She didn’t, either, not deep down. But to think she had to let go…
“If what you say is true, then I haven’t lost anything, really, have I?” she asked. “I mean, if Allie’s spirit has been talking to me all these years, it’s not like she’s going to suddenly abandon me. Because she’s no worse off today than she was twenty-five years ago. And I don’t need her any less, either.”
“The only thing you’ve lost is the hope of seeing her in the flesh in this lifetime.”
“I really had counted on that,” she said, pulling the box of photos onto her lap, cradling it. “Crazy, huh? I’m a cop. I work cold cases. I know more than most that I had little chance of seeing Allie alive. But I still believed I would. I really thought we were one of those miracle statistics and that that was what she was telling me.”
Sniffling, she studied the baby’s photo.
What happened to you, little one? What do you need me to know?
“How’s your mother?”
“Drinking, but not heavily yet. She’ll be drunk tomorrow.” She’d spoken to Sandy on the way home, telling her that she’d been to the grocery store and would be over first thing in the morning to help with Thanksgiving dinner preparations.
She had a pie to make later that night. Her mother, largely, did the rest.
“I figured, with Allie—”
“Oh, I’m not telling her. At least, not yet,” she
said, putting the pictures back in the box, closing the lid and tucking it into the bottom drawer of her nightstand so that Allie could watch over her at night. And calm the bad dreams. Just like Lucy had always done for Sandy.
“The holidays are always hard enough. It would do her in to have a double whammy. And there’s no reason that she has to know right away. Why take away another week or two of hoping for her? Todd is going to need to interview her at some point regarding the place where we found Allie. I’ll need to take her out there, see if she remembers anything. But not today.
“Wakerby is already out on bail and until they have enough to bring him in on—”
“It’s okay, Luce. I understand. You don’t have to justify anything to me. I’d have made the same decision. Especially with tomorrow being a holiday.”
Lucy stopped at her living-room window and looked over at her mother’s house. The television was on. She could see the screen through the sheers. Marie drew the heavy drapes at night, but she always opened them during the day, insisting that daylight was a balm to Sandy.
She was probably right.
“I’m being selfish,” she announced, watching that window. She wanted to be as devoted as Marie. She’d tried. She just couldn’t cope with Sandy 24/7. “I’m not telling her right now because if I do she’ll have a relapse and I’ll have to cancel my trip to Comfort Cove.”
She wasn’t going to miss Emma’s wedding.
Nor a chance to see Ramsey.
“I think you should come early.”
“I’d love to, but…” she answered automatically, without forethought.
“You’ve had a rough few days. You need some time to grieve, to process, without worrying about your effect on your mother. You shouldn’t be dealing with this all alone. Especially after today.”
After she’d found out that Allie was really dead, he meant. Because she was. She was never going to get to meet the big sister that she’d been loving all of her life. Tears came to her eyes again and, leaving the window, she blinked them away.
“I don’t know if I can get my flight changed.” Spend more than one night with Ramsey? In her weakened state?
She couldn’t think of anything she wanted more.
Or less.
“I’m sure you can for a price. Comfort Cove sprang for the storm-sewer forensic team, which frees up the capital you offered…?.”
His tone held humor. And insistence.
“I’ll call and see what I can do. Lionel told me I could take whatever time I needed.”