Magic hour: a novel (50 page)

There it is.

A mound in the earth, covered with stones.

“Mommy,” Alice says, pointing to the rocks. It is a word she thought she’d forgotten. Once, long ago, her mommy had kissed Alice the way Jewlee does . . . and tucked her into a bed that smelled like flowers.

Or maybe these are dreams. She can’t be sure. She remembers a glimpse, a moment: Her bending down, kissing Alice, whispering
Be good for Mommy. Remember Her.

“Oh, baby . . .” Jewlee pulls Alice into her arms and holds her tightly, rocking her back and forth.

Alice wishes her eyes would water like a real girl’s, but there is something Wrong with her. Her heart hurts so much she can hardly stand it. “Love Jewlee,” she says.

Jewlee kisses Alice, just the way the mommy used to. “I love you, too.”

Alice smiles. She is safe now. She closes her eyes and falls asleep. In her dreams she is two girls—big girl Alice who knows how to count with her fingers and use her words to make herself understood. On the other side of the river is baby Brittany, wearing the pants called diapers and playing with her red ball. The old mommy is there with her, waving good-bye.

Alice knows she is sleeping. She knows, too, that in the world where she is only Alice, she is in Jewlee’s arms, and she is safe.

J
ULIA STOOD BENEATH THE MAPLE TREE IN
S
EALTH
P
ARK WITH
A
LICE
asleep in her arms. No one had told her where to go or what to do after the Search and Rescue team dropped them off at the fire station, and yet somehow she and George had ended up here, like shells washed ashore, at this place where the search had begun. The
whop-whop-whop
of the helicopters and the peal of the sirens were finally fading away.

“What now?” George asked, looking dazed and confused, as if he weren’t really waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know. Ellie is going back to the crime scene tomorrow with all kinds of experts.”

“Did you hear what he did to my baby? How he tied her like a dog and—”

“Stop.” Julia turned to him, seeing the pain in his eyes, the tears. They didn’t have all the facts yet—there were tests to run and results to wait for—but all of them knew the truth.

George hadn’t done this to his family.

“I’m sorry, George.” She wanted to say more but couldn’t. She felt as if she were made of chalk and crumbling away bit by bit.

“I guess we’ll talk later. When it all . . . fades.”

“I don’t think it will fade for us, George, but yes, later would be good. Right now I better get my girl home.” Despite her best intentions, her voice caught on that.
My girl.
“Our girl, I mean.”

He reached out cautiously, touched Alice’s back. His dark hand looked huge between her shoulder blades. “I never stopped loving her.”

Julia closed her eyes.

She couldn’t think about this now or she’d fall apart. With a mumbled apology, she turned away from him and walked briskly toward her truck.

She was almost to the sidewalk when she saw Max.

Light from the nearby street lamp cascaded down on him, made his hair look silvery white. His face was all shadows.

Slowly, he crossed the street toward her. His boot heels were loud on the worn, bumpy asphalt; each step matched the beating of her heart.

He moved in close, the way lovers did. “Are you okay?”

Try as she might, she couldn’t stop the tears from flooding her eyes. “No.”

He took Alice from her and put the sleeping child in her car seat. Then he did the only thing he could do: he took Julia in his arms and let her cry.

B
Y THE TIME
E
LLIE FINISHED WRITING HER REPORT AND SENDING OUT
faxes and e-mailing the right agencies, she was exhausted.

She pushed away from her desk, sighing heavily. It was only ten o’clock, but it felt much later.

There was nothing more she could do tonight, so she got up slowly and walked through the station, turning off lights as she went. The off-site 911 service was probably besieged with questions. It was something she’d deal with tomorrow.

Outside, the night was still and quiet. A slight breeze tugged at her hair and made the fallen leaves dance along the rough sidewalk.

She was almost to her cruiser when she noticed George. He was leaning against a streetlamp. He wore no coat; he must be freezing.

She went to him.

He didn’t look up at her approach.

Ellie had never been good with words and none came to her now.

He looked at her. “All the big city cops who followed me around, and it was you who found the truth.”

“I had Alice.” Ellie remembered a moment too late. “Brittany.”

He leaned down and kissed her on the lips. It wasn’t a romantic kiss, but still she felt its impact.

In other days, other times, this feeling would have been enough to make her reach for him, to deepen the kiss into Something. Now, instead, she drew back.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“It doesn’t change everything,” she said, hearing the crack in her own voice. “Alice needs my sister. Without her . . .”

“She’s my daughter. Can you understand that?”

Ellie’s voice, when it finally arrived, was barely there. This was the place truth had sent them. “Yeah. I know.”

TWENTY-FIVE

B
Y THREE O’CLOCK THE NEXT DAY ALL OF THE MAJOR NETWORK
and cable news channels were interrupting regularly scheduled broadcasts to report on the discovery of Zoë Azelle’s body in the deep woods of Washington State. Crime lab analysis had confirmed her identity, as well as that of the man who’d been there, too. His name was Terrance Spec, and he’d had a long history of problems with the law. He’d been convicted of first-degree rape twice. He’d also been a suspect in all those Spokane prostitute disappearances a few years ago, but no solid evidence had ever turned suspicion into probable cause. He’d been killed in September—a hit-and-run accident on Highway 101.

Every newspaper and radio station and television show proclaimed George Azelle’s innocence.

The jury system had failed, they said. A man everyone from waitresses to senators had blown off as a “guilty son of a bitch” had been innocent. Pundits from CNN and Court TV—especially Nancy Grace, who’d called him a vicious sociopath with a killer smile—were busy wiping the egg from their made-up faces.

