“What’s going on with Lauren?”
I explained Lauren’s predicament as though I were talking to a friend, and Sam said all the right things in return. I felt better. Then I asked, “What about you. You feeling okay?”
“This-this road trip-has been kind of good for me, I think. Takes my mind off things. No chest pains so far. I’m watching my diet. Taking all my damn pills.”
“Exercise?”
“I walk when I can.”
“It’s important, Sam.”
“Yeah.”
The “yeah” was his way of indicating to me that it was time to move on.
“Nothing from Sherry?”
“Nothing. Simon’s okay, though; I talked to Angus.”
He paused long enough for me to respond. When I didn’t, he said, “She loves me. I love her.”
“You still worried that it’s not enough?”
“Things are complicated, you know? Life, marriage, relationships-it’s all complicated. Listen, I thought you might want to know that I think he might be alive. Sterling.”
“What? Really?”
“The whole accident/rescue thing is too goofy for words. Nothing came down in a way that gives me any confidence in a scenario of him rushing to help someone and accidentally ending up drowning in a raging river.”
“Like?”
“I’ll tell you later when I have more time. A for-instance, though-on one side of the car he was trying to reach was all this brush and trees and crap-you know, stuff to hold on to-on the other side was a muddy riverbank, real steep. Which one do you think he chose?”
“The mud.”
“Yeah. Like I said, goofy. I think if your IQ is anywhere near your golf score, you choose the side with the bushes on it. I keep trying to come up with excuses for him, but I’m failing.”
“You think he planned it so he went into the river, or maybe just found himself swimming and took advantage of serendipity?”
“Good question, Alan. I’m impressed. Turns out that he hesitated at the top long enough to think it all through. Actually drove past the accident scene once and then came back. So yeah, I’m thinking premeditation. I got Lucy checking to see what kind of swimmer he was.”
“I bet she finds out he was pretty good.” I was thinking that anybody who crewed on a big expensive yacht and gave diving demos had to be more than a little comfortable in the water.
“What do you mean?” Sam asked.
I realized how close I’d come to an unwitting disclosure. “Nothing. I just think Lucy might find something.”
“You could save her some work.”
“Maybe, but I won’t.”
He let it go. “In case you’re wondering, I’m planning on keeping my suspicions to myself until I have a little more evidence.”
He was telling me he wasn’t going to tell Gibbs he thought Sterling was alive. “Does that mean you’re coming back home now?”
“No, I’m not done looking.”
I allowed the buzz on the line to dominate for a few seconds before I asked, “Why, Sam? Why are you doing this?”
“This’ll sound goofy, but I figure Sterling can teach me something about marriage. Sterling and Gibbs both, actually.”
“What?” My “what?” was undiluted incredulity.
“Yeah.”
He was serious. I could tell. “That’s the craziest thing I think I’ve ever heard. And considering what I do for a living, that’s wild indeed.”
“Maybe it is crazy,” he said. “But it feels okay to me.”
“Sam, what if you’re right about Sterling? What if he’s not dead? What if he comes after her?”
“Gibbs?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t think about that.” He was silent for a moment. “No, I don’t think he will.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“He has reasons,” I said.
“Things I don’t know?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know what you know.”
“You know exactly what I don’t know. Just tell me, there are reasons?”
“Yes, for sure there are reasons,” I said. I counted the dead women on the fingers of my right hand.At least four reasons,I said to myself.
“Then I’ll call her and tell her that I’m not convinced he’s dead. And she should be careful. Can you get her someplace safe to stay?”
“Let’s say that offer is on the table.”
Again he grew quiet for a few seconds before he said, “I hate situations like this. I hate ’em. The exact same woman who wouldn’t let her kid walk out the front door to ride a bike without a damn bicycle helmet won’t take the simplest step-the simplest step-to keep her own head from getting bashed in by some guy she’s sure loves her. I hate those situations.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” I didn’t know what else to say. Silently and involuntarily my brain was busy translating “to keep her own head from getting bashed in” to a pidgin Spanish version containingcabezasandhachas. Silently but totally voluntarily, I cursed Diane.
“By the way,” Sam added, “I forgot to tell you: The tip the police got on that judge’s husband? About the cocaine? It came from inside the DA’s office. That’s all I could find out. Hope it helps.”
Helps? No, not exactly.All that meant to me was that Jim Zebid, if he learned the same facts that Sam had just disclosed to me-which he most likely would-would have more reason than he already did to believe that it was indeed I who had leaked the information about Jara Heller’s husband’s cocaine problems to Lauren, who had in turn acted on it through some colleague in the DA’s office.
Great.
My second attempt to get out of the office ended almost the exact same way the first had ended: My vibrating pager interfered just before I made it to the door. Once again I dumped my things on the desk. Once again I recognized the phone number on the pager screen.
Gibbs was breathless. She answered before I was certain her phone had even rung. “She just left. Just now! Two minutes ago! How could you? Howcouldyou? I trusted you!”
“Gibbs,” I pleaded. “Slow down, slow down. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“She just left. I can’t believe you told her!”
“Who is ‘she,’ Gibbs?”
“Reynoso. That-that-”
“What is it you think I told her? I haven’t spoken with her since Saturday. I didn’t even know she was still in town.” My defensiveness was too reflexive; I was getting frustrated about the repeated accusations from my patients about my indiscretions with their secrets. And it was showing.
Half a beat passed. Hesitation? A pause to reload? I wasn’t sure. But Gibbs’s fury was turned down a notch when she resumed. “You’re saying you didn’t tell her about the other women? You didn’t tell her what I told you this morning?”
It was apparent from her voice that she wasn’t particularly predisposed to believing that I hadn’t spilled the beans.
I, too, hesitated. The “other women” could have been the ones that Gibbs told me Sterling had slept with during their marriage, or they could have been the ones she told me he had killed. But a quick review convinced me that I hadn’t told Carmen Reynoso about either group of other women. I replayed the events in my head thoroughly enough to convince myself that I hadn’t even known about either group before that morning’s session with Gibbs.
Then I remembered that wasn’t exactly true. I had known about Gibbs’s concern about other murder victims for most of a week; I just hadn’t known details until that morning. But the reality was that I hadn’t revealed the facts of Gibbs’s concern to anyone. I was certain of it.
I said, “No, not a word.”
“You didn’t talk with her today?”
“No, Gibbs. I’ve been here at the office since this morning’s appointment with you. I haven’t shared the information you told me this morning with anyone. I wish you would give me permission, but until you do, I won’t share that information with anyone.”