“He said he was going to bring her by sometime, and I got the impression he was pretty serious about her. I believe her name is Loren, but I don’t know anything else about her.”
I thought of Eddings engaging in personal conversations like this with my staff, and was even less surprised that he had seemed to gain access to me more easily than most reporters who called. I could not help but wonder if this same talent had led to his death, and I suspected it had.
“Did he ever mention to you what he wanted to talk to Dr. Fielding about?” I said as I got up.
She thought hard for a moment, absently rummaging through pictures the world should never see. “Wait a minute. Oh, I know. It was something about radiation.
About hat the findings would be if someone died from that.”
“What kind of radiations” I said.
“Well, I was thinking he was doing some sort of story on X-ray machines. You know, there’s been a lot in the news lately because of all the people afraid of things like letter bombs.”
I did not recall seeing anything in Eddings’ house that might indicate he was researching such a story. I returned to my office and started on paperwork and began returning telephone calls. Hours later, I was eating a late lunch at my desk when Marino walked in.
“What’s it doing out there?” I said, surprised to see him.
“Would you like half a tuna fish sandwich?”
Shutting both doors, he sat with his coat still on, and the look on his face frightened me. “Have you talked to Lucy?” he said.
“Not since I left the house.” I put the sandwich down.
. “Why?”
“She called me–he glanced at his watch-“roughly an hour ago. Wanted to know how to get in touch with Danny so she could call him about her car. And she sounded drunk.”
I was silent for a moment, my eyes on his. I looked away.
I did not ask him if he were certain because Marino knew about such matters, and Lucy’s past was quite familiar to him.
“Should I go home?” I quietly asked.
“Naw. I think she’s in some kind of mood and is blowing things off. At least she’s got no car to drive.”
I took a deep breath.
“Point is, I think she’s safe at the moment. But I thought you should know, Doc.”
“Thank you,” I grimly said.
I had hoped my niece’s proclivity to abuse alcohol was a problem she had left behind, for I had seen no worrisome signs since those early self-destructive days when she had driven drunk and almost died. If nothing else, her odd behavior at the house this morning in addition to what Marino had just revealed made me know that something was very wrong. I wasn’t certain what to do.
“One other thing,” he added as he got up. “You don’t want her going back to the Academy like this.”
“No,” I said. “Of course not.”
He left, and for a while I stayed behind shut doors, depressed, my thoughts like the sluggish river behind my house. I did not know if I was angry or frightened, but as I thought of the times I had offered wine to Lucy or gotten her a beer, I felt betrayed.
Then I was almost desperate as I considered the magnitude of what she had accomplished, and what she had to lose, and suddenly other images came to me, too. I envisioned terrible scenes penned by a man who wanted to be a deity, and I knew that my niece with all her brilliance did not understand the darkness of that power. She did not understand malignancy the way I did.
I put my coat and gloves on, because I knew where I should go. I was about to let the front office know I was leaving, when my phone rang, and I picked it up in the ent it might be Lucy. But it was the Chesapeake police eV
chief, who told me his name was Steels and that he had just moved here from Chicago.
“I’m sorry this is the way we have to meet,” he said, and he sounded sincere. “But I need to talk to you about a detective of mine named Roche.”