R is for Ricochet (Kinsey Millhone 18)

I pinched the bridge of my nose in despair. "Where are you now, at your dad's?"

"Yeah, and you'll never guess who came waltzing in for a visit with him."

"Who?"

"Lucinda."

"That woman who hoped to marry him?"

"The very one," she said. "She'd love to see me violate parole. I get tossed in the can again, she'll whip back into Pop's life before the doors slam shut."

"Then you better pull yourself together."

"That'd be easier to do if I could have a drink. Or maybe I could drop in at the Double Down and just watch. No harm in that."

"Would you cut the crap? You can do anything you want, but don't kid yourself. You're just looking for an excuse to self-destruct."

"Yeah, it might be a relief."

"Look, why don't I hop in the car and come get you?"

"I don't know. Now that I think about it, maybe that's not such a hot idea. If I leave Lucinda alone with him, she'll find a way to make trouble."

"Oh, come on. What can she do? Your father told me he was done with her."

"She'll manage somehow. I've seen her do it before. Pop's like me, weak-willed and indecisive, only not as hell-bent. Besides, if he's so done with her, how come she's sitting in the other room?"

"Would you quit obsessing about her? She's the least of your worries. Look, give me a minute to throw on some clothes and I'll be up."

"Are you sure you want to go out?"

"Sure I'm sure. Why don't you start walking down the drive, and I'll meet you at the gate."

In the car on the way over, I tried to assess the situation. Reba was on the verge of coming unglued. Since the moment she'd fired up that first cigarette, I'd been waiting for signs of emotional decompression. After two years at CIW, she was unaccustomed to real-world conflicts and real-world consequences. Prison, while loathsome, apparently provided a form of containment that must have made her feel safe. Now there was too much to deal with and no way for her to assimilate the impact. Bad enough to find out Beck had hoodwinked her into taking the fall for him, worse still to discover he'd launched into an affair with the woman she'd thought of as her best friend. She was tough enough to acknowledge his deception, but perhaps not tough enough to make the break. I could see her ambivalence; she'd been dependent on him for years. What worried me was the fact she had so little tolerance for stress. If the meeting with Vince Turner had been scheduled right away, she might have sailed right on through, spilling everything she knew. With the delay of even three days, she was in danger of losing control. And while she wasn't my responsibility, I was party to the push that had her teetering on the brink.

When I arrived at the estate, she was perched on a big sandstone boulder to the right of the gate. In a navy blue windbreaker, jeans, and tennis shoes, she sat with her knees drawn up, cigarette in hand. When she saw me, she took one last drag and then scrambled to the ground. The moment she got in the car, I could feel the nervous energy pouring out of her like heat. Her movements were agitated and her eyes were too bright. "What'd you do to your hair?" she asked. "Got it cut."

"It looks good." 'Thanks." I put the car in reverse and did a three-point turn.

She craned her neck and looked back at the gate. "I just hope she's gone by the time I get back. I couldn't believe she showed up like that unannounced."

"How do you know she didn't call him in advance?"

"That's even worse. If he agreed to see her, he's crazier than I am."

"Hey, take a deep breath and get a grip. You're all over the place."

"Sorry. I feel like there's someone inside trying to crawl out through my skin. I wish I had a guy. I'd rather have a drink, but getting laid would help."

"Call your sponsor. Isn't that what they're for?"

"I haven't found one yet."

"Then call Priscilla Holloway."

"I'm fine. Don't worry about it. I've got you," she said, and laughed.

"Yeah, right. This is way beyond me."

"Well, me too, you know? I'm just trying to muddle through the same as anybody else." She was quiet for a moment, staring out the window. "Fuck it. Never mind. I can tough it out on my own."

"As you've so amply demonstrated in the past," I said.

"Well, you're so smart, what do you suggest?"