Joel Goldman - The Dead Man

"And no one should. But life goes on."

I changed the subject. "How did it go with your staff this morning?"

"Dad is a lot better at those things than I am. He was terrific but everyone still cried."

"It may not be as bad as you think," I said. "You were right about Harper. He did sabotage your practice."

"How do you know that?"

"I called him on it and he told me."

"I hope he rots in hell."

"Don't worry. He's got the whole hell on earth thing going for him," I said, explaining that Harper had Alzheimer's and was turning control of his affairs, including the institute, over to Sherry Fritzshall.

"Well," Kate said, "I'm sorry that he's sick but I'm still going to sue his ass."

"You won't have to. Sherry overheard Harper telling me what he'd done to you. She wants to meet with you next week, no lawyers, and work something out. I think she's sincere."

Her jaw clenched and loosened. "I don't know."

"Don't turn your nose up," I said. "Second chances are hard to come by."

"It's not that. With Dad retiring and Alan moving to San Diego, I don't think I can make it work by myself."

"Sure you can. Sherry's not going to write you a blank check but she'll be reasonable. You'll be able to keep your staff together until you can recruit a couple of partners, maybe merge with another group. You can do it."

She didn't respond, paying more attention to the road then necessary even given the deteriorating weather. Then I realized that I'd missed the point.

"It's not that you can't do it," I said. "It's that you can't do it if Brian is going to be seventeen hundred miles away."

She stopped for a red light and turned toward me. "No, I can't. Like you said, kids aren't fungible."

I nodded. "No, they aren't. So, when are you moving?"

She took a deep breath. "Not until the school year ends. I made a couple of phone calls today. I'm flying out there tomorrow and meeting with some people. It's all very preliminary. Dad will finish reviewing the dream videos for you."

"Tell him that won't be necessary. The smart money is on Anthony Corliss. I was about to break into his house to look for evidence when that cop zapped me. The police are looking for him now. We'll see how that pans out."

"I'm glad you're letting the police handle it."

I gripped my armrests, holding myself in place as a new round of aftershocks rumbled through me, making me stutter. "About San Diego. That's the right decision."

She reached across my seat, her hand on my wrist. "It's not a zero sum game, Jack. You can come too. There's nothing keeping you here."

With her gone, she was almost right. "Who will walk Lucy down the aisle?"

"That's what airplanes are for."

We left it at that until she dropped me off, saying she had to go home and pack. Lucy was waiting inside with Roxy and Ruby who jumped me like they had just gotten out of solitary confinement. I sat on the floor, letting the dogs smother me. Ruby planted her front paws on my chest, demanding to know where I'd been while Roxy ducked under her chin, knocking Ruby from her perch as she curled up in my lap, the two of them starting over, jockeying for position, settling between my legs, their front paws draped over my thighs, their chins on my knees.

"It's good to be loved," Lucy said.

"Amen to that."

The weatherman was right. The sleet turned to ice and the ice to snow and there was nothing to be done except to watch it come down. Ice slapped against the windows, encased tree limbs, and carpeted the ground, the perfect undercoat for the snow-fat, wet, lazy flakes tossed on the wind, piling, drifting, and blowing. The storm blanketed the region, branches and power lines snapping north and south of the Missouri River; roads and schools closed east and west of the state line. Local television gave wall-to-wall coverage with live reports from all the places we were warned not to go, headlights streaming in the background proof that some people couldn't take a hint.

I was one of them. Not that I left the house. Lucy and I were sitting on the sofa in the living den. She grinned and stuck the car key in her jean pocket, daring me to try getting it out. It was Quincy Carter's hint that I couldn't take, the weather and Lucy's protective instincts keeping me homebound for the night.

In that moment, she reminded me of Joy, not Wendy, and of a time when going after the key would have been worth the effort. I hadn't thought of Joy like that for quite a while, flashes of our early years welling up when she had shown more spunk and steel than any woman I had ever known, filling me with longing for past lives. I didn't know what triggered those memories, whether it was Joy's phone call or Lucy's mischievous smile or Kate telling me she was leaving, but they blossomed into a fleeting daydream that I was standing in a circular room surrounded by closed doors uncertain what was behind each: happiness or sorrow, the future or the past, the lady or the tiger.

"Hey," Lucy said, waving her hands a few inches from my face. "Anybody home?"

I blinked and laughed. "Just me."

"Well, don't even think about going out in this weather."

"Not a problem. I'm all in and all done."

"For tonight. Tomorrow will be a better day. You know what I think," she said, taking my hand. "I think our timing is good."

"Me too."

Her cell phone rang, her face lighting up at the name on caller ID. She jumped off the sofa, turning her back to me.

"Hey, you," she said, walking toward the kitchen.

"Tell lover boy I said hello."

She gave me the finger over her shoulder and kept walking as my cell phone rang.

"Jack, it's me," Joy said. "Is this a bad time? You were right about the weather."

I leaned into the soft cushions of the sofa, surprised at how glad I was to hear her voice. "No, this is a good time. We're really getting hammered."

"Every flight to Kansas City has been canceled. At this point, I don't know if the airline can even get me on a flight tomorrow. I may not make it back until Friday. I hope you don't mind keeping Roxy," she said, the strain in her voice apparent.

"Don't worry about it. Are you okay?"

She hesitated. "Yeah, it's just that I'd really like to get out of here. I'll tell you about it when I get home. Give the dogs a hug for me," she said and hung up.

I didn't believe her but the right to pry and push was one of the things I gave up in our divorce settlement. Lucy came out of the kitchen, took the stairs two at a time, and was back down a few moments later, wearing a parka with her backpack on her shoulder.

"Don't tell me you're going out in this weather?"

"Simon says it's not that bad and he doesn't live far from here. Besides, you aren't going anywhere."

She opened the front door, a mini-snow flurry whistling inside.

"I'll need the car in the morning."

"Sure, sure," she said, shoving the door closed behind her.

Roxy and Ruby were curled back-to-back on an easy chair. They lifted their heads, stretched, and yawned, jumping to the floor and trotting into the kitchen. I followed them. They ignored me, marching single file out the doggie door.

I made a pot of decaf and sat at the kitchen table. Simon's banker box was on the floor. I pulled his file on Anthony Corliss, poured a cup, and broke my promise to Quincy Carter.

Simon had found newspaper coverage about the girl at the University of Wisconsin. Her name was Kimberly Stevens. The article matched the details Janet Casey and Gary Kaufman had given me. Kimberly had been a sophomore. She volunteered for the dream project to get extra credit in her introductory psychology class. She drowned in Lake Mendota. Her parents sued the university and Corliss. The university settled the case, emphasizing that it was not admitting liability. The family's attorney, Eric Abelson, said the family was satisfied with the outcome of the case, though no amount of money could compensate them for their loss.