He slams his hand down on the table. Her glass wobbles and she tenses, bracing for another outburst.
“Talk! Always goddamn talk, talk, talk. I wantaction!” His gaze burns into hers. Tears leak down the side of his face. His hands shake.
“I know, Peter. I understand. As soon as this case is a wrap, we’ll meet with your doctor, okay? We’ll ask him about medical assistance in dying. We’ll discussallthe options.”
He glowers at her for several beats. “It’s not easy to access MAID with dementia. MAID legally requires you to be cognizant right to the end.”
“I know. But there is some case precedent. We’ll work through it.” She forces a smile. “You and I. Deal?”
“I want it down in writing,” he says, jabbing his finger onto the table. “I want it stated that when I no longer recognize you, Mal, or when I no longer remember the names of my family members, from that point I no longer want to live. That’s when I want MAID. I do not want you struggling to change my pants and wipe my butt and the drool from my mouth.”
For a moment Mal can’t speak.
“Okay?” he says.
“Okay,” Mal says. “We’ll go step by step. But how about you sleep on it tonight and see how you feel in the morning?”
“I’ve been sleeping on it for bloody months. One morning I’ll wake up and it’ll be too late.”
Mal finishes her dinner halfheartedly while Peter sits, watching the fire. She then helps her husband up to bed. He seems particularly tired tonight. She drapes a blanket over him, kisses him, and switches off the lights.
As Mal heads back downstairs to finish her wine by the fire and to mull things over, her cell rings. It’s Lula.
“Hey, Lu,” she says tiredly as she reaches the kitchen. “What’re you still doing up?”
“Likewise, boss. This could wait until our six a.m. briefing, but I figured you’d want to know right away.”
“What is it?”
“We’ve located Vanessa and Haruto North with assistance from Interpol. We—”
“Interpol?”
“The Norths are in Singapore. At their primary residence. Northview is their second home. They acquired the house just over eight months ago. I spoke with them by phone while they were in the presence of law enforcement on the Singapore end, so we can be confident their IDs are solid.”
“How—when did they depart for Singapore?”
“They claim to have been in Singapore at their primary residence for the last six months plus a few days.”
“Bothof them?”
“Both of them.”
Mal’s brain reels. “Beulah Brown says she saw a pregnant Vanessa North next door last week.”
“And here’s the kicker,” Lula says. “Vanessa North is not pregnant.”
“What?”Mal says.
“Vanessa North is not pregnant. She’s in her midforties and says it would be a miracle if she was.”
JON
October 28, 2019. Monday.
Three days before the murder.
Jon sits with Mia in a discreet booth. It’s 9:34 p.m., and they’re in a small piano lounge downtown. He’s got a buzz on from the drinks he downed before he arrived, and from the cocktails he and Mia have already shared. A hot, sexual energy crackles over his skin. Daisy and the unborn baby are fast fading to a peripheral wilderness in Jon’s mind. His focus is solely on the seductive woman in his presence.
