I instinctively tightened my arms about her, holding her close.

“For a long time afterward, I wished I had died.”

“No,” I said.

“Not now. Not anymore. But then…I couldn’t deny I’d had an abortion. There was no hiding that. My mother stormed into the hospital room, demanding to know who had done it. Gotten me pregnant. She never believed me. ‘No, of course it wasn’t your father. Now, tell us the truth.’ Over and over again. A few weeks ago, when she called, she asked me again. ‘You can tell me after all these years,’ she said. ‘It was Dad.’ ‘That old story again,’ she replied. Still not believing me.”

“I’m so sorry, Joanne.”

“Yeah, well…six months later, he tried again, like nothing had happened.”

“He raped you after…” I exploded.

“No. He put his hand up my dress, and I started screaming hysterically. I couldn’t have stopped myself if I’d had to. Of course, people came into the room. He just sadly shook his head, saying he didn’t know why I screamed. He’d been sitting reading.”

We lay still, holding each other.

“Joanne…I…thank you.”

“For what?” she replied, puzzled.

“For…telling me. And listening to me. It’s…consoling to know that…it happened to other people. Maybe I didn’t deserve it.”

“Goddamn it! Of course you didn’t. Don’t ever, ever think that,” she said fiercely.

“If someone I admire as much as you, someone as strong as you are…” I trailed off.

“It doesn’t matter, does it? Alex and maybe Cordelia and Danny, I’m not sure, got away, because the people who cared for them were decent. You and I got caught because we didn’t have decent people around us. A fucking crap shoot.”

“And if it’s not our fault, it’s not Alex’s fault that she got away.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I shouldn’t be angry at her because she didn’t have the shit beat out of her as a kid. I should be glad that someone got away.”

“Do you love her?” I asked.

“Yes,” Joanne replied. “Yes, I do. She’s put up with a lot of crap from me. I don’t know why she sticks around.”

“I do.”

“Did she really say she loves me?”

“Yes, she did. Go back to Alex.”

“You that anxious to get rid of me? Not that I blame you.”

“Hell, if it was just me…you could stay for a long time. But…”

“But?”

“But you and Alex have been together for a while…when I’ve seen the two of you together, you seem at ease and comfortable with each other. My edges aren’t just rough, they’re sharp. And…” I fumbled. She loves you. After everything, she still loves you. I didn’t know if I could be so loyal. “And besides, Cordelia would never forgive me if I stole you from Alex.”

“What does Cordelia’s forgiveness matter?” Joanne asked incisively.

“Oh, not much,” I hedged. Just the world.

“Uh-huh,” Joanne answered. Then in a serious tone, “Honesty’s not fun, is it? You’re not someone to get involved with lightly. I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m sorry for the ways I’ve hurt you.”

“Yeah. Now, no more honesty. I can’t stomach any more.” Then I added, “What a novelty.”

“What?”

“You’re the first woman who’s ever left me before I left her,” I replied.

“Some accomplishment.”

“How about some sleep?”

“I guess it is rather late to head back contritely to Alex.”

“Yep. Good night, Joanne.” I turned out the light.

“Night, Mick,” she said tiredly. “Mick?”

“Uh?”

“I meant it. You are special. And, in some crazy way, I love you.”

“I love you, too, Joanne.”

When I woke, bright sunlight was streaming into the room. And a not very bright cat was clawing at the door and meowing dissonantly.

I jumped up to silence Hepplewhite and let Joanne sleep, but she stirred and sat up. Then she got up, hugged me as she went by, and stumbled to the bathroom. I heard the shower as I dumped some food in Hepplewhite’s direction. I sliced an apple and peeled an orange to provide something resembling breakfast.

I sat on my bed, nibbling a few slices of apple, waiting for Joanne to get out of the shower, trying to think of some clever and worldly way to say good-bye.

“Breakfast,” I said, pointing to the fruit as she entered the bedroom.

“Thanks,” she replied, taking an orange slice. “I used your toothbrush.”

“You’re allowed.”

She started to pick up her clothes.

“Joanne,” I said, suddenly not caring to be clever and worldly. “Do you think Alex would mind…?”

She turned to look at me. Fear of refusal made me falter.

“If?” Joanne prompted.

“If we…made love one more time?”

“No, I don’t think so. And even if she did, I still would.”

