Page 3 of The Drowned Woman
Now Emily was getting into the roleplay. “I cut it off with my space-pirate knife! And now I’ll cut off your head, too!”
“Not before I blast you with my alien ray gun!” Both kids were turned in their seats, filling the air with sound effects as they ducked and wove, avoiding imaginary weaponry.
“Enough,” Leah called out as she pulled into the school drive, behind the other parents’ cars in the drop-off lane. “No one’s shooting or blasting or stabbing anyone. Not here and not in school. You hear?”
“Oh boy, not in school,” Nate said. “You play space pirates and aliens in school and they send you to the dungeon for sure.”
“I think you mean in-school suspension. But I want you guys to think of another game, use your imaginations—”
“But, Mommy—” Emily started, a hint of a whine in her voice.
“Think of a game like Daddy used to play with you. Only instead of the computer, make believe in real life, okay?”
Ian said Emily was a computer prodigy and had taught her programming skills that were far beyond anything Leah could offer—or understand. But with their electronics all taken by the police as evidence, Emily had gone a whole month computer-free. Leah rather liked it.
She edged the Subaru forward to the drop-off point. A volunteer opened the door, helping Emily out of her car seat, while Nate jumped out on his own.
“Have a great day!” She injected a note of false brightness into her voice, trying to mask the undercurrent of anxiety that threatened to devour her every time she let Emily out of her sight. She remembered the words of Emily’s trauma counselor, stressing the need for Emily to return to a normal life. Structure, routine, independence. All vital to the healing process. “I love you!”
Too late—they were already running hand in hand, splashing through puddles, laughing as they raced away from Leah.
She stared after them until the car behind her honked. Jerking with a guilty start, she waved at the other driver and pulled away, steering down Jefferson. Her street. Their street. Would she find the courage to actually stop today? Go inside the house that once upon a time was her dream home?
The crime scene cleaners—trauma remediation, the company called it—had finished their work last week, rescuing as many personal possessions as possible, removing the rest—labeled as biohazards—and repairing the damage left in the wake of the attack on Ian. At least that’s what their bill itemized in excruciating detail. Leah still hadn’t stepped inside, despite Emily’s nightly recitation of things she’d left behind that she really, really, wished and hoped she could have back. Clever girl had even figured out the best way to make sure Leah knew exactly how important each toy or book or stuffed animal or hair clip was by invoking her father.
“Please, Mommy. I need it to help me remember Daddy,” she’d say, hugging Leah tight and whispering it into her ear like a prayer. “Please, Mommy.”
Today Leah slowed the Subaru and pulled to the curb, despite her clammy palms and heart racing so hard she felt her pulse throb in her throat. Nothing to worry about, just a little panic attack. Look, no hyperventilation, no crushing chest pain. Gripping the steering wheel, she forced herself to breathe.I’m fine, just fine.
It was a lie, but one she was willing to live with.
What other choice did she have?
Three
Luka was driving down the mountains west of Cambria City, heading into work, when his phone rang. Naomi Harper, the patrol officer assigned to his team. She was awaiting a potential promotion to detective, which made her the most likely to be given the job of calling the boss with bad news.
“What’s the problem, Harper?” he answered.
“No problem. Just a—a situation. Krichek said not to worry, he just wanted you to know.”
Scott Krichek was almost as green as Harper—the detective had only joined Luka’s Violent Crimes Unit last year. Ray Acevedo, Luka’s second-in-command, was still out on medical leave after getting shot last month, which meant Luka hadn’t only temporarily lost a trusted member of the team, he’d also lost two decades of experience at his disposal.
“What situation?” he snapped, his mood still raw from his pre-dawn pilgrimage.
“It was called in as accidental. Old lady fell down the stairs at her apartment building. DOA.”
“What’s Maggie say?” Despite being younger than either Harper or Krichek, Luka trusted Maggie Chen’s instincts. The coroner’s death investigator had an uncanny ability to see beyond the obvious.
“She’s not here yet. Fog caused a multi-vehicle crash on the other side of the river. She’ll get here soon as she can.”
“Give me the address.”
Harper told him. Luka knew the apartment building, the Falconer. It was in a quiet neighborhood that catered mainly to seniors. Last year, after his gran’s death, he’d tried to convince his grandfather to move there, where Luka could keep an eye on him, but Pops had refused. Said he’d lived on his farm all his life and he’d damn well die there. Luka had eventually compromised by giving up his own place to move across the river to Jericho Fields. Good thing he had, because he now had a nephew to raise, his grandfather to watch, and a live-in caretaker to pay. It stretched every penny of Luka’s paycheck, but so far, he was making it work, and living at the farm kept them all under one roof.
“Even if it looks accidental, treat it as suspicious until we learn otherwise,” Luka told Harper.
“Right. We are. Even found a possible suspect. The husband…” Her voice trailed off as if she were searching for words. “But… he has some kind of mental health issue. Went nuts after he saw his wife’s body. Barricaded himself inside his apartment along with a neighbor who was trying to help calm him down. Before we arrived,” she added hastily. “Patrol called in ERT. We’re still trying to sort out exactly what happened. Krichek wanted you to know.”
