The Cutting (12 page)

‘Did you ever talk to Sandy about it?’

‘I tried. Maybe not hard enough, but I did try. Unfortunately, every conversation with Sandy ultimately ended up being about Sandy. How busy her new life was. How difficult it was adjusting to a new husband. Especially one who doesn’t want children. How she wasn’t sure she was ready emotionally to be a mother again. Sandy just went on and on. I can repeat each of those conversations verbatim. Each time it would get to a point where I couldn’t listen anymore and I’d slam down the phone in a rage. It would take me weeks to work up the energy to try again.’

‘There’s been no contact at all in three years?’

‘No. Just some expensive Christmas and birthday presents. The last one didn’t even come with a card. It just arrived. We figured it was from Sandy because we didn’t know anyone else who’d send her something from Tiffany’s.’ There was an edge in his voice again, the anger coming back like an old familiar friend.

McCabe walked to the kitchen to pour himself another Scotch. Then he decided not to. The last thing Casey needed if she wanted to talk about any of this was for him to be incoherent. He rinsed out the Waterford glass and put it on a high shelf where it wouldn’t get accidentally bashed. Then he sat down again by the window.

‘You know, when the job came up in Portland, I told people – myself included – living in a smaller city would be healthier for Casey. The job would be less demanding. I could spend more time being a father. It was all true, but I was also using distance to help Casey rationalize Sandy’s neglect. I figured being three hundred and fifty miles away might soften the impact of having a mother who didn’t care enough to ever find out how she was doing.’

‘Do you think it worked?’

‘Not really. When Casey showed me Sandy’s picture this morning, it was obvious having a mother was something she’s been thinking about. I asked her if she wanted to see Sandy again. She said no. Then she asked me if we were getting married. You and me. She wanted to know if that would make you her mother.’

‘What did you tell her?’

‘That we might be someday, but we weren’t there yet.’

‘That was the right answer.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. For now, anyway. Let me ask you something else. You might find this hurtful, and you can always tell me to shut up and mind my own business – but since you’re talking about us getting married, I guess it is my business. You just said moving away from Sandy, moving to Portland, was all for Casey’s benefit. Wasn’t it, at least a little, for yours as well?’

He wasn’t sure where this was going. ‘How so?’

‘After the divorce, wasn’t there some small part of you that rejoiced? Some small part that shouted, “Whoopee! I get the prize. I get to keep this beautiful little girl and Sandy doesn’t. I get all of Casey’s love and Sandy doesn’t get any”? By packing up and moving six hours away, weren’t you trying to make sure it stayed that way?’

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘No. Absolutely not.’ McCabe spoke quietly. ‘Am I glad Casey’s living with me and not with Sandy? Absolutely, but if you’re asking if I’m happy my thirteen-year-old daughter feels abandoned by her own mother and, as a result, more dependent on me, the answer is no. No way. Not then. Not now. Not ever.’

‘Okay, if that’s true and the answer really is no, shouldn’t you welcome Sandy’s efforts to reconnect? Seems to me Casey’s got a right to get to know her mother. You said yourself that might have been what she was asking to do when she showed you the picture. What an amazing coincidence it is that Sandy calls up the very same day. I realize, if they do see each other, it won’t make up for what’s already happened, but don’t you think it might be a start?’

McCabe stared into Kyra’s eyes and said nothing. Maybe she was right. She probably was. Yet, for now, there was still too much anger, too much hurt for him to admit it.

Finally Kyra stood up. ‘Okay. I’m going back to my own place now. Sarah’s mother said she’d bring Casey home. When she gets here, try not to react purely emotionally. Think hard about what you say about Sandy and how Casey should react to the idea of seeing her again. Think how it will affect your relationship with your daughter. Not just now but for a really long time.’ She leaned down and kissed McCabe on the lips. He barely noticed. Then she left.

McCabe dialed Sandy’s number in New York. She picked up on the second ring. He was a little surprised she was home on a Saturday night. ‘Hello, McCabe,’ she said. ‘I thought I might be hearing from you.’ She spoke in that smooth, throaty growl he knew so well and once found irresistible. Like a young Lauren Bacall leaning against the door in
To Have and Have Not.
‘You know how to whistle, don’t you, Steve? You just put your lips together and blow.’

‘How are you, Sandy?’

‘I’m very well, thank you, and yourself?’

‘Couldn’t be better. Thank you for asking.’

‘What can I do for you, McCabe? I mean, now that we’ve established that we’re both feeling fine. We are feeling fine, aren’t we?’

‘Not entirely. I don’t think you should come up to Portland. At least not now. Casey doesn’t want to see you, and neither do I. Aside from anything else, I’m in the middle of a major murder case.’

‘I know. It even made the New York papers. Banner headlines in the
News
and
Post.
MURDER IN MAINE. TEENAGED GIRL RAPED AND MUTILATED
. Quite Gothic. Your boss certainly has a way with words. I’m not sure Casey wouldn’t be safer here in Manhattan. All we have is your common garden-variety crazies.’

‘As I said, Casey doesn’t want to see you.’

‘Did she tell you that?’

‘She did, in fact. Even before you called.’

‘Well, we may have a problem with that, McCabe. In case you’ve forgotten, I am Casey’s mother, and I intend spending some time with my daughter before any more time passes.’

‘Your daughter? You have the brass to actually call her that after walking out because Daddy Big-Bucks didn’t want to “raise other people’s children.” That was the phrase, wasn’t it, Sandy? “Raise other people’s children.” You know me. I never forget a phrase – or anything else, for that matter.’

‘Let’s not let this get nasty, McCabe. As Casey’s mother I have a perfect right to see her and spend time with her. I don’t want to have to go to court to protect that right, but I will, and thanks to Peter – or Daddy Big-Bucks, as you so charmingly call him – I can afford the best lawyers in the business. So please let Casey know, if you don’t mind terribly, that I’ll be coming up Friday and taking her down to Boston for the weekend. She and I have a lot of catching up to do.’

McCabe hung up the phone, poured himself another Scotch, then poured it down the sink. He reached for the phone again and called Bobby.

Estelle answered. ‘McCabe residence.’ He should have been prepared for Estelle’s shrill greeting. She’d worked for McCabe’s brother for ten years. Somehow he never was.

‘Hi, Estelle.’

‘Michael, darling, how are you?’ Her piercing tones assaulted his eardrums.

‘I’m doing okay. How are you?’

‘Aside from my gallbladder, not bad.’

McCabe decided not to ask about her gallbladder. ‘Is Bobby there?’

‘I’ll see if he can talk.’ Bobby was a hotshot personal injury lawyer and McCabe’s older brother. His only brother since Tommy had been killed.

‘What’s up, Mike?’ Bobby always got right to the point. There was a moment of silence.

‘Sandy called.’

‘Okay, so Sandy called.’

‘She wants to come up to Portland and see Casey.’

‘A fairly normal desire for a child’s mother. I’m surprised she hasn’t called earlier.’

‘I just want to know if there’s any way I can stop her.’ Bobby didn’t do divorce work, but he was tough and smart and usually knew the right answers.

‘Stop her? I don’t think so. At least not legally. We’re talking visitation here. Not custody. Am I right?’

Jesus. Custody. McCabe hadn’t even considered that possibility. ‘Custody hasn’t come up,’ he said.

‘Well, it seems to me no judge in his right mind would try to keep a mother from seeing her child. What did the divorce decree say about Sandy’s rights to see Casey?’

‘Not a lot. The phrase was “reasonable contact on reasonable notice.” But you’ve got to remember Sandy never contested the divorce. It was just something the judge felt ought to be in there.’

‘Okay, so now, after three years, your ex-wife wants to reconnect with your daughter. I don’t necessarily see that as bad for Casey. Neither will any family court judge. It might be different if she posed some kind of physical threat to Casey.’

‘Emotional threats don’t count?’

‘Maybe if the mother was provably psychotic, but even there you probably have to establish a reasonable likelihood of physical harm.’

‘Provably self-centered, uncaring, and narcissistic just doesn’t cut it, huh?’

‘’Fraid not. A weekend visit is “reasonable contact,” and she’s giving you “reasonable notice.” If I were you, I’d just take it as a positive sign that Sandy wants to see Casey and leave it at that. I think it’ll be good for Casey to get to know her mother, warts and all.’

‘What if she does decide to seek custody?’

‘Cross that bridge when you get to it.’

‘Maybe I should just kneecap the bitch.’

‘Watch your mouth, asshole. Anybody hears a gunslinger like you even whisper threats like that and you not only lose Casey, you could also lose your job. By the way, speaking of mothers, Thanksgiving’s at my house this year. Mom’s getting too old to do all that work. I’m assuming you and Casey will be there. You can bring your girlfriend if you want. What’s her name again?’

‘Kyra. Her name is Kyra. Try to remember it. Anyway, we’ll try to get there. How’s Mom?’

