Blood Games. Faye Kellerman

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      We’ll see how it shakes out. Give her a kiss for me. And don’t worry too much about Chris. I’ve seen him a few times. I think he’s moved on to other things.

      Another pause.

      I love you, Gabriel. I love you and miss you very much.

      A very, very heavy heart. He wasn’t angry anymore. His rage at her desertion had been replaced with engulfing sadness. The piano seemed to be calling his name.

      I miss you, too. I’ve got to go practice, Mom. Don’t worry about me. I’m really fine.

      He shut off the computer before she could respond and walked over to the garage where the Deckers had set up a piano studio for him. They were wonderful people—just the best. But they weren’t his flesh and blood.

      Focus, Gabe, focus.

      The subtleties of Chopin never sounded so good.

      AFTER GIVING THE door a firm knock and receiving no answer, Marge stuck her business card in the space between the door and the frame. She was just about to turn around when the door opened and the card fell onto the ground.

      Wendy Hesse looked bleary eyed, dressed in blue sweats, with socks but no shoes on her feet.

      Marge bent down to pick up the card. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Hesse, did I wake you?”

      Her expression suggested confusion. “What time is it?”

      “Four o’clock.”

      Wendy rubbed her eyes. “I was watching TV and I must have fallen asleep.” Several seconds ticked by. “Four o’clock?”

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      “I’ve got to pick up my kids from school.” She put her hand over her mouth. “Is it Friday?”

      “Thursday.”

      “Oh …” She regarded Marge’s face. “You look very familiar.”

      “Detective Dunn, LAPD.” She handed the woman her card. “I was wondering if I could come in.”

      “Of course.”

      Marge crossed the threshold. It was a cool February day in the Valley, but the house was as hot as a foundry. It had been a long time since the interior had experienced fresh air. The place was tidy especially considering the circumstances. Wendy Hesse sat down on a red sofa, and Marge sat next to her.

      “Do you need anything?” Marge asked her.

      “No, I’m …” She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ears. “People have been kind. Some are a little shy about approaching me, but for the most part, it’s been … Thank God for friends.” She needed her hands. “It’s Thursday?”

      “Yes.”

      “Almost two weeks.”

      “Have you gone into his room yet?” When Wendy shook her head no, Marge said, “Would it be possible for me to look around his room? We’re still searching for a reason … all of us. It would be helpful if I could take Gregory’s laptop to headquarters and probe its contents.”

      Wendy looked nervous. “Maybe I should ask my husband about this.”

      “Sure.” Marge waited a beat. “Have you looked at Gregory’s laptop?”

      She shook her head no.

      “Do you know his screen name and password?”

      “I know his screen name. I used to know his password, but I think he’s changed it.”

      “Should we go to his room and see if your password works?” Wendy bit her thumbnail. Marge said, “Or I can bring his laptop out of the room if you’re not ready to go in yet.”

      “I really should talk to my husband about this.”

      “Whatever you want,” Marge told her. “I know that you’re interested in finding a reason—”

      “I don’t know about that anymore.” She inhaled and let it out slowly. “What difference will it make? It won’t bring him back.” Fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “Maybe it’s best to just let it go.”

      “Whatever you think is best.” Marge proffered the woman her card and she took it. “Call if you change your mind.”

      The woman stood and her sorrowful eyes met Marge’s. “Thank you for coming.”

      “Sure.” Marge hesitated, but decided to ask the question anyway. “I understand that videotaping had become Gregory’s favorite hobby. Was he interested in making films?”

      Wendy said, “Gregory was always the one that recorded family events.”

      “So he’s had the interest for a long time.”

      Wendy was silent.

      “Just curious,” Marge said. “Do call if you need anything.”

      When the woman still didn’t talk, Marge turned around and let herself out the door.

      CHAPTER TEN

      RINA LOVED THE quiet of Shabbat morning, when the neighborhood was without construction noise and leaf blowers. Through her kitchen window, she could actually hear birds chirping. Last year there had been a nest of finches in one of her bushes. She had heard a racket of squawks several times every day when the parents had returned to feed the young. Food was primal, and with a big family, much of her life revolved around meals.

      She had been dressed for shul since eight, but Peter was taking his time. So she sat at her kitchen table, sipping coffee and reading the paper—a rare moment of alone time that proved to be short-lived. Gabe came in, dressed in a black long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Behind his wireless specs sat sleepy green eyes.

      “Hey,” he said.

      “You’re up early.”

      “Yeah, I thought I’d catch up on a few things. Get a jump on the day.”

      “Would you like some breakfast?”

      “Yeah, that would probably make sense.” The boy took down a mug from the cupboard and made himself a cup of instant coffee. He was comfortable enough to open pantry doors and raid the fridge without asking permission. He fixed himself a bowl of cereal and began shoveling food into his mouth.

      Rina said, “We’re eating lunch here today if you’re interested.”

      “Thanks, but I’m going out.” He looked at her. “A guy I know is playing a piano concerto at SC. I thought I’d show him support.”

      “That’s very nice. Is he good?”

      “He’s СКАЧАТЬ