Tattooed (7 page)

The camera closed in on Nat while Darcie Hughes made an off-camera exit. “That was Dr. Darcie Hughes, a visiting professor at Saint Mary’s University, who was called in by the Halifax Police Department to excavate the remains found this afternoon by a high school student completing a biology lab.” A gust of wind lifted Nat’s trench coat collar. “Unconfirmed reports suggest that a rubber Halloween mask was found with the remains.”

The segment finished with an interview of the unfortunate high school student Rebecca Chen, who appeared dazed that life would do this to her—and who confirmed that she had glimpsed a rubber Halloween mask. Definitely a coup for Nat, but Kate knew the police would be ticked that a major forensic detail had just been released to the public—before they even knew whether this was a homicide or not.

“Whoa,” Kate said. “I wonder who that poor person is. Probably a wino—” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, damn. I’m sorry, Eddie—”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. It probably is some poor guy out partying who aspirated on his own vomit. It happens.” He dropped the pasta into a boiling pot of water. Steam billowed upwards. A speculative look came into his eyes. “Although, I wonder…”

Kate turned down the volume of the television. “What?”

“That mask…”

“What about the mask?”

“There was a case… .”

“Don’t tell me… . You knew the victim?” Eddie never ceased to surprise her. Before he became a criminal defense lawyer, he had followed his father’s footsteps in the family plumbing business. He had once told Kate that living in Halifax reminded him of the plumbing in an old home, with curious connections and the odd kink here and there.

He shook his head. “No. But I do remember a case that involved a girl who went missing on Halloween… It haunted me… .” His voice trailed off.

“Why? She wasn’t your client, was she?”

Marian MacAdam flashed through her mind
. Don’t go there, Kate.

Eddie stirred the pasta in the pot, studying its contents as if the answer lay in there. “No. This girl—Heather Rigby was her name—went missing the year my daughter was born. I remember cuddling this fragile, vulnerable baby to my chest and feeling horror-stricken that someone else’s daughter could just disappear like that. Heather was the kind of girl you’d want your own kid to grow up to be.” Eddie sounded as if he had known her. Kate suspected he had studied the case carefully, applying his incisive mind to the facts, parsing the details, trying to find an answer to a terrifying question.

And did your daughter grow up to be like her?
Kate wanted to ask. But she didn’t. She never would remind Eddie of what he had lost. Thrown away, was how he put it.

“And this girl was never found?”

Eddie shook his head. “No. There was a lot of media coverage—and even more false leads.” He drained the pasta in a colander. “I wonder if this discovery will give them something solid.”

“Do you think it could be her?”

Eddie shrugged. “Hard to say. On the one hand, I hope it is—her family would finally get closure. They never gave up looking for her, you know.” He turned away, busying himself with the act of serving their meal. Kate took the garlic bread out of the oven, and placed it on a wooden cutting board. She now knew Randall’s kitchen as well as her own, having mooched more than a few meals from Eddie.

Eddie set the plates on the granite counter. A typical bachelor, he didn’t use the table. At least he sat down to eat, Kate thought. They settled down with steaming plates of Bolognese, topped with the freshly grated parmigiano.

“On the other hand, I hope it isn’t this girl,” Eddie said, as if he hadn’t trailed off five minutes before. He twirled spaghetti on his fork. “Especially if it turns out whoever was found in that peat bog met a violent death. I know many families want to have closure, but sometimes not knowing is better than knowing.”

Tell me about it.

“So,” Eddie mumbled through a mouthful of spaghetti, “what is your itinerary for your trip to Europe?”

Kate took a sip of water. Eddie never served wine and Kate never offered to bring any. “Well, Nat and I decided that we’d each choose a country and surprise each other.”

Eddie arched a brow. “That could either be a spectacular idea or…” He dug a spoon into the bowl of grated parmigiano and sprinkled even clumps over his meat sauce. “Let me guess, Italy was your pick?”

Kate grinned. “Uh-huh. I’m all about the food.”

“And Nat?”

“England. I have a feeling I’ll be tramping through a lot of old castles. She’s obsessed with the history there. And the whole royalty thing. She’s hoping to see Kate Middleton’s wedding gown.” Kate rolled her eyes. She would never admit it, but she wanted to see it, too.

“From the sounds of it—” Eddie shook the saltshaker vigorously over his pasta “—each of you choosing a country to plan the itinerary falls into the ‘spectacular idea’ category. You are each passionate about different things—could be very educational for both of you.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

Eddie snorted. “Kate, you don’t need a fat old fart like me trailing you around the streets of Italy.”

Kate put down her fork and stared at Eddie. “What are you talking about? You are not an old fart.”

Eddie shook his head. “I am, Kate. I’m overweight. I chain-smoke. I’m fifty-three years old. Not only that, I’m a recovering alcoholic—”

Kate tried not to let her concern show on her face. Eddie rarely sought sympathy, but he seemed to be fighting the blues tonight.

