photographs came. Of my husband."
Vicki checked her watch. Nearly noon in Toronto meant nearly eleven in Winnipeg. Hot damn. Truth in advertising; I've found a courier who can tell time.
"It is my husband, Ms. Nelson. It's him." She sounded close to tears.
"Then I'll take the information to the police this afternoon. They'll pick him up and then they'll get in contact with you.”
"But it's the weekend." Her protest was more a whimper than a wail.
"The police work weekends, Mrs. Simmons. Don't worry." Vicki turned up the reassurance in her voice. "And even if they can't actually bring him in until Monday, well, I personally guarantee he's not going anywhere."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure.”
"I need to ask him why, Ms. Nelson; why he did such a horrible thing to us?”
The pain in the other woman's voice tightened Vicki's fingers on the receiver until her knuckles went white. She only just managed to mask her anger with sympathy during the final few moments of the call.
"God-damned, fucking, son of a BITCH!”
Her notepad hit the far wall of the apartment with enough force to shatter the spine and send loose paper fluttering to the floor like a flock of wounded birds.
"Anyone I know?" Celluci asked. As he'd come into the living room barely a meter from the impact point, he supposed he should be thankful she hadn't thrown the coffee mug.
"No." She surged up out of her chair, slamming it back so hard it fell and bounced twice.
"Something to do with your found missing person?" It wasn't that difficult a guess; he knew the bare bones of the case and he'd heard her use the name Simmons during the phone conversation. Also, he knew Vicki and, while she was anything but uncomplicated, her reactions tended to be direct and to the point.
"Lousy bastard!" Her glasses slid to the end of her nose and she jabbed them back up the slope. "Doesn't give a shit about what he put his family through. You should have heard her, Mike. He's destroyed everything she ever believed in. At least when she thought he was dead, she had memories, but now he's fucked those, too. He's hurt her so badly she hasn't even hit anger yet.”
"So you're getting angry for her.”
"Why not?”
He shrugged. "Why not, indeed." Intimately familiar with Vicki's temper he thought he saw something more than just rage at a woman wronged. Lord knew she'd seen enough of that during her years on the force and had never, all right, seldom, reacted with such intensity. "Your mother, did she ever get angry when your father left?”
Vicki came to a dead stop and stared at him. "What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
"Your father walked out on your mother. And you.”
"My father, at least, had the minimal decency not to hide what he was doing.”
"And your mother had to support the two of you. Probably never had time to get angry.”
Her eyes narrowed as she glared across the apartment at him. "What the fuck are you talking about?”
He recognized the danger signs but couldn't let the opportunity pass. Things had been working toward this for a long time and with her anger for Mrs. Simmons leaving her so emotionally open he knew he might never get a better chance. What the hell, if it comes to it, I'm armed. "I'm talking, whether you like it or not, about you and me.”
"You're talking bullshit.”
"I'm talking about how you're so afraid of commitment that you'll barely admit we're anything more than friends. I understand where it's coming from. I understand that because of the way your father left and because of what happened afterward with your mother that you think you need to put tight little parameters on a relationship . . .”
She snorted. "Did the force just send you to another sensitivity seminar?”
He tightened his grip on his own temper and ignored her. ". . .but all that happened over twenty years ago and, Vicki, it has to stop.”
Her lip curled. "Or else?”
"Or else nothing, God damn it. I'm not
Vicki checked her watch. Nearly noon in Toronto meant nearly eleven in Winnipeg. Hot damn. Truth in advertising; I've found a courier who can tell time.
"It is my husband, Ms. Nelson. It's him." She sounded close to tears.
"Then I'll take the information to the police this afternoon. They'll pick him up and then they'll get in contact with you.”
"But it's the weekend." Her protest was more a whimper than a wail.
"The police work weekends, Mrs. Simmons. Don't worry." Vicki turned up the reassurance in her voice. "And even if they can't actually bring him in until Monday, well, I personally guarantee he's not going anywhere."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure.”
"I need to ask him why, Ms. Nelson; why he did such a horrible thing to us?”
The pain in the other woman's voice tightened Vicki's fingers on the receiver until her knuckles went white. She only just managed to mask her anger with sympathy during the final few moments of the call.
"God-damned, fucking, son of a BITCH!”
Her notepad hit the far wall of the apartment with enough force to shatter the spine and send loose paper fluttering to the floor like a flock of wounded birds.
"Anyone I know?" Celluci asked. As he'd come into the living room barely a meter from the impact point, he supposed he should be thankful she hadn't thrown the coffee mug.
"No." She surged up out of her chair, slamming it back so hard it fell and bounced twice.
"Something to do with your found missing person?" It wasn't that difficult a guess; he knew the bare bones of the case and he'd heard her use the name Simmons during the phone conversation. Also, he knew Vicki and, while she was anything but uncomplicated, her reactions tended to be direct and to the point.
"Lousy bastard!" Her glasses slid to the end of her nose and she jabbed them back up the slope. "Doesn't give a shit about what he put his family through. You should have heard her, Mike. He's destroyed everything she ever believed in. At least when she thought he was dead, she had memories, but now he's fucked those, too. He's hurt her so badly she hasn't even hit anger yet.”
"So you're getting angry for her.”
"Why not?”
He shrugged. "Why not, indeed." Intimately familiar with Vicki's temper he thought he saw something more than just rage at a woman wronged. Lord knew she'd seen enough of that during her years on the force and had never, all right, seldom, reacted with such intensity. "Your mother, did she ever get angry when your father left?”
Vicki came to a dead stop and stared at him. "What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
"Your father walked out on your mother. And you.”
"My father, at least, had the minimal decency not to hide what he was doing.”
"And your mother had to support the two of you. Probably never had time to get angry.”
Her eyes narrowed as she glared across the apartment at him. "What the fuck are you talking about?”
He recognized the danger signs but couldn't let the opportunity pass. Things had been working toward this for a long time and with her anger for Mrs. Simmons leaving her so emotionally open he knew he might never get a better chance. What the hell, if it comes to it, I'm armed. "I'm talking, whether you like it or not, about you and me.”
"You're talking bullshit.”
"I'm talking about how you're so afraid of commitment that you'll barely admit we're anything more than friends. I understand where it's coming from. I understand that because of the way your father left and because of what happened afterward with your mother that you think you need to put tight little parameters on a relationship . . .”
She snorted. "Did the force just send you to another sensitivity seminar?”
He tightened his grip on his own temper and ignored her. ". . .but all that happened over twenty years ago and, Vicki, it has to stop.”
Her lip curled. "Or else?”
"Or else nothing, God damn it. I'm not
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