place for over twenty thousand dearly departed. Jack leaned back against
the car and followed Frank’s gaze.
“So any leads?”
The detective dug a toe in the dirt. “A few. None of them really going
anywhere.”
They both straightened up as Kate rose, laid a small arrangement of
flowers on the mound of dirt, and then stood, staring off. The wind had
died down, and although cold, the sun was bright and warming.
Jack buttoned his coat up. “So what now? Case closed?
Nobody would blame you.”
Frank smiled, decided he’d have that smoke after all. “Not by a fucking
long shot, chief”
“So what are you gonna do?”
Kate turned and started to walk toward the car. Seth Frank put his hat
back on, pulled out his car keys.
“Simple, find me a murderer.”
“KATE, I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL, BUT YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME.
He didn’t blame you for anything. None of this was your fault. Like you
said, you were pushed into the middle involuntarily. You didn’t ask for
any of this. Luther understood that.”
They were in Jack’s car driving back into the city, The sun was eye
level and dropping perceptibly with each mile. They had sat in his car
at the cemetery for almost two hours because she didn’t want to leave.
As though if she waited long enough he would climb out’of his grave and
join them She cracked the window and a narrow stream of air engulfed the
interior, dispelling the new-car smell with the thick moistness that
heralded another storm.
“Detective Frank hasn’t given up on the case, Kate. He’s still looking
for Luther’s killer.”
She finally looked at him. “I really don’t care what he says he’s going
to do.” She touched her nose, which was red and swollen and hurt like
hell.
“Come on, Kate. It’s not like the guy wanted Luther to get shot.”
“Oh really? A case full of holes that gets blown apart at trial leaving
everyone involved, including the detective in charge, looking like
complete idiots. Instead you have a corpse, and a closed case. Now tell
me again what the master detective wants?”
Jack stopped for a red light and slumped back in his seat.
He knew that Frank was shooting straight with him, but there was no way
in hell he was going to convince Kate of that fact.
The light changed and he moved through traffic. He checked his watch. He
had to get back to the office, assuming he had an office to go back to.
“Kate, I don’t think you should be alone right now. How about I crash at
your place for a few nights? You brew the’ coffee in the morning and
I’ll take carle of the dinners.
Deal?”
He had expected an immediate and negative response and had already
prepared his rejoinder.
“Are you sure?”
Jack looked over at her, found wide, puffy eyes on him.
Every nerve in her body seemed ready to scream. As he walked himself
through the paces of what was, to both of them, a tragedy, he suddenly
realized that he was still totally oblivious to the enormity of the pain
and guilt she was experiencing. It stunned him, even more than the sound
of the shot as he sat holding her hand. Knowing before their fingers
ever parted that Luther was dead.
“I’m sure.”
That night he had just settled himself on the couch. The blanket was
drawn up to his neck, his bulwark against the draft that hit him chest
high from an invisible crevice in the window across from him. Then he
heard a door squeak and she walked out of her bedroom. She wore the same
robe as before, her hair drawn up tightly in a bun. Her face looked
fresh and clean; only a slight red sheen hovering around her cheeks
hinted at the internal trauma.
“Do you need anything?”
“I’m fine. This couch is a lot more comfortable than I thought it would
be. I’ve still got the same one from our apartment in Charlottesville. I
don’t even think it has any springs left. I think they all retired.”
She didn’t smile, but she did sit down next to him.