‘Fragile. Getting a little forgetful. I keep thinking about Aunt Joy’s Alzheimer’s and wonder if it’s in our genes. Weird in your case. Like, what do you get when you cross a photographic memory with an Alzheimer’s victim?’

‘Beats me.’

‘I don’t know. How about somebody who never forgets all the things they can’t remember? Forget it. Not funny. Anyway, you’re coming?’

‘Assuming I’m not up to my ass in dead teenagers.’

‘Yeah, I heard about that. Scumbag actually cut her heart out?’

‘Jesus H. Christ. You heard that on the news?’

‘Yep. Your boss is giving interviews. “We will leave no stone unturned to find the killer or killers.”’ Bobby was doing a passable job of mimicking Shockley’s public persona. ‘Sonofabitch ought to be on Mount Rushmore. I take it you were trying to keep the heart thing quiet.’

‘Trying to. Though I don’t know if it really matters.’

‘Anyway, we have people for dinner. Give my love to Casey and to, uh … and to, uh … what did you say your girlfriend’s name was?’

‘Good-bye, you asshole.’

11

Sunday. 7:30
A.M.

Maggie stopped by McCabe’s desk. She was wearing black jeans, a black T-shirt and black high-top Keds, accessorized with a black holster and sidearm. There were circles under her eyes.

‘You alright?’ asked McCabe.

‘I was out late last night. Didn’t get much sleep.’

‘New boyfriend?’

‘Yeah.’ She paused. ‘Maybe.’ Another pause. ‘Could be.’ She shrugged. ‘He’s a nice guy – but it was only our second date.’

‘How’s he feel about dating a woman who wears a gun?’

‘Apparently fine,’ she said. ‘Unlike Ryan, I think he’s secure enough to handle it. Anyway, I got a call from Terri Mirabito.’

McCabe waited.

‘She won’t have the final tox report for a while yet, but the initial screening indicates no trace of any anesthetic drugs in Katie’s body. Or any other drugs, for that matter. Just a little alcohol. If that holds up, and Terri thinks it will, Katie was fully conscious and her heart was beating when our freaky friend started cutting her up.’

McCabe winced. ‘Shit,’ he said.

‘My sentiments exactly.’

‘How much alcohol?’

‘Not much. Apparently it was part of her last supper. He treated her to beluga caviar and champagne just before killing her. They found traces of both in her stomach.’

‘A little farewell party?’

‘I guess. Also, they’re pretty sure he had sex with her multiple times both front and rear.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Nothing critical. We’ll have to ask Terri when she’s less pissed off. Right now she’s very pissed off.’

He imagined Katie, battered and sexually abused, being forced to eat caviar and champagne as a prelude to her own death. It was hard not to share Terri’s anger. ‘I want to call a cop in Orlando,’ he told Maggie. ‘It’s that thing I mentioned in the car. I’ll see you in the conference room in about fifteen minutes.’ McCabe had scheduled a meeting of the detectives involved in the two cases.

‘I’ll be there.’

He called the Orlando, Florida, police department as soon as Maggie left.

‘Sergeant Cahill,’ he said to the voice on the other end. ‘Aaron Cahill.’

McCabe found himself wondering if Cahill was still a cop, wondering if he was still in Orlando, wondering if there was a chance in hell he might have come to work early on a Sunday morning. If not, he’d try to get a cell number. Waiting, McCabe drummed his fingers on the surface of the desk. He glanced at the picture of Casey.

‘This is Cahill.’ A deep, Johnny Cash-like voice with traces of the Florida panhandle boomed over the phone line. Apparently Cahill had come to work.

‘Sergeant Cahill? This is Sergeant Michael McCabe, Portland PD.’

‘Two oh seven? Is that Maine or Oregon?’

The Johnny Cash-like sound was uncanny. McCabe half expected Cahill to burst into a chorus of ‘I Walk the Line.’

‘Maine.’

‘What can I do for you?’

‘Elyse Andersen?’

‘What about her?’

‘We’ve got one of our own.’

‘No shit? Same MO? What do you know about the Andersen case?’

‘The MO’s not identical, but close enough. What I know is what I read in the
Sentinel
coverage.’

‘Which is?’

‘Your vic’s nude body was accidentally discovered by a construction crew about three weeks after death. That part’s not similar. Our body was dumped in a scrap yard in the middle of town. The part that is the same is that the cause of death was the removal of the girl’s heart, and in both cases the ME says whoever removed the heart knew what he was doing.’