Page 49

L ivia was at the desk in her bedroom, moving between the computer and her notes.

She was starting a rotation through pediatric pathology the following week and was painfully behind on her readings.

The fellows had been given thick binders and textbooks during their orientation week in July that outlined the subspecialties they would be exposed to during their twelve-month forensic fellowship.

The first three months, from July through September, constituted their breaking-in period, where they concentrated only on general forensics.

But starting in November they would begin integrating their skills in forensics with other subspecialties, which for Livia included pediatric path, neuro-path and derm-path.

Preoccupied over the last several weeks with her extracurricular investigation, she hadn’t yet touched her reading material.

Tonight, however, she used the textbooks as a distraction to get her mind off her most recent, and slightly disturbing, meeting with Nate Theros.

By midnight, she was deep into the intricacies of pediatric bone development when there came a knock at her door.

She bolted upright in her chair, the bedroom lit only by the desk lamp and the rest of the house cast in shadows.

She closed her textbook. Still in jeans and T-shirt, Livia waited until the knocking came again.

She clicked on lights as she made her way to the front door, looked through the peephole, and saw Kent Chapple standing on her front patio.

She disengaged the dead bolt and pulled the door open.

“Remember that favor you owe me?” Kent asked through the screen door.

Livia did—from when Kent had let her leave early on the Friday of her ride-along week.

“Yes,” she said with a wry smile.

“I need a couch for the night.”

“It’s that bad, huh?”

“Worse,” Kent said. “No way in hell I’m making it until the kids are in college.”

Livia took an exaggerated whiff of air through the screen door. “Investigator Chapple, is that whiskey I smell?”

Kent raised a hand, his index finger in the air. “Guilty.”

Livia pushed open the screen door. “Come on in.”

Kent slid past her and into her living room, where he collapsed onto her couch.

“Want to tell me about it?”

Kent shrugged. “I’ve tried to explain it to myself a thousand different ways.

Make it sound like something other than what it is.

Something that might be salvageable. I mean, when you’re with someone since high school, it’s hard to admit when it’s over.

It’s hard to say that the first person you ever fell in love with is also the first you ever fell out of love with. ”

Livia walked into the kitchen. “Coffee, water, or soda?”

“I’ll take a whiskey if you’ve got it.”

Livia opened the refrigerator. “No whiskey, but I think I’ve got an old . . .” She crouched down to look on the bottom shelf. “Yeah. An old wine cooler.”

She reached to retrieve it and when she stood up Kent was right behind her. “Oh God! You scared me.”

“Sorry.” Kent smiled as he stared at her.

Livia looked at the label. “Strawberry mango. Not exactly whiskey, but it’s all the alcohol I have in the house.”

Kent took it from her, eyes locked on hers. “Thanks.”

Livia turned and closed the refrigerator, grabbing a mug from the cabinet. She filled it with hot water and dropped a tea bag into it.

Kent twisted off the top of the wine cooler and took a sip. “Tell me about this case you’re so preoccupied with,” he said.

Livia raised her eyebrows. “Am I preoccupied?”

Kent shrugged and sat down. “Had Jen Tilly on ride-alongs this week, and that’s what she says. Says you’re looking into some missing girls, or something, that you think might be tied together. That’s why Colt murdered you in the cage just before ride-alongs.”

Livia didn’t remember telling Jen much about what she was working on, only that it had to do with her decomp from summer. But Livia knew well the ramblings and gossip that went on in the morgue van and could imagine Sanj and Kent egging Jen on to extrapolate on details.

“Don’t know, really,” Livia said as she sat down across from Kent at the kitchen table. “I guess you could say I’ve got as much crap going on in my life as you do in yours. Just different types of crap and different problems.”

Kent stuck out his bottom lip and narrowed his eyes. He looked at his strawberry-mango cooler and then offered it to Livia.

She laughed. “Put it this way: If you’d offered me whiskey earlier today, I might’ve taken you up on it.”

“Nah,” Kent said, a slight slur to the word, like his tongue was swollen.

“Docs can’t tie one on like this on a random weeknight.

All I gotta do is sit in a van with Sanj tomorrow.

If I’m too hungover, he’ll take the entire scene for me.

We cover for each other like that. You? You gotta perform tomorrow.

