“I think she’ll understand.”
“I hope so,” Tracy managed. “I miss her so much.”
“Me too,” Kim said.
Kim and Tracy looked into each other’s eyes. Then Kim reached out and put his arms around his former wife. Tracy put hers around Kim, and they hugged, pressing themselves against each other as if they’d been involuntarily separated for years. Another long moment passed until Kim leaned back to look Tracy in the eye. “It’s like old times to feel close to you like this.”
“Very old times,” Tracy agreed. “Like in a previous life.”
Kelly Anderson looked at her watch. It was almost one-thirty. She shook her head. “He’s not coming,” she said to Brian Washington.
Brian adjusted the TV camcorder on his shoulder. “You really didn’t expect him to, did you?” he asked.
“He loved his daughter,” Kelly said. “And this is her funeral.”
“But there’s a policeman right outside,” Brian said. “They’d arrest him on the spot. The guy would have to be crazy to come.”
“I think he is a little crazy,” Kelly said. “When he stopped in to my house to get me interested in his crusade, he had a wild look in his eye. He even scared me a little.”
“That I doubt,” Brian said. “I’ve never seen you scared. In fact, I think you have ice in your veins, especially with as much iced tea as you drink.”
“You more than anyone should know it’s just an act. I’m scared every time I go on the air.”
“Bull,” Brian said.
Kelly and Brian were standing in the foyer of the Sullivan Funeral Home. There were a few other people milling about and whispering discreetly. Bernard Sullivan, the proprietor, was standing near the door. He was clearly anxious and glanced repeatedly at his watch. The funeral service had been booked for one o’clock, and he had a tight schedule for the day.
“Did you think Dr. Reggis was crazy enough to kill someone like they said in the paper?” Brian asked.
“Let’s put it this way,” Kelly said, “I think he was pushed to his limit.”
Brian shrugged. “I guess you just never know,” he said philosophically.
“Maybe the good doctor’s absence is understandable,” Kelly said. “But, for the life of me, I can’t understand where Tracy is. She was Becky’s mother, for God’s sake. And she has no reason to avoid the law. I’ll tell you: this has me worried.”
“What do you mean?” Brian asked.
“If the good doctor has really lost it,” Kelly said, “it wouldn’t be so far-fetched to think that he might blame his former wife in some twisted way for his daughter’s death.”
“Oh, geez,” Brian said. “I never thought of that.”
“Listen,” Kelly said, suddenly making up her mind. “You go call the station to get Tracy Reggis’s address. I’ll go have a chat with Mr. Sullivan and ask him to page us if Tracy Reggis shows up.”
“You got it,” Brian said.
Brian headed back to the funeral-home office, while Kelly walked over to the funeral director and tapped him on the ann. Twenty minutes later, Kelly and Brian were in Kelly’s car, gliding to a stop in front of Tracy’s house.
“Uh-oh,” Kelly said.
“What’s the matter?” Brian asked.
“That car,” Kelly said. She pointed to the Mercedes. “I think that’s the doctor’s car. At least it’s the car he was driving when he came to visit me.”
“What should we do?” Brian asked. “I don’t want any madman running out of the house with a baseball bat or a shot gun.”
Brian had a point. Following her scenario, Reggis could very well be in the house holding his former wife as a hostage or even worse.
“Maybe we should go around and talk to the neighbors,” Kelly suggested. “Somebody might have seen something.”
At the first two houses they approached, no one responded to the front doorbell. The third bell they rang was Mrs. English’s, and she answered the door promptly.
“You’re Kelly Anderson!” Mrs. English said excitedly, after taking one look at Kelly. “You’re wonderful. I see you on TV all the time.” Mrs. English was a diminutive, silver-haired lady who looked like the quintessential grandmother.