her alone! Give her back to me!

"Hi there." A woman's voice from the doorway startled Kara, who subtly lifted several tears off her cheek, as smoothly as executing a French drop, before she turned around.

"Hey," she said to Amelia Sachs. "You tracked me down."

"I'm a cop. That's what we do." She walked into the room, holding two Starbucks cups. She glanced at the container in Kara's hand. "Sorry. Redundant present."

Kara thumped the carton she was holding. Almost out. She took the second cup gratefully. "Caffeine'll never go to waste around me." She started sipping. "Thanks. You guys have fun?"

"Sure did. That woman's a scream. Jaynene. Thom's in love with her. And she actually made Lincoln laugh."

"She has that effect on people," Kara said. "A way good soul."

Amelia said, "Balzac dragged you away pretty fast at the end of the show. I just wanted to come by and thank you again. And to say that you should send us a bill for your time."

"I never thought about it. You introduced me to Cuban coffee. That's payment enough."

"No, invoice us something. Send it to me and I'll make sure it goes to the city."

"Playing G-woman," Kara said. "It'll be a story I'll tell my grandkids. . . . Hey, I'm free for the rest of the night--Mr. Balzac's off with his friend. I was going to see some people down in SoHo. You want to come?"

"Sure," the policewoman said. "We could--" She looked up, over Kara's shoulder. "Hello."

Kara glanced behind her and saw her mother, looking with curiosity at the policewoman, and sized up the gaze. "She's not really with us right now."

"It was during the summer," the elderly woman said. "June, I'm pretty sure." She closed her eyes and lay back.

"Is she okay?"

"Just a temporary thing. She'll come back soon. Her mind's a little funny sometimes." Kara stroked the old woman's arm then asked Sachs, "Your parents?"

"It'll sound familiar, I've got a feeling. Father's dead. My mother lives near me in Brooklyn. Little too close for comfort. But we've come to an . . . understanding."

Kara knew that understandings between mother and daughter were as complex as international treaties and she didn't ask Amelia to elaborate, not now. There'd be time for that in the future.

A piercing beep filled the room and both women reached for the pagers on their belts. Amelia won. "I shut my cell off when I got here. There was a sign in the lobby that said I couldn't use it. You mind?" She nodded toward the telephone on the table.

"No, go ahead."