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Lorraine has the ability to be invisible when she wants to be. She placed some kind of savory seafood stew in front of Cindy along with a basket of bread and her cold drink. I thought about Cindy’s point.
Yes, people had been killed in other cities on the days Cindy had done book signings. Dozens. Hundreds. And three of the victims we were considering part of Blackout’s tally—the Fleets and Jacob Johnston—were killed in San Francisco. No book signing. And no videos, either. And to her point, Blackout had never mentioned Cindy. Pieces of the puzzle did not fit neatly together. It was maddening. Blackout was maddening.
I wanted to say Blackout’s spree had something to do with Burke. He’d dedicated the video of Beth Welky’s murder to him. But even though Cindy was signing books in Pasadena that same night I certainly couldn’t prove the connection. And now Cindy was going to continue her book tour in Phoenix.
I knew no one in the Phoenix PD.
With a shock, I became aware of the time. It was past six, and Joe and Julie were going to be home by eight tonight. I had to eat fast and drive home. Lorraine set my jerked beef and rice in front of me, same for Claire, plus a salad for Yuki, who said, “A watermelon margarita, please, Lorraine.”
Yuki said, “Cindy, did you know Burke has a new lawyer working on an appeal of his sentence?”
“On what grounds?” Cindy said. “He confessed. He gave me all the proof anyone could need to convict him many times over. He wanted people to know his score because he’s an egomaniac. And because of his confession, heonlygot six consecutive life sentences. He’s done.”
Yuki said, “That’s all I know.”
Claire said, “In my professional opinion, Evan Burke has surpassed all categories of criminally insane. He needs a new category.”
Cindy agreed. “A class of his own. Call it ‘All Burked Up.’”
There was laughter, booze, yummy food, sounds of applause from the front room as the limbo competition ended. I checked my phone. Seven fifteen.
“Cin, when’s your flight tomorrow morning?”
“Ten twenty-two.”
“Stop by my place at eight thirty,” I said. “I’ll drive us to the airport. Please don’t fight me, Cin. I’m going with you to Phoenix.”
CHAPTER 55
I WAS IN bed with Joe when Julie climbed up over the foot of the bed, crawled northward, and wedged herself between us. She fell straight to sleep on top of the blankets. My head was on Joe’s shoulder. His left arm was around me and we held hands, speaking softly so as not to wake our little girl. Martha was snoring on the rug beside the bed, the four of us filling the available sleeping space in our blue-painted bedroom, which for me was the center of the universe.
Joe was telling me about his visit to his childhood home.
He said, “It was crazy. Like a cross betweenLeave It to BeaverandAnimal House,” he said. “And Mom. She says, ‘Seventy-five is the new ninety.’”
“She meant seventy-five is the new fifty?”
Joe laughed. “Nope. She never sat down. She vacuumed every morning, did laundry every other day, and cooked every night. Our first night there, the whole table was lined with my brothers. So, she made four kinds of pasta and sides, all different sauces … and everyone was tossing cracked jokes and bread.
“Mom said, ‘Are you kids ever going to grow up?’ ‘Noooooo,’ from the whole pack and it just kept going.”
I laughed thinking about that and said, “But tell me about Julie. I’m trying to picture her at that table.”
“She sat on a big pile of cushions between me and Mom. Her head swiveled from me to Mom to Petie, to Aldo, to George, back to me, and then down the table to Greg and Paul, and then straight ahead to Dad’s picture over the sideboard. I think she was trying to process how we all looked almost alike.”
Joe laughed again and I smiled into his shoulder. Julie adjusted her position, spooning against me. I tucked my arm around her and kissed the top of her head.
“It was good for her to get all those uncle horsie rides, play ‘Go Fish,’ and just be with her Grandma.”
“I need some of that horsing around and time with your family, myself.”
“You sure do. Next time, you’re coming.”
I said, “I ditched Dr. Greene this morning. Didn’t remember. Didn’t even call him.”
“I believe that’s called unconscious resistance.”
“Like I don’t want to face something? Well, that would be true.” I told Joe that my week had been like his week only upside down and inside out and on speed. That for my peace of mind and Cindy’s safety I was going to Phoenix with her in the morning. “I’ll be home tomorrow night.”
