“Officer Lebow?”
“Yes.”
“Are you trying to say that this wasn’t a... a... simple robbery?”
“We’re still trying to figure that out.”
Mr. Dougherty said, “My family. We’ve lived here twenty years, we’ve never had anything like this.” Mr. Dougherty, still talking about his family when he lived alone in his big Tudor house. Still sayingwe, even though his daughter lived in DC now and his wife was gone forever.
“Did your father or mother know anyone who drives a silver compact car? Maybe a Chevrolet Cruze?” It was another cop asking now—a heavyset man, easily twenty years older than Officer Lebow.
“Itwasa Chevrolet Cruze,” Mr. Dougherty said, “not maybe.” But all Robin had heard was that one word.Did.The past tense.
“I need to go to the hospital.”
“Ma’am.”
“St. Catherine’s,” Mr. Dougherty said. “That’s where they are.”
“Thank you.”
She headed back to her car, jogging then running. No one tried to stop her. St. Catherine’s was one town over. But it was physically closer than Tarry Ridge Hospital. She knew where it was, more or less, but she punched it into her phone anyway. She couldn’t bear the thought of taking a wrong turn.
Mr. Dougherty was shouting after her. “Is Eric at home? Do you want me to call him?”
Robin pretended she didn’t hear. As she started up her car, her gaze fell on the front door: uniformed officers and a few men in suits moving through it, a tall man in khakis and a long-sleeved shirt wearing gloves...
A crime scene.
She backed out of the driveway, her mind filling with images she’d never forget: the flashing lights, strangers filing into her parents’home. Those thin latex gloves that came with the man’s job. And blood, pooling under the white sheet, spreading across her father’s chest, the glimpse she’d gotten of his face, eyes wide as she’d never seen them before.
Did your parents know anyone who drives a Chevrolet Cruze?The questions cops asked. As though it would have been normal for Robin to keep a mental tally of the makes and models of all the cars driven by everyone her parents might know. Chevrolet Cruze, though. A Chevy Cruze. She didn’t think she’d ever seen one of those outside of a rental car agency...
The thought lingered in her mind, but only for a few seconds before it was replaced by other thoughts, dark and endless.
BOTH OF ROBIN’Sparents were in emergency surgery. Questioning the nurse at the front desk about it, she learned it was for “bullet wounds.” Nothing more. She couldn’t get a straight answer out of any of the nurses about the location of the wounds, about either of their conditions. “We will let you know, ma’am,” said the nurse at the front desk, using that curt dismissive tone Robin used to hear from certain publicists when she was smack out of journalism school, working as a reporter for a trashy celebrity weekly.
“These are my parents.” She hated the sound of her own voice, the frailty of it. There was quite a crowd in the emergency room tonight—the family of a teenager who’d been in a car accident, a mom holding a toddler, flushed and shrieking from fever, friends of a college student who’d cut her finger on a blender’s blades while making margaritas. She’d heard all their stories while waiting at the front desk, and here she was, the only one who’d come here alone. She moved closer to the nurse. “These are my parents,” she said again, her voice trembling. “They’re all I have.”
The nurse’s face softened. “I know,” she said. “The doctor willcome and speak to you as soon as he can. They’re working hard on both of them, I know that much Ms....”
“Diamond,” she said. “Robin Diamond.”
The nurse’s eyes lit up. “From Daily Culture?” she said. “The film writer?”
“Yes.”
“I love your column.”
Robin made herself smile. “Thanks.”
“I read it every week. I knew you were from around here, but boy... never thought I’d meet you in person,” she said.
“So nice to meet a reader,” Robin said carefully. “Please let me know... as soon as you hear anything. Okay?”
“You bet.” The nurse gave her a smile that was bright enough to restore faith. “And I’m all in for the Femme Seven. Don’t listen to the haters.”
Robin managed a nod. Today’s column. Well, yesterday’s at this point. She moved away from the desk, took a seat against the wall, a few chairs down from the wailing toddler. She felt her phone buzz in her back pocket—a text.Eric.Something stirred within her, the tiniest spark of hope. She pulled the phone out of her back pocket, looked at the text. It was from an unfamiliar number:
