Goodbye Sister Disco
Page 24
Hastings said, “That’s what we thought.”
“I want to help,” Cordelia said.
“You have,” Hastings said. He gestured to a woman in uniform. “This is Gerry Willis. She’s a U.S. marshal. She’s going to ride with you to the hospital. You’ll be all right.”
Cordelia said, “Okay.”
Hastings had decided that Cordelia Penmark was not in shock. He had thought she would be. He said, “Your parents will be waiting for you at the hospital. We’ve telephoned them.”
“My mother too?”
“Your mother too. And your sister.”
“Oh,” Cordelia said. “How are they?”
Hastings stopped. The girl worrying about her mother and sister at a time like this. Amazing. “They’re overjoyed,” he said. “They look forward to seeing you.”
Hmmm,” Cordelia said, a slight smile on her face. She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “Thank you,” she said.
“Forget it.”
He wanted to say something else. Something like, It’s over now. Which it was. But he knew she would have nightmares over it for years to come, would flinch at shadows in the night in the following months at least. It would take a while before she would be able to heal. Some never did, and there was a line between healing and nursing grief unnecessarily that was hard to discern. Grief was to be respected, not bowed to. Closure was an illusory concept; you just had to carry on.
It was on Hastings’s mind when he looked at the young lady and told her what he thought she needed to hear. He said, “It’s good to be alive. Remember that.”
“I will,” Cordelia said.
The U.S. marshal led her away to the ambulance.
* * *
Hastings joined Gabler and Klosterman. They were leaned up against a car. Gabler had a cigarette in his mouth.
Hastings said, “You smoke?”
“Once in a while,” Gabler said. “When I’m stressed.”
“But it’s over.”
Gabler shrugged.
Klosterman said, “Probably Virginia Slims.”
“Well,” Hastings said, “there are no children watching. Give me one too.”
Gabler did and handed him a lighter to go along with it. Then Gabler said, “Well, hotshot, now that you wrecked your car, how’re you going to get home?”
“We’ll figure something out. Maybe I can buy another one with the reward money.”
Klosterman said, “There is no reward money.”
A uniformed agent came within shouting distance of them.
“Gabe,” he said. “There’s a Jeffrey Rook on the phone. He says he wants to talk to you right now.”
“Tell him to go fuck himself,” Gabler said, his voice raised. “I’m working here.”
“Yes, sir.”
To Hastings, Klosterman said, “Quick-tempered, these feds. Very volatile.”
Agent Gabler was smiling, an expression of intoxication brought on by exhaustion rather than alcohol. Gabler said, “You guys had lunch yet?”
The cops said they hadn’t.
“Let’s go into town,” Gabler said. “It’s on me.”
THIRTY-NINE
On Christmas Eve, he awoke on his couch from a long nap. He had intended to sleep for about twenty minutes or so, but it had stretched into two and half hours. His arm over his eyes to ward off light. Sounds coming in and out and then he opened his eyes completely and looked over at his daughter. She was sitting in the recliner, her legs draped over the arm. She was eating some sort of yogurt granola mix from a bowl. The sort of thing Hastings didn’t even like to look at.
Amy said, “Did the television wake you?”
“No,” Hastings said. He looked at his watch. “Hmmm,” he said, acknowledging the passage of time.
Amy said, “I can turn it off if you like. I mean, if you want to go back to sleep.”
“No, that’s all right.” He sat up and rubbed his face with his hands. Came out of the hands and looked at the television screen. Cary Grant and Loretta Young skating around on an outdoor ice rink. A seasonal film, Cary Grant playing an angel who falls in love with David Niven’s wife, yet somehow also teaches Niven the true meaning of Christmas.
Hastings said, “Haven’t you seen this before?”
“Yeah.” Amy shrugged. “I like it. Do you want to watch football instead?”
“Not really.” He stood up and went to the kitchen. Thought, Beer or coffee? Then decided on coffee. A couple of minutes later, it was brewing and he went back to the living room and stood behind Amy’s chair.
“Amy.”
“Yes.” Her attention still on the movie.
“I know it’s short notice, but Joe asked if we’d like to come to his house for Christmas.”
Amy turned to look at him.
“We’d have dinner with him and his family,” Hastings said. “You like them, don’t you?”
“They’re okay.”
“So what do you think?”
A pause. Then she said, “Would we have to do it every year?”
Hastings smiled. She was trying to be funny. And in being funny, being brave. He said, “Well, we’ll see how it goes.”
Amy was a twelve-year-old kid, but aware in her way. She had watched the news for the past couple of days and had seen footage of the poor girl who had been kidnapped and she had some knowledge of her father’s role in it, but only some. Too much for a kid to process, but she knew he was tired and would probably need more rest. More important, she knew he was trying.
“I think that sounds fine,” Amy said and gave him a smile.
“Good.”
Hastings came back to the living room with his coffee and sat on the couch. He picked up the newspaper and began reading the sports page. Amy sat in her chair and returned her attention to the The Bishop’s Wife. The cab driver had joined Cary and Loretta on the rink.
Also by JAMES PATRICK HUNT
The Betrayers
Before They Make You Run
Maitland Under Siege
Maitland
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events protrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
GOODBYE SISTER DISCO. Copyright © 2008 by James Patrick Hunt. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.minotaurbooks.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Hunt, James Patrick, 1964–
Goodbye Sister Disco / James Patrick Hunt.—1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN-13: 978-0-312-36156-3
ISBN-10: 0-312-36156-4
1. Police—Missouri—Saint Louis—Fiction. 2. Saint Louis (Mo.)—Fiction. 3. Kidnapping—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3608.U577G66 2008
813'.6—dc22
2007042580
eISBN 9781466825215
First eBook edition: July 2012