Lost(36)

The girl Magda was comforting quieted down. After a few minutes, Magda realized she had fallen asleep in her arms. Magda looked through the window to see the moon one last time for the night.

She settled the younger girl on an air mattress, then lay down on her own thin mattress and stared up at the ceiling. It was only then, after trying to comfort the two other girls in the room for most of the evening, that she wanted to cry as well.

Magda wondered who would comfort her.





CHAPTER 52



Miami


I KNEW EVERYONE in Miami, and as more information came from Marie Meijer, that was really starting to pay off.

I had run down a dozen tips and confirmed some details, but we still didn’t know exactly how the load of humans was going to come into the United States. And as much as I wanted to know everything about the case and get it done as quickly as possible, I had other responsibilities.

That’s why at lunchtime I drove my FBI-issued Ford Explorer at incredibly unsafe speeds back to my home in Coral Springs. I was well aware of the FBI restrictions on vehicle use, but sometimes you just had to be efficient and flout the rules. In my case, sometimes was all the time. My sister claimed I had a complex about authority and enjoyed breaking rules. I could never admit to her that she was right, I did enjoy it. Breaking rules had become my hobby.

My mom had a doctor’s appointment, and I’d decided to take her to it since my sister had already done a lot more than her share of looking after her. I was also starting to worry about Lila’s drinking, but I was still working out a way to talk to her about it.

That’s why I didn’t mind taking my mother to the neurologist, just across the county line in Boca Raton.

My mom had been acting a little differently recently. I’d really noticed it since I’d gotten back to Miami. It wasn’t just being in the moment versus living in the past; she had started to get confused about exactly where she was and she wasn’t shy about expressing that confusion.

In the car on the way to the doctor’s office, my mom asked, “Are you going to bring those kids by the house again? It was wonderful having young people around.”

“I don’t think so, Mom. They were just visiting.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll be supplying me with grandchildren anytime soon?”

“Not unless I kidnap them. If I go the normal route, it could take a while. First I have to find a woman that I’m attracted to. Then we have to date and fall in love. We should share the same goals with regards to kids. And then, finally, we’d start the process of having one. I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

“Nonsense. A tall, handsome, educated man like you should have his pick of women.”

“Says his mom.”

She laughed at that. The laugh lines that formed around her eyes made me smile. It was just like when I was younger, when I could talk to her about anything.

We got to the doctor’s office and I checked us in while my mom took a seat in the lobby. There were a few people there, the usual assortment of elderly men accompanied by concerned wives or children. I had seen it all before in the three-year odyssey of my mother’s disease.

While we were sitting there waiting, out of the blue my mom said very loudly, “Where are we?”

“At Dr. Spirazza’s office.”

“Who? Why aren’t we at Dr. Goldman’s office? I like her.”

“Because Dr. Spirazza is a neurologist. He might be able to give us some tips on how to manage your issues.”

My mom said, “What issues?” Her voice got louder; it was starting to make me nervous. “The only issue I have now is that I’m not seeing Dr. Goldman.”

I could see in her posture and movements that she was getting agitated. I had no real response to it. The man sitting next to her slid over another seat. A woman who was accompanying her father gave me an understanding look. But my mom became more upset.

I held her hand and stroked her arm, but it had no effect. I kept my cool and finally thought of something. I looked at my mother and said, “What’s the difference between a jellyfish and a lawyer?”

The question immediately caught her attention and she calmed down. She was intrigued as she considered the options. Finally, she asked me, “What’s the difference?”

“One is a spineless, poisonous blob. The other is a form of marine life.” It was an old joke, but it made her laugh hard. And then, for no apparent reason, she went back to normal and started quietly flipping through an AARP magazine.

The woman with the older man smiled and said, “You’re a pro, aren’t you?”

“You can catch my show nightly at the Improv.”

Even my mom chuckled at that one.





CHAPTER 53





NO ONE EXPECTS a philosophy major to be terribly organized. And by FBI standards, I was not. That didn’t stop me from being effective, but still, sometimes the mess got to me.

It took me an hour to get my office just the way I wanted it. Stacks of papers that had been sitting on the credenza behind the desk were now in either the shred basket or the filing cabinet. The stuff pinned to my bulletin board was updated. I recognized that some of the previous reminders, like a to-do list from two and a half years ago that I’d carried with me from the Miami Police Department, were probably no longer useful.