alive, and heck, even Jane was still healthy and beautiful and somewhere happy. But that wasn't it.
I liked being with Lucy. I liked the way it felt. I liked being with her the way you like being with someone you're falling in love with. There was no need to explain further.
Muse drove. Her car was small and cramped. I was not much of a car guy and I had no idea what kind of car it was, but it reeked of cigarette smoke. She must have caught the look on my face because she said, "My mother is a chain smoker."
"Uh-huh." "She lives with me. It's just temporary. Until she finds Husband Five. In the meantime I tell her not to smoke in my car." "And she ignores you."
"No, no, I think my telling her that makes her smoke more. Same with my apartment. I come home from work, I open my door, I feel like I'm swallowing ashes."
I wished that she'd drive faster.
"Will you be okay for court tomorrow?" she asked.
"I think so, yeah."
"Judge Pierce wanted to meet with counsel in his chambers."
"Any idea why?"
"Nope."
"What time?"
"Nine a.m. sharp."
"I'll be there."
"You want me to pick you up?"
"I do."
"Can I get a company car then?"
"We don't work for a company. We work for the county."
"How about a county car?"
"Maybe."
"Cool." She drove some more. "I'm sorry about your sister."
I said nothing. I was still having a hard time reacting to that. Maybe I needed to hear that the ID was confirmed. Or maybe I had already done twenty years of mourning and didn't have that much left. Or maybe, most likely, I was putting my emotions on the back burner.
Two more people were dead now.
Whatever happened twenty years ago in those woods... maybe the local kids were right, the ones who said that a monster ate them or that the boogeyman took them away. Whatever had killed Margot Green and Doug Billingham, and in all likelihood Camille Copeland, was still alive, still breathing, still taking lives. Maybe it had slept for twenty years. Maybe it had gone somewhere new or moved to other woods in other states. But that monster was back now-and I'd be damned if I was going to let it get away again.
The faculty housing at Reston University was depressing. The buildings were dated brick and shoved together. The lighting was bad, but I think that might have been a good thing.
"You mind staying in the car?" I said.
"I have to run a quick errand," Muse said. "I'll be right back."
I headed up the walk. The lights were out, but I could hear music. I recognized the song. "Somebody" by Bonnie McKee. Depressing as hell-the "somebody" being this perfect love she knows is out there but will never find-but that was Lucy. She adored the heartbreakers. I knocked on the door. There was no answer. I rang the bell, knocked some more. Still nothing.
"Luce!"
Nothing.
"Luce!"
I knocked some more. Whatever the doctor had given me was wearing off. I could feel the stitches in my side. It felt exactly like it was-as though my very movements were ripping my skin apart. "Luce!"
I tried the doorknob. Locked. There were two windows. I tried to peer in. Too dark. I tried to open them. Both locked. "Come on, I know you're in there." I heard a car behind me. It was Muse. She pulled to a stop and got out.
"Here," she said.
"What is it?"
"Master key. I got it from campus security."
Muse.
She tossed it to me and headed back to the car. I put the key in the lock, knocked one more time, turned it. The door opened. I stepped in and closed the door behind me.
"Don't turn on the light."
It was Lucy.
"Leave me alone, Cope, okay?"
The iPod moved on to the next song. Alejandro Escovedo musically asked about what kind of love destroys a mother and sends her crashing through the tangled trees.
"You should do one of those K-tel collections," I said.
"What?"
"You know, like they used to advertise on TV. Time Life presents The Most Depressing Songs of All Time" I heard her snort a laugh. My eyes were adjusting. I could see her sitting on the couch now. I moved closer.
"Don't," she said.
But I kept walking. I sat next to her. There was a bottle of vodka in her hand. It was half empty. I looked around her apartment. There was nothing personal, nothing new, nothing bright or happy. "Ira," she said. "I'm sorry."
"The cops said he killed Gil."
"What do you think?"
"I