I USED MY LANDLINE to call Darcy Gaines before I left for Cambridge. She said that they were still working on the phone. I asked if the phone could still accept a call while they tried to work their magic on it. She said it could, and that if Lisa called back, Darcy would talk to her—not tell her she was a cop, just tell her she was a friend that I’d left my phone with—and try to find out if she was safe, and where she was.
“Or,” I said, “you could just try to keep her talking while you traced the call.”
“You watch too much television,” Darcy said.
Now I was with Susan Silverman. Today she wore a gray cashmere turtleneck sweater, black slacks, and black zippered ankle boots. Her lipstick was plum-colored. It matched her fingernails. Her black hair was gleaming, as always.
“Do you mind if we talk a little about my case today?” I said.
“I always want to talk about what you want to talk about,” she said. She smiled. “It’s in all the handbooks.”
“I just thought you might help bring some clarity to it,” I said. “And structure.”
I tried to catch her up as quickly as I could, about everything that had happened and everything I knew, except the part about staring at Jake Rosen’s butt. By the time I finished I knew I had used up a fair amount of my time.
“And did I mention that I have quickly developed an attachment to Richie’s little boy?” I said.
“It all sounds a little overwhelming,” Susan Silverman said.
I sighed, and loudly. “Tell me about it,” I said.
“But you said you wanted to begin with the missing woman.”
I nodded.
“You know that I’ve had to immerse myself in the world of prostitution before,” I said. “The last time before this was on a case up in Paradise, with young women who were part of a religious cult.”
“It began with one girl,” she said, “and expanded to all of them.”
“I wanted to save them,” I said. “And while I feel a similar motivation this time, my feelings involve a woman I haven’t even met.”
“But you met the woman who was murdered,” Susan Silverman said.
“Whose story was heartbreaking,” I said.
“Aren’t they all?” she said.
“I couldn’t help her,” I said. “Or save her.”
“You couldn’t save her and now are unable to find the woman you were hired to find,” she said.
“I don’t know if I’m more frustrated by my lack of progress or that I took the case in the first place,” I said.
“Tell me more about the missing woman,” she said. “Lisa.”
“Somehow she achieved a position of at least some power in a world where brutal men form their own autocracy,” I said.
“Well put,” she said.
“I have my moments,” I said.
“And what happens if and when you do find her?” Susan Silverman said.
I smiled now.
“Why, save her, of course,” I said.
“On your last big case,” she said, “the damsel in distress wasn’t even a damsel.”
“It was Richie,” I said.
“You had a far easier task distinguishing the good guys from the bad guys,” she said.
“This time I’ve only got bad guys and worse guys,” I said, “until I find Lisa.”
“You mentioned Richie’s son before,” she said. “But how are things between you and Richie?”
I smiled again.
“Wow,” I said.
“That good?”
“No,” I said. “Wow because this was effectively a Richie-free session until now. When have we ever had one of those?”
“Never?” Susan Silverman said.
“Is that a sign of progress,” I said, “or my ability to compartmentalize like a champion?”
“Perhaps a little bit of both,” she said, and said she would see me next week.
DARCY CALLED A couple minutes after I was back at River Street Place. She said she was on her way out the door and would drop my phone on her way home.
“But there’s good news,” she said.
“Tell me.”
“We managed to thread the needle,” she said. “Not quite sure how Sergeant Loomis did it, but she did.”
“You found out where the call came from,” I said.
“Well, Loomis did,” she said.
“Where?” I said.
“Paradise,” she said.
I laughed.
“Something funny about that?” Darcy said.
“I have an old friend up there,” I said.