Stephen White - Warning Signs

Lucy shook her head. "Please," she said. "You're being diplomatic. Difficult? That's an understatement if I ever heard one. Susan Peterson is a very unpleasant human being. On her best days, she's a bitch."

I forced a small smile. "At least the problem of adoring her never quite materialized."

Lucy didn't crack a smile. "Right," she said bitterly. "At least there was that."

This was the point where Lucy sat all the way back on the sofa, crossed her legs, folded her arms, and told me that the whole story was going to be printed in the next morning's Daily Camera .

A good-sized chunkof an hour later Lucy seemed to have run out of words. It was time for me to head home. I told her so.

She nodded.

I said, "One more thing before I go. Lauren and Cozy were trying to get in touch with you tonight. Did they reach you?"

"I got a message from each of them. I wasn't in any mood to call them back. I'll talk to them in the morning. They'll have a lot of questions about the Daily Camera article anyway."

I nodded. If I hadn't been so tired, I would have been thinking more clearly, and I think I would have left things alone at that point. I didn't.

"The reason they were calling? Lauren told me when I went to pick her up after you left my office. The police found some laundry, Lucy, in the Peterson home. Some unwashed laundry, including a sheet-a bedsheet-with a stain on it. The lab has identified the stain as being dried vaginal secretions. They're working under the suspicion that when the DNA analysis finally comes back, they're going to discover that the vaginal secretions are yours."

For some reason I found myself contemplating when I'd last used the phrase "vaginal secretions" in a sentence. I decided that it hadn't been recently.

Her eyes widened. "Oh boy," she said. The words almost disappeared in a rapid inhale.

I waited a moment and stated the obvious. "You're not totally surprised, are you, Lucy?"

She was looking off to the side, into the dark room. "What am I supposed to say? That I can't believe it? That there's no way it's true? Okay, I'll say it: I can't believe it. There's no way it's true."

I'm supposed to be good at reading people and I wasn't sure whether or not she even intended for me to believe her.

She grabbed a pillow from the sofa, hugged it to her chest, and began rocking back and forth from the waist, slowly. "Alan, I'm being careful with you. You're not my attorney and you're not my therapist. There're certain lines I can't cross with you. Do you understand?"

"I understand. Maybe I should have just kept my mouth shut about the sheets, Lucy. I thought you'd want to know what the police had found. But this could have waited till tomorrow. I'm sorry I brought it up. I should have left it to Lauren and Cozy. I apologize."

"Don't. I appreciate it, Alan. I appreciate all you've done. Coming over here tonight was kind."

"I'll tell Lauren I was here, Lucy."

"I know. It makes no difference. By this time tomorrow I won't have many secrets left. You know," she added, "I told you I was going to make the rest of the phone calls to the Ramps that are listed in the phone book. I did, reached three more. Two of them I'm not sure I can rule out, so I'm going to go track them down tomorrow in person. With all that's happened tonight… I know I'm going to feel like getting out of Boulder. Maybe I'll get lucky and find the kid."

I knew that everything Lucy was suggesting was true. Whatever scrutiny she had received from the media up until then was only a warm-up to the firestorm she could expect after the news of her relationship to Susan Peterson hit the wires in the morning. And, regardless of the press coverage, one of us did have to continue our efforts to try to find Ramp.

"You'll go in the morning?"

She nodded. "Yeah. One of them lives all the way out near Agate."

"Where's Agate?"

"Out east on I-70, just before you get to Limon."

I blurted, "Limon is where Ramp and Paul played around with the explosives."

She cocked her head. "You didn't tell me that."

"I thought I did."

"Well, you didn't."

"My patient told me that Paul went out to some ranch near Limon and he and Ramp blew up a car or something."

"You didn't tell me any of this." The suffix "you idiot" was understood by both of us.

"I'm sorry."

"There's a listing out near Agate for a man named Herbert Ramp. Herbert's dead, but his widow, Ella, answered the phone. When I asked about a son or grandson, she kind of hung up on me."

"So it may be him?"

"You say the two boys played around with bombs out there? Damn right it may be him. I'm definitely going to go talk to her tomorrow."

"Maybe I should do it instead, Lucy. She may be wary of a cop showing up at her door."

"But a shrink from Boulder won't raise her suspicions at all?"

The tendons in the back of my neck felt like rebar. "I'm not sure what's best, which one of us should meet her. Let me think about it overnight, okay? We'll talk in the morning?"

"Yeah. Call me around nine; I think I'm going to try to sleep in a little bit. Use my cell; I'm not going to be answering my phone."

I stood to leave and opened my arms to give Lucy a hug. First, she dropped the pillow, then she leaned into the embrace with a hunger I didn't expect. When she finally released me, I turned toward the door. My hand on the knob, I stopped and asked, "Lucy, were you having an affair with Royal?"

The silence that followed was eerie. For the first few seconds, I suspected that she wasn't going to respond, and I wasn't surprised. I was already questioning my judgment in asking the question. Finally, I turned my head to look at her to examine the impact of my question.

The cuckoo clock chirped twice.

Lucy had spun away from me. Although I couldn't be sure from the reflection she made in the glass doors, I thought she was crying.

Our eyes met in the black glass. She said, "I wish it was that simple, Alan. I wish it was that simple."

O utside, the snowwasn't sticking to the streets, but the sidewalks were wet. The tree buds and flowers looked as though they'd been frosted.

T he alarm clock cracked me awake at six-thirty. Lauren was already up with Grace. Before I climbed in the shower, I wasted a minute trying to decide how many hours of sleep I'd had. Before I reached a number that felt correct, I concluded that the answer was simply "not enough."

After a quick shower and shave I joined my family in the kitchen. I was most of the way through a condensed rendition of the previous night's events for Lauren's benefit when my pager went off. Moments later, I was back in the master bedroom closet trying to simultaneously get dressed and maintain a conversation with Naomi Bigg.

She wasted no time. "Can I see you today? Any time at all. I'll leave work. Please."

"Just a second," I said while I zipped up my trousers and began to thread a belt around my waist. "I have to go get my calendar." I moved from the closet to the bedroom and retrieved my schedule from beside the bed. I was still undecided about trying to run out to Limon or Agate to see Ella Ramp. I didn't know where I could stick an emergency appointment.

She said, "Please, please. What we've been talking about with the kids? It's come to a head, I think. What you've been-what I've been… you know. Anyway, this morning, I found a… I found something that's convinced me that I need to…" Her voice faded away. "Please," she repeated.

Almost impulsively, I said, "Four-thirty this afternoon. I'm afraid that's all I have, Naomi."

"Four-thirty? Is that right? Okay, okay."