Leann Sweeney - Shoot from the Lip

“B-but they don’t know about her,” Gloria Lopez said quickly.

I’d obviously pressed her panic button. “You never told them?”

“I foolishly thought I could keep this secret from them forever. Another mistake.”

“They might like to meet her, too,” I said.

“But if I tell them about Emma, that would mean they’d discover their father wasn’t quite so heroic when it came to his family. He betrayed us. I forgave him before he died, but I don’t want my sons to know what their father did. Can you understand that?”

“Not really. They’re adults. And they’ll probably find out anyway, now that Xavier Lopez’s name and picture will be on national TV.”

“You’re right, of course,” she said.

“You’ll tell them, then?”

“I have to, don’t I? Now please, if you would, tell me all about this television program and what’s happened to Emma these last ten years. I’m really not as self-serving as you probably think.”

Later that afternoon, I decided to check on Emma, see if she needed anything. When I arrived at her suite, I was recruited to take Shannon to dance class and pick up Luke from football practice. I was glad to help.

Thirty minutes later I returned to the hotel with a dirty adolescent who hardly fit in the front seat of my car-but since Luke had me laughing nonstop with his corny jokes, the grime wasn’t an issue.

Their new temporary home was the Renault Hotel near the George Brown Convention Center. They had a huge suite with two bedrooms, a small kitchen and a roomy living-dining area. There were wood floors and Oriental rugs, not to mention a wet bar. Very nice, as Venture had promised.

Luke told me on the drive to the Renault that Shannon and Emma were staying in one bedroom, and he had a big room all to himself. He even had his own shower-a first. So after we arrived, Luke kissed Emma hello, grabbed four bananas and about ten granola bars from the kitchenette and retreated to his new sanctuary. Emma told me there was a television with an Xbox in there as well, and we knew we wouldn’t be seeing him anytime soon.

Emma smiled from her spot on the reclining sofa after he shut his door. “Thanks for doing taxi duty. I wasn’t even sure Shannon would make her class.”

“One of the moms who saw us arrive at the dance studio said she’d bring her back here and drive her next week, if necessary. Nice lady.” I sat in the armchair alongside Emma, a cushy chair I could really sink into. “How are you feeling?”

“Not as sore as this morning, and my shoulder only yells at me when I wiggle my hand.” Her left arm was still restrained against her body by a wide elastic contraption that also crisscrossed over her good shoulder.

“Ouch,” I said with a sympathetic grimace. “You taking something for the pain?”

“It doesn’t hurt that much, Abby. I feel like I had a bad fall, that’s all.”

“If you say so. And no one from Venture has come by?”

“They’ve called three times. Paul Kravitz phoned. He said he’d be here at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Can you come?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. We caught a break, pardon the pun, with the accident. I’ve had time to get a jump start on the investigation. DeShay Peters, my boyfriend’s partner, is already helping me with your case.”

“What kind of help?” she asked.

“What should have been done by someone when your mother abandoned you. We hope to find your mother.”

Emma paled, her skin taking on that greenish color I remembered from yesterday. “Did we talk about you finding her? I was so stressed yesterday I don’t remember. I don’t want her back in our lives, Abby.”

“You may have no choice, Emma. The police can’t forget they found those bones under your house. They have to pursue this and that means looking into her disappearance so they can ask her a few important questions.”

“If you find her, you’ll turn her over to the police?”

“Absolutely. If you don’t want me to follow up on this, I can leave it to HPD. But I promise you, Crime Time will be searching for her, too-probably already is. She has to be held accountable, not only for abandoning you and your brothers and sister, but for what she may have done to that baby.” Held accountable even if she’s incapacitated or dead, I thought.

Emma rubbed her upper left arm, head bowed. “You think you can find her faster than the police or the television investigators?”

“I don’t know about Paul Kravitz’s team, and I’ll need HPD’s help, but I’ll only be working your case, while the police will be dividing their time between who knows how many homicides? Police and PIs have to work together sometimes-not that they always like the arrangement.”

“I-I’d rather you find her before anyone else does,” Emma said.

“Okay. That’s settled.” For a moment I debated whether to mention my conversation with Gloria Wilks or my knowledge of Emma’s half brothers. But she was already having a hard time with the information I’d just given her. Best to wait. Instead I said, “Anything else I can get you before we move on? You hungry? Need ice for your shoulder?”

“There is something, actually. I could use Kate’s help telling Luke and Shannon about the… bones, because I don’t even know where to begin.”

“You haven’t told them?” I tried not to sound shocked. The headline in the city section of the Chronicle this morning had been, “Reality Check Gets a Reality Check.”

“They were awfully upset about my accident. Once they knew I’d be fine, they felt free to be excited about staying in such a nice place. I didn’t want to ruin that for them.”

“But someone else will tell them, Emma. Maybe they’ve heard already and are keeping quiet to protect your feelings.” I checked my watch. Five o’clock. Kate might be between sessions right now. “Let me call Kate, see if she can drop by here on her way home.”

I used my cell to call her office. Sure enough, she was available. “Hi, there,” I said. “Need a favor.”

“I will do anything but pick up corn chips for your Frito pie dinner.”

She had her sense of humor back only three days after the split from Terry. Good progress. “After your last client, could you pay Emma, Shannon and Luke a visit? Emma needs to tell them about what happened yesterday and could use some support.”

Kate didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Um, sure. I had dinner plans but I’ll cancel them.”

“Dinner plans? Is it business?” The only person Kate ever went out to dinner with was Terry, me or, on occasion, another therapist.

“No, not business, but Emma is more important. Tell her I’ll be at the hotel at seven o’clock, if that works.”

“Seven?” I said to Emma, who nodded. “Seven it is, Kate. Guess I’ll see you tonight-unless you change your plans and have a late-night dinner?” I was probing.

She knew it and laughed. “If I’ll be late, I’ll check in with you first, Mommy.”

She hung up and I folded my phone closed, still wondering what she was up to.

“Kate shouldn’t have changed her plans,” Emma said. “Now I feel guilty.”

“Kate does what she thinks is right. I’ve learned not to argue with her, and so should you. Now, back to business. Exactly how did your mother support you when she was still around?” From what Gloria Wilks had told me during our long conversation, she couldn’t afford to send much back in the nineties before she remarried.

“Mom cleaned houses. She advertised by posting flyers on telephone poles or trees and always got paid in cash, which I realized later was so she didn’t have to report the income. I don’t know how many times I helped her make signs and put them up. She hardly knew how to write.”