needed to laugh. "What, you
started getting mammograms when you were twenty-five?"
Maya giggled and turned around. Tears
spiked her eyelashes. Her pain still overwhelmed me.
"What will I tell people? How am I supposed to look Billy in
the eye and say, it's not you. I look at this body on my
table and I don't see him right now. All I can see is me
lying there, ravaged by cancer, bald, with no breasts. "
"Maya…" I opened my arms again.
This time, she came to me and held on for dear life. She
didn't notice the whoosh of air at the door, but I did. We'd
have to do damage control with Briscoe and Conall too,
apparently. I'd do it for her. It was the least I could
offer.
"You're gonna get through this. No
matter what happens tomorrow, you will survive. We've got
endless summers of margaritas on my patio ahead of us,
remember? Not so much fog in my neighborhood at night."
"Briscoe and Conall will be here soon.
I should clean up and pull myself together before they get
here. God forbid Briscoe sees me like this. The man is
an insufferable snoop. I suppose that's what makes him such a
good detective."
"They're here," I said. "In the hall
like the lily-livered boys they are. I'll talk to them while
you collect your thoughts on the case. Ten minutes?"
"Thank you, Helen. You're a good
friend."
It was a new compliment, not to mention new
development in my life. I nodded. "Be back in a
few."
Briscoe and Conall were in the hall
whispering conspiratorially. The veins in Tony's neck were
leaping out as he hissed his argument. All I heard was,
"…tellin' you, Johnny would know if she played…"
"Gentlemen?"
Guilty faces snapped to attention.
"Maya is having a bit of a personal
crisis. We're going to give her a little space, and then
we'll get her report on the victim found in Downey last
night. I think you both should find a coffee machine and take
a short break."
"Where are you goin'?"
"Tony, it's none of your business," my voice
was stern, and brooked no argument. "I need to talk to
someone while we respect Maya's need for privacy right now, and
when I come back and we talk to her, you are limiting questions to
the case you're investigating and nothing more. I'm aware
that men are worse gossips than women, so I believe you'll
understand when I tell you this. You really don't want to
throw down with me."
I was certain that Orion had shared our
little episode of hand to hand combat in the parking garage at the
Montcliff Hotel last spring. No way were Briscoe and Conall
unaware of my training in jujitsu. My suspicions were
confirmed when Briscoe merely saluted, kept his mouth shut and
headed off toward the small room filled with vending machines.
Crevan was on his heels a second
later.
Finding Billy Withers wasn't
difficult. All I had to do was listen for the occasional ping
of his tennis shoe against the metal trash can in one of the rooms
along the corridor. He was in the hematology lab, running
blood samples and cursing under his breath.
"Billy?"
"Oh, hey Eriksson. This isn't a good
time right now. I'm –"
"I saw you leave the autopsy bay. You
nearly knocked me over at the door."
"Uh…sorry about that."
"I know that Maya is having a bad day."
He snorted. Silent I'll say radiated from his posture.
"You've known her what, ten months?"
He nodded.
"I've known her for at least six
years. Do you know how many times I've seen her lose her
temper?"
His eyebrows stitched together. "How
many?"
"Once. Today, about fifteen minutes
ago. How many times have you seen her like that in the last
ten months?"
"Never," muttered somewhat unhappily.
I was making my point.
"I can't tell you what's wrong, but I can
promise you that this has nothing to do with you, how she feels
about you personally or professionally or what she thinks of her
job in Bay County. Do you trust her Billy?"
"I did."
"Do you trust her?"
"Yeah," his chin
started getting mammograms when you were twenty-five?"
Maya giggled and turned around. Tears
spiked her eyelashes. Her pain still overwhelmed me.
"What will I tell people? How am I supposed to look Billy in
the eye and say, it's not you. I look at this body on my
table and I don't see him right now. All I can see is me
lying there, ravaged by cancer, bald, with no breasts. "
"Maya…" I opened my arms again.
This time, she came to me and held on for dear life. She
didn't notice the whoosh of air at the door, but I did. We'd
have to do damage control with Briscoe and Conall too,
apparently. I'd do it for her. It was the least I could
offer.
"You're gonna get through this. No
matter what happens tomorrow, you will survive. We've got
endless summers of margaritas on my patio ahead of us,
remember? Not so much fog in my neighborhood at night."
"Briscoe and Conall will be here soon.
I should clean up and pull myself together before they get
here. God forbid Briscoe sees me like this. The man is
an insufferable snoop. I suppose that's what makes him such a
good detective."
"They're here," I said. "In the hall
like the lily-livered boys they are. I'll talk to them while
you collect your thoughts on the case. Ten minutes?"
"Thank you, Helen. You're a good
friend."
It was a new compliment, not to mention new
development in my life. I nodded. "Be back in a
few."
Briscoe and Conall were in the hall
whispering conspiratorially. The veins in Tony's neck were
leaping out as he hissed his argument. All I heard was,
"…tellin' you, Johnny would know if she played…"
"Gentlemen?"
Guilty faces snapped to attention.
"Maya is having a bit of a personal
crisis. We're going to give her a little space, and then
we'll get her report on the victim found in Downey last
night. I think you both should find a coffee machine and take
a short break."
"Where are you goin'?"
"Tony, it's none of your business," my voice
was stern, and brooked no argument. "I need to talk to
someone while we respect Maya's need for privacy right now, and
when I come back and we talk to her, you are limiting questions to
the case you're investigating and nothing more. I'm aware
that men are worse gossips than women, so I believe you'll
understand when I tell you this. You really don't want to
throw down with me."
I was certain that Orion had shared our
little episode of hand to hand combat in the parking garage at the
Montcliff Hotel last spring. No way were Briscoe and Conall
unaware of my training in jujitsu. My suspicions were
confirmed when Briscoe merely saluted, kept his mouth shut and
headed off toward the small room filled with vending machines.
Crevan was on his heels a second
later.
Finding Billy Withers wasn't
difficult. All I had to do was listen for the occasional ping
of his tennis shoe against the metal trash can in one of the rooms
along the corridor. He was in the hematology lab, running
blood samples and cursing under his breath.
"Billy?"
"Oh, hey Eriksson. This isn't a good
time right now. I'm –"
"I saw you leave the autopsy bay. You
nearly knocked me over at the door."
"Uh…sorry about that."
"I know that Maya is having a bad day."
He snorted. Silent I'll say radiated from his posture.
"You've known her what, ten months?"
He nodded.
"I've known her for at least six
years. Do you know how many times I've seen her lose her
temper?"
His eyebrows stitched together. "How
many?"
"Once. Today, about fifteen minutes
ago. How many times have you seen her like that in the last
ten months?"
"Never," muttered somewhat unhappily.
I was making my point.
"I can't tell you what's wrong, but I can
promise you that this has nothing to do with you, how she feels
about you personally or professionally or what she thinks of her
job in Bay County. Do you trust her Billy?"
"I did."
"Do you trust her?"
"Yeah," his chin
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