Leaving Time(43)

He considers this. “I’ve taken Tallulah out to dinner. Like I said, I’d go for the sea cucumber.”

“Then why are you acting like you want her to plug and play?”

His eyes widen. “You did not just say that.”

“Ride the baloney pony.” I grin. “Storm the trenches …”

“What the hell is wrong with kids these days?” Virgil mutters.

“Blame it on my upbringing. I had a profound lack of parental guidance.”

“And you think I’m disgusting because I have a drink every now and then.”

“(A) I think you drink all the time, and (b) if you want to get specific, what makes you disgusting is that you’re totally playing Tallulah, who thinks you’re planning to ask for her number.”

“I’m taking one for the team, for Christ’s sake,” Virgil says. “You want to find out if your mother was the person who left that hair behind on Nevvie Ruehl’s body? Then we have two choices. We can either try to sweet-talk someone at the police department to order up a test through the state lab, which they won’t do because the case is closed and because the backlog is over a year’s wait … or we can try to get the test done at a private lab.” He looks up at me. “For free.”

“Wow. You are taking one for the team,” I say, all fake wide-eyed innocence. “You can bill me for condoms. I feel bad enough, you know, without having to worry about her trying to trap you in a pregnancy.”

He scowls. “I’m not going to sleep with Tallulah. I’m not even going to ask her out. I’m just going to let her think I am. And because of that, she’s going to do your buccal swab and fast-track it, as a favor.” I stare at him, impressed by his plan. Maybe he is going to turn out to be a decent private investigator, if he’s this wily. “This is what you should say when she comes back,” I instruct: “ ‘I may not be Fred Flintstone, but I can make your Bed Rock.’ ”

Virgil smirks. “Thanks. If I need any help, I’ll ask.”

As the door opens again, Virgil jumps off the table, and I bury my face in my hands and start to sob. Well, I pretend to, anyway.

“My God,” the Cougar says. “What happened?”

Virgil looks just as baffled as she is. “What the f*ck?” he mouths.

I hiccup, louder, “I just want to find my m-mother.” Through damp eyes, I look at Tallulah. “I don’t know where else to go.”

Virgil gets into character, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “Her mom disappeared years ago. Cold case. We don’t have much to work with.”

Tallulah’s face softens. I have to admit, it makes her look less like Boba Fett. “You poor kid,” she says and then she turns her adoring eyes on Virgil. “And you—helping her out like this? You’re one of a kind, Vic.”

“We need a buccal swab. I’ve got a hair that may or may not have been her mother’s, and I want to try to match the mitochondrial DNA. At least it would be a starting point for us.” He glances up. “Please, Lulu. Help an old … friend?”

“You’re not so old,” she purrs. “And you’re the only person I ever let call me Lulu. You got the hair with you?”

He hands her the bag he found at the evidence room.

“Great. We’ll get started on the kid’s sequencing right away.” She pivots, rummaging in a cabinet for a paper-wrapped packet. I am sure it’s going to be a needle, and that terrifies me because I hate needles, so I start shaking. Virgil catches my eye. You’re overacting, he whispers.

But he figures out pretty quick that I’m seriously terrified, because my teeth start chattering. I can’t tear my eyes away from Tallulah’s fingers as she rips the sterile packaging away.

Virgil reaches for my hand and holds on tight.

I can’t remember the last time I held someone’s hand. My grandmother’s, maybe, to cross the street a thousand years ago. But that was duty, not compassion. This is different.

I stop shivering.

“Relax,” Tallulah says. “It’s only a big Q-tip.” She snaps on a pair of rubber gloves and a mask, and instructs me to open my mouth. “I’m just going to rub this on the side of your cheek. It won’t hurt.”

After about ten seconds, she removes the swab and sticks it into a little vial, which she labels. Then she does the whole thing again.

“How long?” Virgil asks.

“A few days, if I move heaven and earth.”

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“I do.” She walks her fingers up the crook of his arm. “I’m free for lunch.”

“Virgil isn’t,” I blurt out. “You told me you have a doctor’s appointment, remember?”

Tallulah leans in to whisper, although—unfortunately—I hear every word. “I still have my hygienist scrubs if you want to play doctor.”

“If you’re late, Victor,” I interrupt, “you won’t be able to get a refill on your Viagra.” I hop off the table, grab Virgil’s arm, and pull him out of the room.

We are laughing so hard as we round the corner of the hallway that I think we might collapse before we make it outside. In the sunshine, we lean against the brick wall of Genzymatron Labs, trying to catch our breath. “I don’t know whether I should kill you or thank you,” Virgil says.