Infinite(40)

I needed to sound convincing as I made up a story, so I used a story that was at least partly true.

“To be honest, Detective, I don’t know. I woke up a few hours ago on Navy Pier, and I have no idea how I got there. I was shocked to discover that I’d been gone for so long. I have no recollection of what happened in between.”

“Navy Pier?” Bushing asked. “Really?”

“Yes. I was sleeping on a bench. Actually, a police officer woke me up. I’m sure he made a note of it.”

“Navy Pier is more than ten miles from here. How did you get there? Did you walk? Take a bus? Did someone take you there?”

“As I said, I don’t remember.”

“Well, what’s your last memory?” Bushing asked.

I hesitated, because nothing that had actually happened in this world meant anything to me. “Everything is pretty blurry. I remember I had dinner with my grandfather on Monday night. Chinese food.”

“But nothing after that?”

“I don’t think so.”

Bushing focused on Tai. “When did you say your husband left home?”

“Tuesday evening around nine. He was going to take a walk in the park.”

He turned to me again. “You don’t remember that, Mr. Moran?”

“No.”

“Do you remember anything at all from that evening?”

“Not a thing.”

“Have you ever had a blackout like this before?”

“Never.”

“Were you drinking that night?”

Tai interrupted. “My husband rarely drinks. The occasional beer or glass of wine, and that’s all. On Tuesday, I made Filipino food for dinner, and we had salabat with it. That’s ginger tea.”

I was surprised to learn that, in this world, Dylan Moran had no problems with alcohol. He’d also shut down his emotions and his temper. And he’d married Tai. Different man. Different choices.

“Do you usually follow a particular route when you walk?” Bushing asked.

“No, not really.”

“Did you see anyone?”

“I already told you, I don’t remember. If Tai says I left the house to go for a walk, that’s what I did. But after that, I have no memory until I found myself on that bench near the lake.”

Detective Bushing dug into the inside pocket of his ill-fitting sport coat and extracted a piece of paper. He unfolded it and handed it to me, and I saw a photograph that matched the picture I’d seen on the front page of the Tribune. It was the woman who’d been killed in River Park.

“Do you recognize this woman?” he asked me.

I shook my head. “No.”

“She doesn’t look familiar at all?”

“No.”

“Have you ever seen her around the neighborhood?”

“I told you, no. Who is she?”

Tai murmured near my ear. “She was murdered.”

I pasted surprise on my face. “Murdered? That’s terrible.”

“In fact, she was stabbed to death in River Park on Tuesday night, Mr. Moran,” Detective Bushing went on. “Her roommate said she went out for a run, right around the same time that you took a walk. Same time, same night, same park. Her body was found the next morning. You can understand why your disappearance was of considerable concern to us, Mr. Moran. Two people in the park, one dead, one missing. I can’t help but wonder if whatever happened to you was somehow connected to the murder.”

“I wish I could help you, Detective. I didn’t know this woman, and I don’t remember anything about Tuesday night.”

The detective’s eyes shifted to my left hand. He took note of the purplish bruises. “What happened to your hand, Mr. Moran?”

I wiggled my fingers, because they still hurt. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t remember how you injured yourself?”

“No.”

“It looks like you hit someone.”

Next to me, Tai laughed. “Dylan? Hit someone? That’s ridiculous.”

“I wish I could tell you what happened, Detective, but I can’t.” Then I added impatiently, “Is that all?”

“Yes, that’s all I have for now. If you do remember anything, please call me right away. Oh, and I wonder if you’d mind if I bagged the clothes you’re wearing and took them with me for analysis.”

“My clothes? Why?”

“Well, I’d like to run forensic tests that might fill in some of the blanks in your memory. For all we know, you may have seen the murder taking place and tried to intercede. If you were involved in some kind of fight in the park, perhaps the person you struggled with left behind traces of DNA on your clothes. Whoever that person is could be a killer.”

His hawk eyes stared at me, and I knew what he was thinking. Or maybe Betsy Kern left her DNA on your clothes. I was pretty sure that he didn’t believe my story of having no memory of the past two days. He thought I was lying, and he wanted me to know it.

“I’m sure my husband won’t object to any tests you want to run,” Tai said. “We both just want to find out what happened to him.”

I interrupted her politely but firmly. “Actually, Detective, I do object. Sorry. No warrant, no clothes. I’ve read about too many innocent people who got railroaded by the police while trying to do the right thing.”