Deja Who (Insighter #1)(44)

She giggled in spite of herself and had a quick thought

(you’ve laughed more in the last week than you have in the last year)

that was gone before she could grasp it. “But the police did call. And they don’t leave voicemails like that unless it’s personal.”

“They call you a lot?”

“For Insighter business, yes.” She nodded and realized they were still standing on Archer’s front step. “This was an entirely different voicemail. Personal, you know? I just assumed—but why would they even call me about you? They don’t know how—” Important you are to me. That was the rest of the sentence, the sentence it was much too early to say. The sentence she might never say. “They don’t know we’re, ah, dating.”

“We’re, ah, dating?” He grinned at her, which was a great relief. Yes, let Archer think this was all very cute and very funny, when it was neither. That was fine. It would make things easier, later.

“Yes.”

“The cops left you a personal voicemail?”

“Three, actually. At least.”

“Okay, let’s listen to them.”

She stood on the step, perfectly silent, as she realized, and then uttered a sentence she had never before said: “I dropped my phone and ran out of my apartment in my haste to get to you.”

“Oh my God.” Archer actually staggered, right there on the stoop. “That is so hot. Oh my God.”

“And I think it broke. I can’t be sure. But I heard something break but was in such a rush I didn’t go back to see.”

“Oh. My. God.” He groaned and clutched at her. “You always have your phone, fucking always. You’re one of those. I can’t believe . . . Jesus, that’s hot.”

“Shut up,” she grumped, feeling horribly exposed, like the entire street could see she cared for this idiot. “Just . . . shut up.”

“Ohhhh, you’re so cute.” He clutched her to him and gave her a hearty smack on the lips. She wriggled, but not very hard. “And so hot.” Smack! “And so cute.” Smack! “I said that already.” Smack! “But it’s true.” Smack! “I can’t believe you rushed out of the house.” Smack! “And dropped your phone.” Smack! “And left a shoe behind.” Smack! “In your rush to get here.” Smack! “And show me your cuteness.” Smack! “And parked too close to a fire hydrant.” Smack!

“Get off.” She gave him a light shove (not—she was careful!—on a stab wound) and he backed off, his wide mouth twisting in a good-natured grumble. “I suppose I could call Detective Preston from here, if you’ll . . . oh.”

Archer, too, had gone quiet. Had obviously realized the only person the police would be calling Leah about.

“Oh.” She stood there a moment, thinking. “It’s . . . it’s her. It’s my mother. Isn’t it?”

“Well, unless you’ve got a dad I don’t know about . . .”

“She went to a sperm bank,” Leah replied absently. She tapped her bare foot as she thought. “The whole thing was for publicity. My birth. My childhood. It was to boost her career. I have no idea who my father is.”

“Okay.” Archer’s fingers, rubbing at the knots in her neck she didn’t realize were there. “Okay, so let’s call—”

“No.” Now that she could think again, she took him in at a glance and was relieved he was fully dressed. He was wearing knee-length navy shorts, a crisp, clean T-shirt with the slogan “Home is where the Wi-Fi connects automatically,” and the de rigueur loafers without socks. “Come on.”

He held up a finger, ducked back inside for his wallet, then shut and locked the front door and followed her amiably enough. “I assume you have a plan? Which involves fixing your awful middle-of-the-street parking?”

“It’s McMansion.” No need to even open her door; she’d obligingly left it open for herself. They both climbed in and buckled. “We’re going to her McMansion. It’s where the police are.”

“Oh. You sure?”

“No.”

But they went anyway.





THIRTY


Detective Preston was talking like this was just another day on the job. Which for him, it was.

“The way it looked . . . our crime scene guys say it looks like your mom was trying to stop him, or her, from leaving.”

Leah watched his face as he talked at her and knew that in 1941 his name was Aaron DeSalvo and he loved his big brother more than anything. His big brother protected him from their father; his big brother would goad his father into beating him instead of Aaron. His father knocked out all of Mama’s teeth and his father broke Mama’s fingers and was capable of much worse and his wonderful brother would pull that rage toward himself, his brother took beatings meant for Aaron and Aaron was so, so grateful.

And when his big brother killed neighborhood pets Aaron covered for him. And when his big brother started stealing and beating people Aaron covered for him, and when his big brother started stealing cars Aaron covered for him, and when his brother started strangling old ladies Aaron covered for him, and when his brother started strangling young ladies Aaron covered for him, and when his brother was charged with rape Aaron defended him, and when his brother confessed Aaron defended him, and when his brother went to prison Aaron defended him, and when he was killed in prison by a person or persons unknown Aaron gave up, he gave up and eventually he died a lonely, dismal death and no one cared, or noticed.