Eyes of a Child (38 page)

But the zoo itself had seemed to overwhelm her, and none of her formerly favorite things – the petting zoo, the orangutans, or the merry-go-round – drew any response. Finally, Terri suggested a ride through the zoo in a motorized train; Elena could sit in her lap and take things in as she chose.

Now, moving past the seal pool, Elena settled back against her mother. The day was gray and a little chilly. The train was not crowded, and Terri and Elena – sitting alone near the end – could talk as they chose. The rolling, parklike setting seemed far away from police or questions, and the bump and rattle of the train had a certain lulling quality.

The next animals they saw were polar bears. Mammoth and white, two shaggy white bears lumbered across a rocky terrain with a moat to keep them from escaping. For no discernible reason, one of the bears reared on its hind legs and emitted a growl toward Terri and Elena. A year ago, Elena might have shivered with a child's delight at being frightened; the child she had become buried her face in Terri's shoulder until her mother assured her that they had moved past the creature.

Elena looked tentatively into her mother's face. ‘Were you scared?' Terri asked.

Elena nodded. Slowly, she said, ‘The policemen scared me too.'

Behind her, grizzly bears went by unnoticed, and then a rhinoceros. ‘How did they scare you?' Terri asked.

Elena looked away. ‘Miss Warner said not to be. But they asked all about Daddy.'

Terri tried to sound casual, as if she were curious only because Elena had mentioned it. ‘What about Daddy?'

The little girl gazed at Tern's lap. ‘When you guys were fighting.'

Terri studied her. ‘Even grown-ups argue sometimes, Elena. Do you remember anything about us fighting?'

A short nod. ‘You said you would kill Daddy.'

The words, fearful yet certain, made Terri's skin feel cold. Even at six, part of a child's mind was literal: Richie's death lent meaning to things that Elena could not comprehend. And then, struggling to explain, Terri thought of Ramon Peralta.

‘Your father was drunk,' she said softly. ‘Do you know what “drunk” means?'

Elena hesitated. ‘You act crazy?'

Terri nodded. ‘Very crazy, sometimes, and I love you too much to have let your daddy be like that around you. I was just trying to tell him that.'

For the first time, Elena looked up at her. The zoo train cruised by a jaguar and two Indian elephants, ignored by the dark-haired child whose eyes now searched her mother's. ‘Did you want to kill Daddy?'

Though Terri was prepared for this, the question shocked her. ‘Of course not,' she said finally. ‘Why do you ask that?'

Once more, Elena turned away: Terri found that something in the child's profile, so much like Richie's, unsettled her. ‘Because of me,' Elena said.

Terri pulled her daughter close to her, kissing her forehead. ‘I love you more than anything, sweetheart. But killing people is wrong.'

As if in answer, Elena's arms tightened around Terri. ‘I didn't tell them, Mommy. Only Miss Warner, a long time ago.'

‘Tell them what?'

‘What you said to Daddy.' Elena's voice was soft and fearful. ‘I won't get you in trouble. I promise, okay?'

Terri felt her stomach wrench. ‘You don't need to promise, Elena. You don't need to be afraid for me.'

Elena shook her head. ‘They'll take you away from me. If a mommy or daddy gets in trouble, that's what they do. Then I could never see you again.'

Terri pulled herself back, holding Elena to see her face. ‘Who told you that?' she asked.

Instead of answering, Elena insisted, ‘I didn't tell them. I wouldn't talk about you.'

Terri remembered asking Elena about Carlo, the child's face turning to the wall, the silent refusal to speak or even look at her. ‘Daddy told you that, didn't he?' Terri said softly. ‘About taking parents away.'

Elena nodded, her voice hovering between pride and confusion. ‘He told me about
all
his feelings. All the things that scared him.'

‘Like what?'

Elena looked down again. ‘Chris took you away from Daddy,' she answered. ‘He was helping you take
me
away too. I had to stay with Daddy, or he'd be all alone.'