“Thank you.”

We made love very gently and slowly, a fitting farewell.

Then she got up and got dressed. One last lingering kiss and she was gone.

I took a shower, not because I needed to, but because it felt good. Then I put on some Bach and got dressed.

I knew I should feel noble and virtuous for bravely sending Joanne back to Alex, but I didn’t. I felt adrift, at loose ends. What had happened was what had to happen. I was okay. Sort of. Perhaps…bereft. But other than that, okay. Right.

I wondered what was happening with Cordelia. I debated getting the paper to read all about it, but I wasn’t sure I wanted the local news version of her arrest. I was hoping that Danny would call and at least plug a few more of the basic holes. It wasn’t like her to not call.

There is nothing more aggravating than waiting for the phone to ring. I finally gave up and went out and got a paper. Front page stuff. I was right, I didn’t want to read the news version of it.

I finally decided, enough was enough. If Danny wasn’t going to call me, I would call her. I dialed her number.

“Hello?” Cordelia answered.

“Uh, hi, this is Micky,” I said, too nonplused to hang up. “How are you?”

“Okay.”

“Where are Danny and Elly?”

“They went out. Groceries and such, I believe. I just got up a little while ago.”

“Oh.”

“Alex called here last night looking for Joanne.”

“Oh,” I said again. “She called me, too.”

“Joanne wasn’t with you?”

“Well, yeah, at some point,” I admitted.

“Oh,” she replied. “Do you want to leave a message for Danny?” she asked shortly.

I almost said tell Elly the usual time and the usual place, but I didn’t think Cordelia would appreciate the humor.

“No, that’s okay. I was calling to find out how you were.”

“I’m fine.”

“So I gather. I did call Alex about feeding your cat,” I said, trying to put a good foot forward. Unfortunately it ended up in my mouth.

“I was just going to call her. Does she know Joanne’s okay yet?” Cordelia replied frostily.

“By this point, I should think so.”

“I’ll call her, anyway.”

“Don’t. I mean, Joanne’s there. She’s probably busy.”

“How do you know?” Then immediately, “Never mind. It’s none of my business.”

“Sure it is. You know all the other details. Why not this one, too,” I said sarcastically. “Joanne has regained her sanity and dumped me in favor of Alex.”

“Oh,” she said. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Fine?”

“I’m fine. You’re fine. Let’s leave it at that.”

“If you want. It was decent of you to end the affair.”

“How kind of you to notice,” I remarked caustically.

“I didn’t mean that. I meant…Alex loves Joanne and…”

“And Joanne loves Alex, so you think Micky Knight should keep her fucking hands to herself,” I burst out.

“Don’t tell me what I think,” she retorted angrily.

Count to ten, I caught myself. This woman’s just been arrested for murder.

“I’m sorry,” I said after a pause. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. I was…”

“Don’t tell me about your sex life,” she cut me off.

What was her problem? I thought. “I didn’t have sex last night, goddamn it,” I shot back.

“Of course not,” she replied coolly. “Good-bye, Micky.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, regretting my outburst.

“I know. Good-bye.”

“I am.”

There was a long pause before she replied. “I know. I’m just…not at my best. I need to end this conversation.”

“Okay. I…I’ll talk to you…sometime.”

“Yes, you will. Good-bye, Micky.”

“Good-bye, Cordelia.”

I hung up, feeling more alone than I had when Joanne left. At least Hepplewhite liked me. Or liked being fed.

It was going to be a long, hot weekend.

Chapter 14

Monday I went to the clinic, but Cordelia wasn’t there. Part of her bail arrangement was agreeing not to see patients. Bernie was busy canceling and rescheduling. Bowen and Goldstein would cover as best they could.

Better air-conditioning than mine, I told myself when I wondered what the hell I was doing here. I roamed about for a while, upstairs, downstairs. I avoided the back door and sight of the overgrown lot, until I realized I was avoiding it and made myself walk out to it to at least within a few feet (okay, yards) of the tangled and now trampled edge.

“Smelling the roses again, Miss Knight?” The ever-vigilant O’Connor.

“Wishing for a horrible head cold,” I retorted.

“I have some bad news for you. From your point of view.”

“Then don’t tell me.”

“Autopsy report on Faye Zimmer. Fifteen years old.”

“I know.”

“Sergeant Ranson?”