Джонатан Келлерман - Night Moves

“Hungry, Bretty?”

Quiver in her voice. No evidence Brett noticed. He said, “Chelsea had Ben and Jerry’s. I want some.”

“Go for it, honey.”

“Get it myself?”

“That would be nice, darling.”

The boy grunted, flung the freezer door open, located a pint container and a soup spoon, and left.

“My sensitive soul,” said Felice Corvin. “Maybe it’s good to be like that. Maybe his life will be easier.”

“How’s he doing with his dad gone?”

“Lately he seems to be moping but for the most part, he’s okay.”

“Chelsea never reacted.”

“Now you understand.”

“When did she learn Trevor was her father?”

“Do we really need to get into that?”

“We do.”

“It’s a new thing for her, Doctor. I told her the day after you and the lieutenant came to inform us about Chet. I acted quickly because she’s not a... typical girl. Yes, she’s been going to Trevor’s, but for art, a tutor-student thing. I didn’t want to lose control of the situation, have her undergo some sort of breakdown.”

“You’re sure she didn’t already know?”

“I wasn’t sure, so before I had a sit-down with Chelsea, I asked Trevor and he swore to me he’d never said a thing. That was the deal we had. Pacing was up to me.”

“Your eventual goal was formalizing their relationship.”

“After the divorce,” she said. “Not in the sense of adoption or anything legal, just so Chelsea could feel... a part of something. Being with Trevor has been terrific for her. They do art together, he tells her she’s talented.”

“How long has she been going over to his house?”

“Since last fall. And not often. And yes, at night, because we’ve needed to keep it under wraps. For another child, I’d worry about disrupting her school. But school’s never been Chelsea’s thing.”

“Trevor’s been living here for years. Why just recently?”

“My decision after I knew Chet and I would be breaking up. Chelsea’s always been into drawing. I showed some of her work to Trevor and he brightened up like I’ve never seen. So I went to Chelsea and told her Mr. Bitt wanted to see more. She’d go over when Chet was out of town and we could be sure Brett wouldn’t notice. He’s a heavy sleeper, that helped. Trevor’s just the opposite, total insomniac, so he was up late quite a bit.”

“Chet eventually found out.”

“A fluke,” she said. “A few months ago, he had some sort of virus, the guy was never sick, used to talk about germs being terrified of invading the sacred temple that was his body.”

She shook her head. “Anyway, he did catch something, got up in the middle of the night to take a pill, heard the side door close and went to check and saw her. She didn’t knock on Trevor’s door, but she went to the side of Trevor’s house and smoked a cigarette and came back. Maybe she sensed she was being watched, or maybe she just wanted to smoke. And yes, I know it’s a terrible habit and no, I have no idea how she started and yes, I’ve tried to talk to her. You choose your battles.”

Her shoulders slumped.

I said, “Does Trevor smoke?”

“Are you asking if he’s a bad influence? No, Doctor. He used to but he hasn’t for years.”

“So Chet spotted her.”

“And got all worked up and I convinced him it was no big deal, kids do that. I thought I’d calmed him down but turns out when he was home he kept an eye out and he saw her go out again. Did he do the logical thing and tell me? No, he kept it to himself and did nothing. Which shows me he really didn’t care — he never has cared about Chelsea. He just wanted to make trouble so he called you.”

“A manipulation.”

“More like sabotage. I’d thought we’d kept our breakup civil but it got me thinking. Maybe he was setting me up as a bad mom so he could get more money, I really don’t know.”

She’d just offered me plenty of motive for murder, seemed unaware.

I said, “Did Chet ever see Chelsea actually go into Trevor’s house?”

“Thank God, no. It was the smoking he concentrated on. Even he likes a cigar now and then.”

“When did Chelsea start calling Trevor ‘Daddy’?”

“What you just saw was the first time. I was as surprised as you.”

“Trevor didn’t seem surprised.”

“Trevor’s different, Doctor. His reactions are different,” she said. The blanket explanation for Chelsea extended to her father.

I said, “How did he come to live next door?”

“Oh, God,” she said. “I feel like my whole life’s being exposed — what the heck, that was my fault. Everything seems to be.” She used the crumpled towel to dab the corners of her eyes.

“After we moved here, I was at a low ebb. Boring neighborhood, boring job, the marriage thing, I was pretty down. I don’t know what possessed me, but a year or so later, out of the clear blue, I phoned Trevor. Still had his number. Still thought about him. He was happy to hear from me. Told me he’d missed me. That got to me, Doctor. I kind of lost it and blurted out the Chelsea situation. One of those things you do but you really don’t understand.”

“Sure,” I said. “How’d Trevor react?”

“Different from what I expected. He said, ‘Really? That’s great.’ I said, ‘Trev, did you hear me?’ He said, ‘I’m a dad and I never had to change diapers. Sounds like a good deal.’ I was stunned, he thanked me for letting him know, neither of us had more to say so I hung up. I immediately decided I’d just made a huge mistake that could come back to bite me. But it didn’t. I never heard from him. A couple years later, the house next door went up for sale.”

Another poke with the towel. “It was on the market for a long time, ugly pile of bricks, those crazy cactuses. Then one day there was a Sold sign, I see the real estate agent and she tells me who my new neighbor is. I thought I’d have a stroke.”

She used the towel to wipe a clean corner of butcher block. “I kept waiting to see him. Dreading but also...” Shrug. “One day a truck was parked out front but no sign of him. Weeks went on. I used to take a two-mile run an hour after dinner, like clockwork till I hurt my meniscus. One night the kids were doing whatever and Chet was on the road, as usual. I was running back, had slowed for my wind-down, and saw him standing in front of his door. I nearly tripped and fell. My first reaction was anger. What the hell had he done, it felt so intrusive. And why hadn’t he bothered to come over and talk about it? I asked him what the hell he was thinking. He said my call had changed his life. He was tired of San Francisco and hearing from me had helped him put things in perspective.”

“About Chelsea.”

“That’s what I took it to mean and I made it clear he needed to keep his mouth shut. He swore he would. I could tell he was sincere. There’s no duplicity in Trevor, what you see is what you get.”

I said, “How’d he locate the house?”

“He looked up my address on the Internet and used real estate sites to find available properties nearby. When he found one right next door, he took it as a sign. A massive dose of karma, he called it. Seeing him unsettled me but what could I do? I reiterated that he was forbidden from saying anything to Chelsea or anyone else, he’d screw up her life and mine and I’d never forgive him. Again, he swore he wouldn’t.”

I said, “How long has he been ill?”

Her eyes slid to the right, caromed back to me, drifted again. “What do you mean?”

“He moves like a sick man.”

“Does he, Doctor?”

She took a sip of coffee, muttered, “Cold,” and pushed the mug away. “All right, no sense hiding reality. He’s got a situation. No one in his family lives past sixty, it’s a heart thing, they get congestive failure, fade away. Trevor’s fifty-nine and he’s doing okay, considering, but he’s weakening. So he tries to take life easy. Money’s not an issue for him, he’s got plenty. Could’ve lived in a huge estate with an ocean view but he chose here and has enriched Chelsea’s life. How could I not honor that?”