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Hannah dropped a tea bag into a cup and poured in some water. “But is that how you usually operate? Based on statistics? I thought you went into each case with eyes open, no presuppositions. No tunnel-vision stuff.”
Hardy studied her for a moment, then said, “You mentioned something about bacon.”
“I did.”
“I’ll need a shower.”
“I’ll join you,” Hannah said.
Twenty-Nine
Andrew
Isabel wanted to meet for a coffee first, before taking me to the hospital to see Elizabeth. She suggested the Starbucks on the Boston Post Road, just west of the turnpike. When I got there, she was sitting at one of the outside tables, both hands wrapped around a paper cup as if using it to keep herself warm, even though it was about seventy-five degrees out. There was a second cup on the other side of the table.
“I took a chance on a latte,” she said. “It’s still warm. I just sat down.”
Isabel buying me a coffee had me wondering whether I’d entered the Twilight Zone. I didn’t know whether this was a peace offering or a trap. Maybe she had a sniper positioned somewhere across the road, ready to take me out.
“A latte is fine, thanks,” I said, taking a seat. “How’s Norman?” I decided not to mention that he had tried to call me the night before.
She looked downward. “Oh, you know. Norman’s Norman.”
“So tell me what happened with Elizabeth.”
I had always liked Brie’s mother. A straight shooter, spoke her mind, but at the same time knew when to hold her tongue. She never stuck her nose into other people’s business, kept her opinions about how her children lived their lives to herself. But, not surprisingly, we had become estranged after Brie’s disappearance, which I attributed largely to Isabel persuading her that I was the cause of it.
Isabel’s chin quivered slightly. “She doesn’t have all that much longer. She has cancer. It’s all through her.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant it. “I didn’t know. I’ve always liked her.”
“She wants to talk to you.”
“Okay.”
Isabel said, “You know about what happened yesterday morning. On Mulberry. Where you used to live.”
Word was getting around, but I wasn’t surprised to learn that she’d very likely been talking to Detective Hardy.
“I know.”
“After we found out about that, Albert and I went there and talked to the people who live in the new house that got built where yours used to be. And to your old neighbor, Max.”
Just to confirm my suspicions, I asked, “I guess it was Detective Hardy who called you.”
“Not exactly. Albert and I called her before we’d talked to Max.”
I was getting confused by the timeline here. “So Max called you? After he’d been in touch with me and Hardy?”
Isabel shook her head quickly. “No, shit, I’m leaving out the most important thing.” She took a moment. “When we were visiting Mom yesterday, from her room, looking down at the parking lot, we thought we saw Brie, or someone who sure looked like her. She waved to us, like she knew who we were.”
It was coming into focus now. Hardy had hinted that this woman who looked like Brie had been seen someplace else.
“I don’t know who or what we saw,” Isabel said. “But then last night—early this morning would be more accurate—Mom saw her again.”
“Okay,” I said slowly.
“She says Brie came to her hospital room. I think she imagined it. The nurses, no one saw anything. It was the middle of the night. Visiting hours had ended at nine. Mom’s on all sorts of medications. I blame myself, well, myself and Albert, for getting her all hyped up. We brought Max in to tell her what he’d seen because, well, you know Mom. She takes some convincing on things. She’s not what you’d call a fan of conspiracy theories. I realize now it was a huge mistake. It put the idea into her head that Brie was … alive … and so then she has this vision in the middle of the night.”
