dipped to his chest in a
gesture most often seen in boys under the age of six who are being
scolded by a favorite aunt.
"She'll tell you what's wrong soon, but in
the meantime, she really needs support and understanding.
Don't avoid her. Don't be pissy when you have to be in the
same room. And most of all, don't you dare resign. She
adores you, and you know it."
Remorse was eroded by suspicion which
quickly evolved into genuine concern. "Something is seriously
wrong, isn't it? She's not leaving us, is she? Oh
God. I shouldn't have threatened to quit. I should go
back right now –"
"She needs a little space right now.
Don't push, okay? She'll talk to you about this
eventually. Right now, she's a little blind sided, that's
all. That trust thing? It's a two-way street,
Billy. Maya trusts you too."
"She told you what's wrong."
I nodded. "And she will tell everyone
else when she's had time to process it. Right now, today…it's
not the right time."
"All right," he nodded solemnly. "I'll
do what you asked."
Forsythe was a harder sell.
"That was nothing less than shades of Riley
Storm," he spat. Riley Storm was probably the biggest insult
he could've thrown at someone of Maya's caliber of forensic
pathologist. In fact, no one had mourned the loss of Dr.
Storm when Maya replaced him ten months ago.
"That was entirely uncalled for, Ken.
You're going to apologize when she tells you what's happened.
Until then, I'm not sure I want to consider you a friend."
He crossed his arms over his chest.
"Let me see if I understand this correctly, Eriksson. You're
down here apologizing for her and that's supposed to be good enough
to smooth things over after she basically called me an incompetent
fool?"
"I don't know what happened when you talked,
Ken. I do know that sometimes when people are in certain
emotional states that the last people they want to hurt end up
being the brunt of things they don't understand simply because they
are in the wrong place at the wrong time. She doesn't think
you're incompetent. She told me the exact opposite the night
I met you."
"So why isn't she down here apologizing
herself?"
"It's serious," I said softly. "Really
serious. Like first stage of grief, Ken. She needs her
friends to be there for her. Please don't personalize what
happened upstairs. Maya is going through something –"
"Serious," he muttered. "Yeah, you
mentioned it."
"If you didn't care about her, you wouldn't
be so upset by her behavior," I tried to reason with him, but the
wall seemed firmly entrenched. "I'm not asking you to forget,
or even not to expect an apology from her personally. I'm
just asking you to keep the door open and listen to her when she's
ready to talk."
It was all I could do to mend the
bridges. I hoped it would be enough.
Chapter 7
Her eyes were still bloodshot, but the red
blotches on her cheeks were ivory again, and the swelling in Maya's
nose was considerably less. Nothing like cold water to
restore emotional balance to the feminine façade.
Briscoe was uncharacteristically
obedient. He kept his questions focused on the case.
"What've you got for us, Maya?" No snarling. No Winslow thrown out like an epithet.
Good to know that I could still put the fear
of jujitsu in people.
"We got a hit on the fingerprint. Our
victim was not homeless. In fact, he lived in Bay
View." Maya pulled a printout from the file and handed it to
him. "Although I can't fathom what a guy with a pricey
address was doing dressed like a bum in Downey. His name is
Jacob Cox, forty-one years old as of the fourth of July, and as I
suspected I would find at the crime scene last night, he was in
exceptional health. Had he not been murdered, the guy
could've lived to be a hundred."
"Cause of death?"
"This is the big surprise," Maya said.
She whipped back the drape on the corpse
gesture most often seen in boys under the age of six who are being
scolded by a favorite aunt.
"She'll tell you what's wrong soon, but in
the meantime, she really needs support and understanding.
Don't avoid her. Don't be pissy when you have to be in the
same room. And most of all, don't you dare resign. She
adores you, and you know it."
Remorse was eroded by suspicion which
quickly evolved into genuine concern. "Something is seriously
wrong, isn't it? She's not leaving us, is she? Oh
God. I shouldn't have threatened to quit. I should go
back right now –"
"She needs a little space right now.
Don't push, okay? She'll talk to you about this
eventually. Right now, she's a little blind sided, that's
all. That trust thing? It's a two-way street,
Billy. Maya trusts you too."
"She told you what's wrong."
I nodded. "And she will tell everyone
else when she's had time to process it. Right now, today…it's
not the right time."
"All right," he nodded solemnly. "I'll
do what you asked."
Forsythe was a harder sell.
"That was nothing less than shades of Riley
Storm," he spat. Riley Storm was probably the biggest insult
he could've thrown at someone of Maya's caliber of forensic
pathologist. In fact, no one had mourned the loss of Dr.
Storm when Maya replaced him ten months ago.
"That was entirely uncalled for, Ken.
You're going to apologize when she tells you what's happened.
Until then, I'm not sure I want to consider you a friend."
He crossed his arms over his chest.
"Let me see if I understand this correctly, Eriksson. You're
down here apologizing for her and that's supposed to be good enough
to smooth things over after she basically called me an incompetent
fool?"
"I don't know what happened when you talked,
Ken. I do know that sometimes when people are in certain
emotional states that the last people they want to hurt end up
being the brunt of things they don't understand simply because they
are in the wrong place at the wrong time. She doesn't think
you're incompetent. She told me the exact opposite the night
I met you."
"So why isn't she down here apologizing
herself?"
"It's serious," I said softly. "Really
serious. Like first stage of grief, Ken. She needs her
friends to be there for her. Please don't personalize what
happened upstairs. Maya is going through something –"
"Serious," he muttered. "Yeah, you
mentioned it."
"If you didn't care about her, you wouldn't
be so upset by her behavior," I tried to reason with him, but the
wall seemed firmly entrenched. "I'm not asking you to forget,
or even not to expect an apology from her personally. I'm
just asking you to keep the door open and listen to her when she's
ready to talk."
It was all I could do to mend the
bridges. I hoped it would be enough.
Chapter 7
Her eyes were still bloodshot, but the red
blotches on her cheeks were ivory again, and the swelling in Maya's
nose was considerably less. Nothing like cold water to
restore emotional balance to the feminine façade.
Briscoe was uncharacteristically
obedient. He kept his questions focused on the case.
"What've you got for us, Maya?" No snarling. No Winslow thrown out like an epithet.
Good to know that I could still put the fear
of jujitsu in people.
"We got a hit on the fingerprint. Our
victim was not homeless. In fact, he lived in Bay
View." Maya pulled a printout from the file and handed it to
him. "Although I can't fathom what a guy with a pricey
address was doing dressed like a bum in Downey. His name is
Jacob Cox, forty-one years old as of the fourth of July, and as I
suspected I would find at the crime scene last night, he was in
exceptional health. Had he not been murdered, the guy
could've lived to be a hundred."
"Cause of death?"
"This is the big surprise," Maya said.
She whipped back the drape on the corpse
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