A Different Blue(153)

that had built in the room.

“You are welcome to look at everything in the file. There are crime scene pictures, though, and

things you might prefer not to see. The pictures are in the envelopes. Everything we know is in

the file. We'll leave you alone for a while if you'd like. Contact information for your

grandmother is there, as well as for your father. Your grandmother is still living on the

reservation, but your father is in Cedar City, Utah, which isn't all that far from there.”

Wilson and I spent another hour pouring over the contents of the file, trying to get a more

complete picture of the girl who had been my mother. There wasn't much to learn. The only thing

that struck me was that when my mother's car had been recovered there was a blue blanket in the

back seat. It was described as having big blue elephants on a paler blue background, and it was

clearly designed for a young child. A picture of it had been tagged as evidence from a possible

secondary crime scene.

“Blue.” The word sprang out of me as a sliver of recognition wormed its way to the surface.

“I called that blanket 'blue.'”

“What?” Wilson looked at the picture I was staring at.

“That was my blanket.”

“You called it Blue?”

“Yes. How is it that I remember that blanket but I don't remember her, Wilson?” My voice was

steady, but my heart felt swollen and battered, and I didn't know how much more I could take. I

pushed the file away and stood, pacing around the room until Wilson stood too and pulled me into

his arms. His hands stroked my hair as he talked.

“It's not that hard to understand, luv. I had a stuffed dog that my mother eventually had to

pry from my hands because it was so filthy and worn out. He had been washed a hundred times, in

spite of the severe warning label on his arse that promised he would disintegrate. Chester is

literally in every picture of me as a child. I was extremely attached, to put it mildly. Maybe

it was like that for you with your blanket.”

[page]“Jimmy said I kept saying blue . . .” The puzzle piece clicked into place, and I halted

midsentence.

“Jimmy said I kept saying 'blue,'” I repeated. “So that's what he called me.”

“That's how you got your name?” Wilson was incredulous, understanding dawning across his

handsome face.

“Yes . . . and all the time, I must have just wanted my blanket. You would think she would have

left it with me, wrapped it around me when she left me on that front seat. That she would have

known how scared I would be, how much I would need that damn blanket.” I pushed away, fighting

out of Wilson's arms, desperate to breathe. But my chest was so tight I couldn't inhale. I felt

myself cracking, the fissures spreading at lightning speed across the thin ice that I had been

walking on my whole life. And then I was submerged in grief, consumed by it. I fought for

breath, fought to rise to the surface. But there was lead in my feet, and I was sinking fast.

“You've had enough for today, Blue.” Wilson gathered me against him and pulled the door open,

signaling to someone beyond the door.

“She's had all she can take,” I heard him say, and someone else was suddenly there beside me.

My vision blurred and darkness closed in. I felt myself being lowered to a chair, and my head