“Who still has a full head of hair—”
Darn, that didn’t even garner a smile.
She plowed on. “Who is also a brilliant criminal defense lawyer, and a pretty mean cook.” She bit into her garlic bread and, trying to sound casual, mumbled, “Something happen today?”

He stirred his spaghetti around his plate. “No.”

Kate hesitated. They were good friends, but she usually stayed away from the-inner-life-of-Eddie-Bent territory. But there was pain vibrating beneath the surface of his rumpled exterior. She sipped her water. “So what’s up?”

He patted his pocket. Then dropped his hand. She wasn’t sure if he hadn’t pulled out his cigarettes out of courtesy to her, or if he belatedly remembered Randall’s strict prohibition on smoking in his house. The silence between them reminded Kate of when she was little and would sit outside at twilight, holding her breath and wondering if the crickets would sing.

Eddie pushed his chair away from the counter. It scraped against the floor. He made to rise, but then slumped against the back of his chair. “It’s my anniversary today.”

Oh…

Kate’s heart constricted. Eddie never talked about his wife, but it was love, not hate, that stilled his tongue.

“I’m sorry.” Kate put her hand on Eddie’s arm.

He gave her a bleak smile. “So am I.”

“Have you spoken to her recently?” Kate asked.

He shook his head. “She told me not to call her.”

“But she knows you are going to AA and everything, right, Eddie?”

I know what you are trying to suggest, but it is too late,
his eyes said.

“She knows you’re practicing again, right?”

He shrugged. “I’m sending her checks for Brianna’s support, so I presume she has put two and two together.”

“Maybe she hasn’t… .”

He ran a hand over his breast pocket, his fingers caressing the shape of the cigarette package. He pushed his fingers through his hair. “It doesn’t matter, Kate. She doesn’t love me anymore.”

He said it simply. Matter-of-factly. Without an ounce of self-pity or anger.

But the pain in those shrewd, nonjudgmental eyes of his killed Kate.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.” Kate didn’t know what else to say.

“Don’t be, Kate. It was my fault.”

Anger at this unknown woman and the pain she was causing this man who was trying so hard to put his life back together shot through Kate. “What about forgiveness? Isn’t the word in Elaine’s vocabulary?”

“It was once,” Eddie said. “But I’ve had to ask for it too many times, Kate. Every time you ask, it loses its elasticity. Eventually it just snaps like a worn rubber band.”

He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his cigarette pack. “If you will excuse me, I need to obscure my thoughts in a haze of smoke… .”

Kate hated to see her friend kill himself on cigarettes—
he’d started wheezing lately on stairs, and she had promised herself that she would wean him off them this year—but at that moment, she was grateful for anything to help him forget.

“Go ahead. I’ll wash up.”

There wasn’t a lot to do. For a man so disheveled, Eddie was a surprisingly orderly cook. Kate loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, put away the leftovers and cleaned the counters.

It was strange to think that eight months ago, she had stood in this kitchen with a different man, a man so tortured that he had thrown a phone through the window, a man so haunted that he had taken his children to New York… .

Had he called?

She had left her cell phone at home. Deliberately. So she couldn’t obsessively check it for messages.

For God’s sake, Kate, stop acting like you’re in high school.

She hung up the dish towel and walked out to the front porch. It was strange that Eddie didn’t sit in Randall’s back garden to smoke, but Kate guessed that Eddie needed to look outward.

The dogs lounged by his feet. Both thumped their tails, a lazy drumming on the porch boards, as Kate lowered herself into the matching Adirondack chair.

“I never asked you how you are doing on the drunk-driving case.”

Eddie knew her history. He knew the challenge for Kate to stay objective.

“It’s going fine. I’m hoping they’ll settle. But today I met with a new client I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” He turned to look at her. “You look worried.”

“Confused is more like it.”

“I’m listening.”

And Kate knew that, despite whatever was bothering him, Eddie
was
listening. He always did. “Randall referred a new client to me.”

“Frances Sloane?”

“How did you know?”

“He called me just before supper. He was concerned about you.”

“Oh, really?” Kate bent down to pat Alaska’s head so Eddie couldn’t see her face.

“He said you knew her. From a long time ago.”

Kate glanced away. “Yes.”

“It was good of you to see her, Kate.”

Kate threw him a glance. So Randall had obviously told him of her history with the Sloane family.

“I like her. I feel sorry for her. She’s dying. She asked to see me. How could I say no?” She gave a wry smile. “Besides, I thought it would be a one-time deal.”

“It isn’t?”

Kate exhaled. “No. Yes. Well, from a legal perspective, it’s over. But she asked me to help lobby an M.P. to change a law.” She was bound by solicitor-client privilege to not say more. But she wished she could have Eddie’s insight.

Eddie blew out a cloud of smoke, away from Kate. “And did you agree?”