The simple words, repeated like a catechism, frightened Terri for Elena more than anything the child had said. Her hatred of Richie returned as fresh as when he was alive. ‘Your daddy was a selfish man,' Terri said without thinking. ‘He didn't love me or you or anyone. All that he wanted was
you
to feel sorry for him, and
me
to take care of him.'

Elena's eyes filled with tears. ‘That's not true,' she exclaimed. ‘Chris was Daddy's enemy. I told them all about it.'

‘Who?'

‘The policemen.' Pausing, Elena's voice took on a new determination. ‘I wouldn't leave Daddy, and so Chris killed him with a gun. He's going to jail, Mommy. Forever.'

When there was a knock on his office door, Paget turned, hoping for Terri. And then Lynch and Monk came through the door with a bearded medical technician.

They've come to arrest me, Paget thought at once. Steeling himself, he asked, ‘What do you want?'

Monk watched Paget's hand, frozen halfway to the telephone: Paget knew that Monk had followed his thoughts perfectly. Then Lynch shook his head. ‘All we want is prints,' he said evenly. ‘And blood.'

In his self-disgust, Paget almost laughed.

Monk and Lynch sat at Paget's desk like two corporate lawyers ready to negotiate a deal. Lynch put fingerprint cards and an ink pad on Paget's blotter, while Monk handed him some papers. A search warrant, much like the one for Paget's home and car. Except this warrant authorized the holder to take fingerprints and sample blood from Paget's body.

Paget looked at the ink pad, then at Lynch. ‘You could have done this a while ago,' he said, ‘instead of stringing things out.'

Lynch, pushing forward a card, shrugged his apology. Paget held out his right hand. Silent, the technician took it; he placed one finger at a time on the ink pad and then on the card, rolling it from side to side. Paget turned to Monk. ‘In fact,' he continued, ‘you
would
have, Charles. If it had been up to you instead of Brooks.'

Monk looked him in the face. But he said nothing: to acknowledge the question would be to admit that he could not answer.

The telephone rang. It might be Terri, Paget thought. As it rang, the technician turned the tips of Paget's fingers into prints on a white card.

The telephone stopped ringing.

Paget's mouth was dry. The technician pulled out a thin silver needle and a glassine bag. Silent, Paget undid a shirt cuff and rolled up the sleeve of his left arm.

The technician punctured the inside of his arm. With a fixed expression, Paget watched the bottom of the bag turn a deep red, and then the cop put a Band-Aid where the needle had been.

‘Thank you,' he said.

Leaving, Monk did not look at Paget. Lynch and the technician trailed after.

Checking voice mail for messages, Paget left inky smudges on the numbered buttons of his telephone. The inside of his arm stung.

The call had been from Terri. There was a problem with Elena; Terri could not explain by telephone. Her voice, coming from an outdoor pay phone, sounded strained and preoccupied. When Paget called her apartment, no one answered.

Paget went home and made himself a drink, waiting for Carlo to return from basketball.

Chapter
17

‘In a single day,' Harris said the next afternoon, ‘Elena finds herself being torn between her teacher, the police, her dead dad, mom, mom's boyfriend, and maybe even the boyfriend's son. If I had known all that was happening, I'd have gone to the school myself.'

Terri slumped in her chair. ‘I'm taking her out of there as soon as I can.'

‘I don't see that you have much choice. Even without having slapped that foolish woman.' Harris paused. ‘You look exhausted.'

Terri shrugged helplessly. ‘I couldn't sleep, and then Elena had her dream again. This morning she looked worse than I do.'

Harris seemed to reflect. ‘Elena needs protection from whatever this is about Richie.' She paused for emphasis. ‘No matter what comes next.'

Terri gave her a direct look. ‘I don't know where Elena's thing about Chris is coming from, Denise. Unless it was Richie telling her that Chris was his enemy.'

Harris's eyes met Terri's. ‘Is there any possibility,' she said softly, ‘that Elena got this suspicion of Chris from
you
?'

Terri felt herself flush. ‘No.'

Harris fell silent. Finally, she asked, ‘Who are the people Elena feels most loyal to?'

‘Loyal?' Terri repeated. ‘My mother, me – Richie when he was alive, and maybe still. Anyone else is pretty well down the list.'

