What She Found (Tracy Crosswhite #9)(71)

“How did it happen?”

“The doctors don’t know.”

“She was hospitalized, then?”

Again, Tracy could see the wheels turning in Jorgensen’s mind.

He’d have someone calling every hospital in Southern California.

“Does she know who she is?” he asked. “Did she recall her name?”

“No,” Tracy said, not elaborating any further. She turned to Anita Childress. “I’m going to go. You have my phone number. Let’s talk later.” Tracy turned to leave.

“Detective,” Childress said. Tracy turned back as the young woman approached. Childress paused, then she reached out and hugged Tracy, and Tracy wondered if the young woman had ever experienced that kind of hug, certainly not from her mother.

Tracy returned home to Dan and Daniella. Outside the picture windows a light rain fell, and Dan had lit a fire in the fireplace insert.

Tracy told Dan and Therese all about her meetings.

“An Irish accent,” Therese said. “Do you know where from?”

Tracy didn’t. “I’m not sure it matters.”

“You Americans think we all sound the same, but the accent varies from place to place.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Tracy said. “I meant she’s definitely not Irish.” She explained what the doctors had hypothesized.

“When’s the reunion?”

“Thursday. I’m hoping Jorgensen will at least hold off until then.”

“He’s waited twenty-five years,” Therese said. “He can’t wait a few more days?”

“He was definitely more interested in the story.”

“Well, she was one of their own,” Dan said.

“It made me realize the family’s not going to be able to keep this quiet, no matter how they handle it. The story is going to get out, and I’m not sure how Melissa Childs will handle it. She’s lived an isolated life until now, and suddenly she’s going to be front-page news and on every television in America.”

“Eventually it will die down,” Dan said. “The news always moves on to the next story.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about. I’m worried that whoever did this, whoever killed David Slocum and possibly injured Lisa Childress, will react the way Jorgensen first reacted. They won’t believe she has amnesia.”

“You think she could be in some danger?”

“I think it’s a possibility, unless I get ahead of this. I need to go out again tonight,” she said to Dan. “I need to talk to someone, and I can’t do it at the office.”





C H A P T E R 2 8

Tracy,” Vera Fazzio said when she pulled open the door to their two-story Craftsman home in Green Lake. “Vic didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

“I didn’t get the chance to tell him,” Tracy said. “This is sort of spontaneous.”

“Well, come on in out of the rain,” Vera said, smiling. “Vic’s in the back watching television.”

Tracy walked to the tiled fireplace and considered the pictures on the mantel of Faz and Vera and their son, Antonio, at various points in their lives. It made her think again of all that Anita and Lisa Childress had missed out on.

“Tracy?” Faz entered the room looking confused and concerned. “What’s wrong? What’s going on? You all right?”

Tracy smiled so he wouldn’t worry. “Yes, Faz, I’m fine. I’m sorry to show up unannounced.”

“Don’t be silly,” he and Vera said at the same time.

“You’re family, Tracy. You’re always welcome here. You know that.” Faz and Vera were Daniella’s godparents. During her years working Homicide, Tracy had leaned on Faz too many times to count, but the self-proclaimed big goombah was always there for her no matter the time of day or night.

“Can we talk for a minute?” she said to Faz.

“Sure. Sure. Come sit down.” Faz offered her one of two comfortable chairs near the fireplace. “Let me take your jacket.”

Tracy handed it to him. Faz hung it on an unused brass hook with other coats just inside the front door. Tracy had eaten some of the best dinners of her life at Faz and Vera’s. They’d celebrated various occasions and holidays together, and she’d always found the small Craftsman to be homey, something out of a Norman Rockwell painting with crown molding, multipaned windows and doors, dark hardwood floors with throw rugs, heavy red curtains, and the old-style easy chairs.

“Can I get you anything, Tracy?” Vera said. “A cup of coffee or tea?”

“No, I’m fine, Vera. Really, I don’t want either of you to worry.

Dan and Daniella are fine. This is work related, and I promise I’ll try not to take up too much of your family time.”

“I’ll be in the back,” Vera said. “Stay as long as you like.”

Faz sat in the red leather chair across from Tracy and leaned forward, forearms on his knees. He looked concerned despite her assurances. “What’s going on? What did you want to talk about?”

“I think you know, Faz.”

“What’s that?” His neck and cheeks splotched red.

“I think you know why I’m here.”