Lien-hua pulled over to the curb, flipped off the headlights, and eased the car to a stop, leaving the keys in the ignition just in case we needed to get out of there fast. She had changed into a tailored green silk blouse. I told myself I shouldn’t be taking note of things like that, but I couldn’t help noticing that she was looking good.
Vanessa Mueller lived in a quaint two-story house with black trim and a wide porch. The house looked like a pale yellow dream in the moonlight. We sat staring at it for a few minutes. The light in the living room was on, and I could see Vanessa sitting on the couch watching television. Thankfully her home was an older design and had only a front door, making it easier to stake out-no rear exit to cover.
I heard the keys jangle as Lien-hua bumped them reaching for her coffee. She cleared her throat slightly. “So, you have a daughter.”
I was momentarily confused. I couldn’t remember telling her that I had a daughter… oh yeah, Ralph had asked why I wasn’t picking her up at the airport. “Stepdaughter, actually. Yeah. She’s seventeen. Her name is Tessa.”
“What’s she like?”
“Well, she’s smart, street-smart. A survivor. She’s tough.”
“Tough? Anything else?”
“Um… she likes to wear black.”
“Well, what does she like to do?”
I shifted in my seat. “I don’t know. Listen to music. Hang out with her friends.” Where are you going with this?
Lien-hua didn’t say anything for a few moments. Finally she added, “So you’re not too close then?”
I took in a long, slow breath. Man, Pat, she can read you like a book. “No. Not really.”
A short silence and then, “How did she handle her mother’s death?”
I began to fidget with my pen. “OK, I guess. We don’t talk about it much. So do you think Grolin’s going to show up?”
“Do you talk about it at all?”
I was beginning to regret volunteering for this stakeout. “Christie’s death was hard on both of us. Truth is, Tessa and I have never been all that close, and after her mom died, it just got worse-”
Suddenly I felt Lien-hua’s hand press gently against my left arm. It unnerved me and somehow comforted me, brought me back to the moment.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to… We don’t have to talk about-”
“No. It’s OK,” I said, but I wasn’t sure that it was.
She pulled her hand back, laid it on her thigh.
I took a slow breath. “One in every eight women in North America is diagnosed with breast cancer. Did you know that?”
“No. I didn’t.”
“Neither did I. A year ago.” I could feel the familiar tightening in my chest, the desperate helpless feeling you get when you look back over your shoulder at something painful from your past; something that haunts you but is also a part of you. You try to run from it, but it’s always right there, breathing down your neck. It’s not true what they say. Time doesn’t heal all wounds. Sometimes it just throws salt on them and laughs as you squirm.
“What about Tessa’s father?”
I shook my head. “She never met him. Christie was in college when she got pregnant. He took off when she told him the news. Never saw the guy again.”
I heard Lien-hua mumble a few words about him that I was surprised she knew.
“Yeah. My sentiments exactly.” I sipped at my coffee. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Ever married?”
“Just to my job.”
I tried to think of something fitting to say to that but couldn’t. I sipped the really bad coffee and almost had to spit it out. It tasted like hazelnut-flavored motor oil. I set it back down and decided to change the subject. “Work many stakeouts before?”
“Not so many.”
“How many?”
“Counting tonight?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Well. That would make one.”
I laughed a little. It felt nice.
She turned to face me. “You?”
“Lots in my early years when I was a detective in Milwaukee. I guess some people get used to them. I never really did. I’m too antsy. I hate sitting still. I always need to be doing something, solving something. I like stakeouts about as much as I like briefings.”
“But yet you volunteered for tonight.”
“Yes. I did.”
I looked out the window at Vanessa’s house. No change.
A car drove past us, and we watched its taillights shrink into the night. As they disappeared Lien-hua said, “I don’t think he’ll come.”
“Who?”
“Grolin. I don’t think he’s going to show.”
“Oh,” I said. “Yeah I think you might be right.” I peered at the quiet house. “So, what about you, Lien-hua. You know all about me, what’s your story?” It was an innocent question.
“Well, there’s not much to tell, I guess.” She tipped her coffee back, took a long, slow sip. “I graduated from Washington State University with a master’s degree in criminal science. Then I worked for a while as an officer in DC.”
Outside the windshield, the wind fluttered a handful of autumn leaves out of a tree above us and placed them gently onto the hood of the car.
“After a couple years, I applied at Quantico at the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime, did a two-year apprenticeship and, ta-da. Here I am.”
“Here you are,” I said. I was looking at her profile now in the dim light. The light from a nearby street lamp was slipping through the windshield and landing on her face, illuminating her chin, her lips, the gentle slope of her cheek.
She set down her cup and looked in my direction. I didn’t look away.
“It’s pretty pathetic, isn’t it?” she said.
No, not at all. Pretty stunning, in fact.
I caught myself. “What? Your story?”
“No, having to drink this coffee.”
“Oh,” I said. “Yeah. Painfully bad.” I was still looking at her, but I managed to notice the wind nudge the leaves off the hood and drop them onto the road.
We both looked away from each other.
“So you climb, then?” she said.
“A little. You?”
“No, never had the chance. Mostly for me it’s kickboxing.”
“Kickboxing?”
“Yes.”
“Huh. I knew it was something like that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, I’m not sure exactly how to say this… but…” -Oh, go ahead, just say it -“your physique, presence, the way you move. At first I figured you for either a dancer or a gymnast.”
“Physique?” She was grinning out of the side of her mouth.
Oh boy. “I meant it as a compliment.”
“You’re not supposed to notice things like that.”
I smiled. “I’m paid to notice everything.” It seemed suggestive when I heard myself say it, but I didn’t intend it that way.
She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “So I’ve heard.” She located the cup resting beside her leg, lifted it, found it empty, set it back down. “You climb much?”
“Used to. I haven’t been to the crags in, well, a while.” I hesitated, because the last time I’d been climbing was with Christie. It didn’t feel right saying her name just then.
“Hmm,” she said noncommittally. “Miss it?”
“Yeah, I do. I miss her-it-I mean, yes, I do miss it. Yes.” Only too late did I realize what I’d said, too late to take it back. Thankfully, for reasons I could only guess, Lien-hua decided to ignore it. She started telling me about some of the kickboxing tournaments she’d competed in. I cracked my window open, and a rush of frigid air poured into the car. We’d been sitting here awhile. The windows had started to steam up. I hadn’t realized how cold it was getting outside. In the car it seemed warm.
“Maybe we could go climbing sometime,” I offered. “When all this is done.”
She hesitated and then answered, “Maybe. When all this is done.”
“Unless there’s someone else you…?” It was a way of asking if she had a boyfriend. She had to know it was. She had to read the subtext. She was too good at reading people not to.
She took a breath but didn’t answer. Hesitated. “There used to be,” she said at last.
A moment of quiet. There was more to the story. But I didn’t pursue it. I stared at the house again. The living room light blinked off.