The Blue Hour Read Free

man."
    "Blanket?"
    " Please."
    She lay it over his
legs and feet.
    "Try to relax
now, and picture good things. I'll be in the next room."
    Hess
settled in. He looked down at the blanket. It was kind of like when he was a
boy in his uncle's lodge up in Spirit Lake, Idaho, after the hunt. You were
tired and fed, and the only thing you had to do through the long black night
was read and sleep. The fireplace was so hot you had to move your sleeping bag
to a cot on the far side of the room. Actually, this was nothing like the lodge
at all.
    Now, fifty-something years
later, he could feel the Cisplatin burning its way into his vein as he slid his
free hand through the rubber band and opened the file on his lap.
    Case
#99063375
    Jillson, Lael
    Detectives
Kemp and Rayborn had procured two photographs of Lael Jillson: a snapshot
taken out-of-doors, and a photocopied picture from her wedding. The snapshot
showed her standing on a boulder with her arms crossed, dressed in shorts and
hiking boots and a sleeveless denim blouse. She was smiling. Her blond hair was
pulled back into a ponytail that shone in the sun. On her wedding day that same
blond hair was swept up and detailed with tiny white flowers that looked like
stars. Hess blinked and refocused on her. A slender face, a firm jawline, even
white teeth and dark brown eyes. She was radiant. The picture was black and
white with a sepia overtone. It reminded him of his own mother's wedding
picture, taken in 1928.
    Of Lael Genevieve
Jillson: age 31, 5'8", 130 lbs., blond/brown, Caucasian, married, born
Orange, CA, maiden name Lawrence, distinguishing marks or characteristics—none.
    None, thought Hess.
As if being lovely was not distinguishing. Just another human female chewed up
and spit into the dirt like a piece of gristle.
    Most likely, he
thought. Almost certainly, in spite of the pea-sized spot of hope in Chuck
Brighton's brain.
    Hess
looked up at the mirror behind the counter in front of him. The chemotherapy
room looked like a beauty salon, with four reclining chairs facing the mirror
and the counter littered with jars and bottles. Televisions hung in two
corners. The IV drip trolleys were pushed back against the wall. There were
plastic curtains attached to the ceiling
on runners, but none was in use. Hess was the only customer today.
    In
the mirror a pale man looked at him with steady blue eyes and a face that had
not enjoyed a privileged passage through the years. It was sharp and
unsentimental. The dark gray hair was brushed back like a World War II
general's, with an upright peak in the front. The peak had gone to white years
ago. Now the whole face was outlined in a shimmering line of red. Hess felt
dizzy and he saw the head waver. He sighed and closed his eyes. He told himself
he was too old for this, something men say only when they don't believe it. You have work to do.
    The Laguna Beach woman was
reported missing six days ago, a Tuesday, from a shopping mall in Laguna Hills.
    Case #99075545
    Kane, Janet
    Age
32, 5'6\ 120 lbs., brown/brown, Caucasian, single, born Syracuse, N.Y.,
orthoscopic surgery scar right knee.
    Hess
held up the photocopy of her picture. It was a studio portrait, the kind of
picture you might have commissioned for a sweetheart, or your family.
"Sanderville Studios" was visible in the lower right corner. Janet
Kane was a genuine beauty, too: a good-humored smile, long dark hair with bangs
parted over a high forehead, eyes that looked playful and assured. Her blouse
was black and sleeveless, revealing graceful arms.
    Beauty
in both of them, Hess thought.
    Lael
Jillson, last seen in Neiman-Marcus, 8:10 P.M., according to the register receipt, purchasing pantyhose.
    Janet
Kane, last seen in a suburban mall, at approximately 8:45 P.M., according to a shoe salesman at Macy's, who had watched her walk out.
    And their purses recovered
in remote Cleveland National Forest sites accessible only by Ortega Highway or,
less so, by a network of dirt roads that