Now, George stood at the podium in the police station with his lawyer. They’d been answering the same questions all afternoon. The revelation that the wolf girl—so easily discarded as sensationalism by them only a few weeks before—was his daughter only fueled the fire. The headline
LIVING PROOF
was even now being inked across millions of newspapers.

Ellie stood at the back wall, shoulder-to-shoulder between Cal and Peanut, watching the show.

She felt Cal’s gaze on her. In fact, he’d been watching her too closely all day. Wherever she went, he was there, standing by but saying nothing. “What?”

“What what?”

Peanut laughed. “You two are gonna have to quit with the philosophical discussions. I can’t keep up.”

Ellie ignored her friend. “What, Cal?” she said, irritated.

“Nothing.”

“If you’ve got something on your mind, you might as well spit it out. We’ve been friends long enough that I know when you’re pissed off about something. What did I do?”

She expected him to smile at that, maybe make some smart-ass geek boy response, but he just stared at her. After a second or so she started to feel uncomfortable.

Finally, he smiled, but it didn’t light his eyes. “I don’t think that’s true, El. In fact, I think you hardly know me.” With that, he walked away, went back to his desk, and sat down. Putting on his headset, he pulled a sketch pad out and began drawing.

Ellie rolled her eyes.

Peanut didn’t smile.

“He’s going all Napoleon Dynamite again,” Ellie said, irritated.

“There’s a rumor going ’round town,” Pea said. “I heard it this
A.M.
myself. From Rosie at the diner who heard it from Ed at The Pour House.”

“I’m guessing it’s about me.”

“It seems a certain female police chief was seen kissing a certain famous out-of-towner last night. Right in the parking lot in front of everyone. Oh, and did I mention his track record with women?” She made a tsking sound. “Not good.”

Ellie winced. “Actually, he kissed me.”

“Well, that makes a world of difference.” Peanut sighed and shook her head. It was exactly how she responded when one of her kids was making her crazy. “Ellie, you’re a fool. There, I finally said it. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up and see what’s in your own backyard—we both have—but clearly that isn’t going to happen. A good-looking felon comes to town and you’re all over him like gray on Seattle. In fact, I hear wedding bells now. Who cares that he’s going to take Alice away from Julia and break all our hearts? What matters is he’s got a great smile and a big dick and he knows how to use them both.”

“In the first place, it was a kiss, not a blow job. In the second—”

Peanut walked away from her.

Ellie ran after her. “Come back here, damn it. You can’t say something like that to me and just walk away.” She grabbed Peanut’s arm and spun her around. There were reporters clustered around them, but Ellie didn’t care. “I didn’t go for him, Peanut.”

“From what I heard—”

“Did you
hear
me, damn it?
I didn’t go for him.
Zero. Zip. Nada. He did kiss me—and I could have turned it into something, but I didn’t. He’s going to take Alice from us, for God’s sake. How can you think I’d sleep with him?”

Peanut frowned. “Really? You didn’t—”

“Kept my jeans zipped, as my dad used to say.”

“Why?”

It was Ellie’s turn to frown. “Alice is more important.”

“Nothing used to be more important to you, El, than a good-looking man.”

“Things change.” Ellie thought about that; it made her smile. Feel free.

“I’m proud of you.” Smiling, Peanut slung an arm around her. Together, they headed back to Peanut’s desk.

“Hey. What did you mean
we
? You said
we
both have been waiting for you to see.”

Peanut shrugged. “Someday you should think about the people who love you, El.” She looked down at her watch. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be in court?”

Ellie glanced at the clock. “Shit. George is already gone.” She ran for the door.

By the time she reached the courthouse, it had started to rain. Cold, icy drops that fell from a sad gray sky. She parked on the street out front and ran up the steps.

At the closed door of the judge’s chambers, Ellie knocked.

“Come in.”

She opened the door to a large, austerely decorated room. Books lined all the walls. A huge desk dominated the center of the room; behind it sat the judge.

Julia stood near the corner beside a huge potted plant. Both attorneys were seated in front of the judge’s desk. George stood all alone on the left side of the room.

“Everyone is here,” the judge said, putting on her glasses. “The circumstances have changed since the last time you came to me.”

“Yes, Your Honor,” said George’s attorney.

The judge looked at Julia. “I know how much you care about Brittany, Dr. Cates. You also know how the system works.”

“Yes.” The word seemed to deplete Julia, leave her smaller. “I know Mr. Azelle is a victim here, as much as Alice is, and I hate to further hurt him, but . . .” She paused, as if gathering her courage, then looked up at the judge. “His needs must be second to hers.”

The judge frowned. “In what way?”

“She needs more time with me. She loves me . . . trusts me. I can . . .” Her voice slipped, caught on desperation. “Save her.”

Ellie went to Julia, stood beside her.

“Will she always be a special needs child?” the judge asked gently.

“I don’t know,” Julia answered. “She’s come so far. She’s extremely bright, though. I believe she can rise above her past, but for many years she’ll need constant care and treatment.”

“There must be special schools for kids like her,” George said.

“There are,” his attorney answered. “And other doctors who could treat her. Your Honor, Mr. Azelle is a victim here. We can’t compound his tragedy by taking his daughter away again.”

“No,” the judge said. “And I’m sure Dr. Cates knows that.”

Julia turned to George. “She has no idea who you are, George. I sympathize with you, honestly I do—I was up all night thinking about what you’ve suffered—but the truth is, your daughter is what matters now. Father is a concept she can’t understand yet, and if she were taken away from me now—abandoned again—she could regress. She’d almost certainly retreat back into silence and howling and self-mutilation. She isn’t ready. I’m sorry.” She stared at him, willing him to believe her. “Maybe you could move here for a few years. I would keep working with her. We could slowly—”