‘Including Chris?'

‘Definitely including Chris. Well below Carlo, I think.'

‘Because it's funny,' Harris went on. ‘Working with Elena, I tend to agree with you that – for whatever reason – she blames
herself
for Richie's death. It's nothing she says. But whenever I mention Richie, she gets a shamed, almost furtive look, as if she feels guilty. If that's right, she
could
experience blaming Chris as a kind of relief.'

‘Relief?'

‘From holding herself responsible. For Elena, blaming Chris has got to be easier than placing the onus on someone much closer.' Harris watched her. ‘Especially if the alternative is you.'

Suddenly, Terri's weariness verged on sickness. ‘Why can't she accept that Richie's death was an accident?'

Harris seemed to form a bow with her lips: the effect was the most openly pensive look Terri had yet seen from her. ‘I don't know,' she answered. ‘I just don't know.'

Terri touched her eyes and then slowly shook her head. ‘All I ever wanted was some sort of normal life. For a moment, in Portofino, I almost believed I'd have one.'

Watching her, Harris was quiet. And then Terri remembered Chris in Portofino, smiling at her, in the moment before Rosa had called. ‘What is it?' Harris asked.

Terri turned away. ‘Poor Chris,' she murmured.

Naked, Terri lay against Chris's chest.

‘Do you think this will end it?' she asked. ‘Quitting the race?'

Chris gazed at the bedroom ceiling. The look in his eyes was distant. ‘I turn this over in my mind now,' he said finally. ‘Again and again, night after night. What do they have? I ask myself. What do they
think
they have? All I ever get from it is another night without sleep.'

Terri had never seen Christopher Paget so lost. She had gone from Harris's office to find him, driven by the instinct that he needed her. Now, lying in his bed in the light of late afternoon, the duality of the moment left her without words: the man she loved, and wished to comfort, was suspected of killing the father of her child.

‘What are you afraid of?' she asked. ‘Tell me, Chris. Please.'

Chris did not seem to hear her. But she could see the truth in his eyes: whatever Chris might believe about James Colt, he knew that this was not merely politics. ‘Sleeplessness does funny things,' he said finally. ‘I have these visions of being put away somewhere, without you, without seeing Carlo through to manhood. It's mental melodrama, like a road company
Les Misérables
.'

Terri lay there, silently stroking his hair, trying to remember his expression and tone of voice when he told her he did not kill Richie.

‘So what do we do now?' she asked softly.

Chris turned to her at last. ‘Right now?'

‘Yes. I can't see past this moment, Chris. You're going to have to help me.'

He touched her face. ‘Feeling lonely?'

‘Not lonely, Chris. Alone.'

Slowly, Chris nodded. ‘I understand. If, after this is over, I never again feel distant from you, I'll have what I most want in life.'

It was the first time today that he really seemed to be
with
her. She slid across his chest, her face over his.

Chris gazed up at her. ‘This may be a stupid question,' he said. ‘But how
are
you, anyhow?'

‘Lousy, thanks. My daughter's seriously depressed, my boyfriend can't talk to me, and the police think that one of us killed my late husband.'

‘That's all?'

‘Not quite.' Tern's voice changed, and she looked into his face. ‘I have the nightmare almost every night now. It's like my subconscious won't leave me alone.'

Chris's eyes met hers. For a strange moment, Terri imagined that he was about to tell her something – she did not know what, or why. And then Chris kissed her, and the moment passed.

‘I love you,' he said.

Terri slid her down his body, lightly resting her fingers on his stomach. ‘You're lonely,' she said softly. ‘And I'm lonely.'

He smiled into her eyes. A moment later, Terri could feel him responding to her touch.

Paget felt himself come alive. All that he could think about was Terri.

His mouth moved across her stomach, her breasts, the warm hollow of her neck. The scent and feel of her skin and hair filled his senses as he touched her. The sounds she made were like a pulse inside him.

In his life, only Teresa Peralta had done this to him.

Right now she was all that mattered. As he entered her, Terri's eyes met his. For that moment, time stopped for him.