After the excavation, Dana came to see me. Her parents had enrolled her in a new school for the fall, and she’d already started practicing with their swim team. She said she loved being in the water now. Over the past month or so, I’d noticed she had built some bulk in her shoulders. I tried to push away the memory of her heaving in my car, her soggy clothes fogging up the windshield while we drove in silence.
I said, “You look strong.”
She rolled her eyes. “Thanks,” she said. She sat down on my couch and took some papers out of her backpack. They looked like files from my boxes, but I couldn’t be sure.
“How are you feeling?” she asked me. I eyed her. It was an uncharacteristic question. “About the case, I mean? Do you feel ready?”
“I hope so,” I said. “But there is a lot I don’t remember.” It pained me to say this out loud. I sensed Dana knew.
“I can look through what you’ve got again,” she said. “If you want.”
I shook my head. “I’ve got it,” I told her, and I squeezed her knee. She allowed this. “How are things? At home?”
Dana shrugged. “Dad is—” She paused. “He’s frustrated.” I nodded. They were still giving us the runaround at the crime lab. They said they were doing everything they could to process our samples expediently. Pete had asked Charlie Makon to write a piece for us, but he said he was busy with a bigger story. He’d said it more sensitively, of course, but that’s what he meant. There was always a bigger story. Dr. P said the only way our samples might jump the line would be if there was some public pressure. We had never been capable, it seemed, of drumming that up for Dee.
“The whole thing is taking longer than we thought,” I said.
“It’s not just that,” Dana said. “I don’t know if I should tell you this. But I think he’s losing hope.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t think he thinks it’s Aunt Dee anymore.”
“Why do you say that? Did he tell you that?”
She shook her head. “I can just tell.”
I didn’t agree with this assessment, but I didn’t want to argue. “I’ll talk to him,” I offered.
She shrugged. “Okay. Are you sure you don’t want me to read through the case again? I’ve been going through all the transcripts you’ve got. I might be able to piece a few more things together for you.”
Maybe I gave in because of fatigue. Maybe I gave in because I loved her and I wanted her to love me back. Did I believe she would be able to see something I couldn’t? I don’t know. I think above all else, I wanted, even if temporarily, to let go. I pushed a stained stack of legal pads toward her, and I was rewarded with a kiss on the cheek.