She glanced over at the Apple II+ on the writing table. She had bought it second hand as a word processor for her book and it was calling to her now. And well it should. The publisher had refused to authorize an extension of her deadline. They had the book scheduled for next spring's line up and didn't want to change their plans. She had to get cracking.
But she'd been having trouble with the chapter on abortion. Intellectually, she was pro-choice. Emotionally, she was torn. She couldn't help but think that if she and Rob had ended differently—if he had beat her or otherwise mistreated her—she might have had an abortion rather than carry and deliver their child. And then Jill, wonderful Jill, would never have existed. A horrifying thought.
But that didn't explain the conceptual problems she was having with the chapter. She had been deeply disturbed by the latest statistics from India: out of every 8,000 abortions in Bombay, only one of the fetuses was male. The Indian women were having amniocentesis, and if the child was female they were aborting it.
Kara could see that as obstetrical advances filtered down to the over-the-counter level—now there were home pregnancy tests, and soon there would be oral abortifacients, and perhaps even a home amnio kit—the concept of abortion on demand became a two-edged sword. In India, daughters were expensive to marry off, so people were deciding by the thousands not to have daughters. What would a trend like that in the Western countries do to the woman's movement? And what would be the next to disappear? Freckles? Green eyes? Short stature? Mousy hair color? Where would it end?
Maybe that was the approach to take—Where do we draw the line!
Kara was suddenly excited. If she got to work right away, she could get a page done before Jill—
"Mom! Mom!"
Jill came racing into the room and threw her arms around Kara's waist and hugged her. She was trembling.
"Jill, honey! What's the matter?"
"Where were you last night, Mom? Where'd you go?"
"I didn't go anywhere."
"Yes, you did! I came looking for you last night and you weren't here!"
"Don't be silly, of course I was. You must have been dreaming."
Kara looked down at Jill. She was genuinely frightened. She looked as if she was about to cry.
"But I wasn't! I thought I heard a noise and I got scared, so I came in to see you and you weren't here! I called and called but you wouldn't answer me, and I looked all over for you but you weren't here! I was so scared! I thought you'd left me!"
"I was right there in bed all the time. Tell me what you did after that."
"I went back to my bed and hid under the covers. I was crying. I… think I fell asleep again."
"And then you woke up and now I'm here. It was a nightmare, Jill. You only dreamt you were looking for me." She hugged her daughter tightly against her. "I'd never go anywhere without you. You know that don't you?"
Jill nodded. "But it seemed so real!"
"I know." She kissed her. "The worst ones always do. But it's over now, and I'm here, so why don't you get into your robe and we'll go make breakfast."
"Can we have scrambled eggs?"
"Sure."
"Good! I want to try my chopsticks on them!"
As Jill trotted off, Kara sat on the edge of the bed and fished around for her slippers. The mention of the chopsticks brought Rob to mind. He was another reason she was glad to be back at the farm. She'd spent most of the week holding her breath, praying he wouldn't see the resemblance between himself and Jill. How could he miss it? But he had, thank God.
Well there was no sense in worrying about what might have happened. Right now, she had breakfast to cook and a book to write.
She found her slippers and was about to slip them on when she caught a glimpse of the sole of her left foot.
It was filthy.
She checked the right and found the same. The bottoms of both of her feet were covered with dirt. Not house dirt, but outside dirt.
Yard dirt.
But she'd showered right before bed last night. Her feet had been clean, she was sure of it. This wasn't possible, unless…
A chill stole over her. Jill's dream. What if it hadn't been a dream? What if Jill had really come looking for her and she hadn't been here? But where had she gone? Outside? Barefoot? That was crazy!
Crazy. Dr. Gates had said to let him know if anything strange happened—blackouts and things like that. Did he mean sleepwalking, too? Kara had never done that before. At least that she knew.
What's happening to me?
Probably nothing. Probably just a reaction to the stresses of the past week. But if anything like this happened again, she was going to be on the phone to Dr. Gates immediately. As much as she disliked the man, he had a head start on any other shrink as far as this case was concerned.
As Kara put her slippers on and reached for her robe, she realized that the day had suddenly changed. The morning was no longer as bright. The buoyancy she'd felt on arising had vanished, replaced by a leaden weight of uncertainty. The Apple no longer called to her. She sensed it was going to be a very long day. And an even longer night.
▼
4:20 P.M.
"You're spending an awful lot of time on this jumper, Harris."
Rob had been expecting this. He was surprised he'd been allowed to carry it this far. But the time had come and now he was sitting across the desk from Detective Lieutenant James Mooney, chief of Midtown North's detective squad, readying an explanation. Mooney's office was a walled-off cubicle furnished with a standard issue green metal desk. He had a window, but like all the other windows in the precinct house, it was covered with steel mesh. Late afternoon sunlight strained through the mesh.
Mooney himself was a balding, jowly, overweight bulldog who usually had half a cigar stuck in the corner of his mouth. He seemed tough until he began speaking—he had a tendency to whine. But he did manage to keep the precinct's detective squad under tight control and yet remain approachable.
Rob had pulled the weekend along with Mooney. The lieutenant liked to use his Saturdays on duty to close up all the open files that he could.
Rob said, "There's a possibility she didn't go out that window on her own. She may have had a push."
"Forensics doesn't think so."
"Forensics has been wrong before."
Mooney removed the cigar to sip from his coffee mug, the contents of which had come from the bottle in his bottom drawer. Specks of ash fell from the cigar's cold tip onto the manila folder that held the paperwork of Kelly's case.
"I read your report, Harris. You've got one very disturbed girl here, under psychiatric care, on schnozz, who jumps naked through a twelfth floor window from a room where Forensics says there's no sign of a struggle. The M.E. says her body shows no signs of a fight, except for one love bite on her shoulder. We've got people with their heads blown off waiting for their perps to be found. Don't waste your time with this one. Close it!"
That was precisely what Rob was trying to avoid.
"I think we're missing something here, lieu," he said. "I've got a gut feeling that this psychiatrist is involved somehow."
"Anything concrete?"
"No, but—"
"Then close it."
"One more week, lieu. That's all I want. I'll squeeze it in between the DiGilio and Stern cases."
Mooney's eyes narrowed as he looked at Rob.
"You got something personal in this?"