The Replacement Child - By Christine Barber Page 0,79

said she thought having sex with him would be too much like studying. Like he would make you take a quiz after it.” Lacey giggled.

“Did she ever tell you what the man looked like?” Lacey didn’t answer. He said, “You must have played Twenty Questions or something. If I were you, I’d want to know all about him.”

Her father started yelling, “Lacey, we’ve gotta go,” from downstairs before she could answer Gil. She grabbed her gym bag and said, “Tae kwon do,” as she ran out of the room. She stopped short at the doorway. “Sandra’s right. You do look like Gregory Peck.” He heard her banging down the steps before he could ask her how Sandra could have known what he looked like.

Lucy tapped her knee against the filing cabinet next to her desk as she edited a story about water rates. She was using the delete key a lot; the reporter was in the habit of using the word that as often as possible. She was having a hard time paying attention to the story. The newsroom, always as noisy as a shopping mall on the day after Thanksgiving, was distracting. The photo editor, who was leading an elementary-school tour, kept glaring at the copy desk, where three of the editors were involved in a conversation about group sex.

She answered her phone as if she were on autopilot.

“Hi, Lucy.” She recognized the voice but pretended that she didn’t. She started tapping her fingers on her desk.

“Who is this?”

“It’s Detective Montoya. You called me?”

She flipped open a folder on her desk and took out an official OMI report. “Yeah. I didn’t know if you had seen the toxicology report on Melissa Baca.” She was using it as an excuse. She wanted to talk to him, to somehow figure out a way to tell him who the confidential sources were. But it was impossible. She couldn’t reveal the names. That would break a thousand journalistic rules. And she could end up in court.

“No, I hadn’t. What are the results?” Gil asked.

She read from the report, “‘Subject shows no questionable or illegal substances in the bloodstream.’”

“She had nothing in her system?”

“Nope. Not a drop of anything. I’ll fax you the report.”

“Great. Thanks.”

Lucy had thought carefully about what she was going to say next. “I also wanted to let you know about the sources who leaked it to the newspaper that Melissa Baca did drugs….”

Gil started to interrupt, but she stopped him. “I can’t tell you their names, of course, but I did want to let you know that those sources, who we believed were reliable at the time, are now suspect.”

“Is the information the sources gave you suspect or are they personally suspect?” God, he was smart, Lucy thought.

“I would say the sources are in a position to know, but their motives are suspect.”

Gil asked slowly, “Why are you telling me this?”

She knew how it must seem to him. To him, there was no reason for her to have brought it up. There was no code that said she had to admit it when the newspaper screwed up, or, more correctly, when she screwed up. But she had to do something. She couldn’t tell him the names, but maybe she could get him thinking. She had chosen her words carefully, memorizing them. She’d used the word suspect on purpose, knowing that Ron Baca might be considered a suspect. Maybe Gil would think about her word choice. Wonder about it.

“I just wanted you to think about it, Gil,” she said.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” He hesitated for a minute before he said, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine. Why do you ask?”

“You’re not as upbeat as usual. You haven’t tried to make fun of me at all.”

She smiled and said in her Scarlett O’Hara voice, “Oh, Gil, you do care. You just make my heart go a pitter-pat.”

He laughed and said, “That’s better,” then hung up.

Lucy smiled to herself. She had gotten him to laugh. Again. She was getting good at this. And he was getting good at making her feel better. Her good mood ended as soon as she saw Tommy Martinez walk in the door, reminding her of her failure.

She still didn’t get why Officers Ron Baca and Manny Cordova had leaked the information to the newspaper. The only person who made sense was Lieutenant Pollack—he always leaked info. He was easy to figure out—it was all about glory.

Gil sat in his car in front of the elementary school, trying to catch a