You gotta be on. Right? Can’t be cloudy with what you do. ”

Livia smiled. “I’m going to get you that coffee after all. I think you need it.”

“Don’t bother,” Kent said. “I’m gonna crash, if that’s okay with you.”

“Couch is all yours.”

Livia watched him take another sip of wine cooler.

“Your job is very important, Kent. You shouldn’t diminish what you do.”

“It’s not that. I love my job. It’s just that I’ve got backup if I need it, that’s all I’m saying.

” There was a pause in their conversation.

“But that’s what I do. I figure out crime scenes.

I document what happened when someone dies.

” He paused again, as if reluctant to go on.

“So that’s why I’m asking about what you’re working on. Maybe I can help.”

“I’m not really working on anything. Not officially, and certainly with no supervision from anyone. ”

“Dr. Cutty’s gone rogue?”

“Hardly. It’s just something personal I have to look into.”

Kent took another sip of strawberry mango. “It have to do with your sister?”

Now Livia squinted her eyes slightly, lifted her chin. Slowly, she nodded. “Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know.”

Kent laughed. It sounded forced and Livia couldn’t tell if it was real or fake. “Hey,” he said. “I made you listen to my problems for a whole week in the van. I can at least return the gesture.”

Livia lifted the tea bag from her mug and placed in on the table.

She took a sip. “Fair enough,” she said.

“Girls have gone missing from this state and two others in the last three years. I think the same guy took them all, including my sister. If I widen the search beyond border states, there have been others, too.”

Kent stared at her with glassy eyes, mouth-breathing in the labored way of a drunk. Livia wasn’t sure he’d remember a thing about their conversation tomorrow, but for thirty minutes she told him what she knew and what she suspected. Kent asked few questions while she talked, just sat and listened.

Finally, he said, “Those are some serious allegations. You talk to the cops?”

“I’m trying. But it’s complicated with the girls being from different states.

It means getting different police forces together, rival detectives pairing up and sharing information.

It’s a tall order for someone with no contacts.

But I’ve talked with the sheriff of Emerson Bay.

He was involved with my sister’s case and sounded like he was willing to help. ”

“I know some of the homicide guys. We have drinks on the weekend. I could ask them for help.”

“Thanks, Kent. I’ll let you know what happens with Terry McDonald first.”

Exhausted by one a.m., Livia stared at Kent. “Why don’t you just tell your wife it’s over?”

This brought Kent back from the place he’d been for the last thirty minutes as he listened to Livia recount her findings from the past few weeks.

When he didn’t respond, Livia continued.

“These last few weeks have taught me a lot. Mostly that keeping things inside and not expressing how we feel doesn’t help anyone.

Most of the time it ends up hurting the people we’re trying to protect.

I still haven’t told my parents how guilty I feel about ignoring my sister in the months before her disappearance.

Or about skipping her phone call that night.

They haven’t yet mentioned to me that they can hardly exist in the house that is a replica of the place it was before their daughter was taken.

Megan McDonald won’t tell her parents that the girl she was before she disappeared doesn’t exist any longer. ”

Livia looked at Kent.

“If you don’t think things are going to change between you and your wife, just tell her, Kent. Don’t tell me. Don’t tell Sanj. Tell your wife. We’ll be there to listen, don’t get me wrong. But tell your wife, Kent.”

Livia stood and took the empty wine cooler from in front of him and dropped it in the garbage. “I’ve got an early morning.”

“Yeah,” Kent said. “Sorry to barge in like this. ”

“It’s no problem. Thanks for listening to me.”

“You too. Oh, one other thing,” he said as he shuffled his body in the chair and reached into his front pocket. “I’m taking your advice.” He pulled out his cigarette lighter, tossed it to Livia. “Keep that as a souvenir for saving my life. I picked up a stress ball.”

Livia stared at the Bic lighter. “Good for you.”

Later, after she got Kent settled on the couch with a pillow and blanket, Livia lay awake in bed.

It was close to two a.m. She thought she heard the floorboards creak outside her bedroom, then heard Kent’s snoring on the couch.

Sleep felt far away. Maybe it was the fact that a man hadn’t spent the night since she started her fellowship, or maybe it was the intimate pictures of Paula D’Amato and Nancy Dee that rolled through her head.

Maybe it was Nate’s chilling descriptions and insights from earlier.

Whatever the reason, Livia lay in bed that night but never found sleep.