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“What about your necklace?”
Her hand crept up to her neck. “I dont—I left it . . . ”
“You left it at Talia Montroses house. It was found next to her body. ”
“No. I was with Race. We came into the house, and his mother—she was lying on the . . . ”
A tear made its way down her cheek. She brushed it away like it was coming from somewhere else—like an insect or rain.
“Times up,” Olsen said.
“Im going back to San Francisco,” Chadwick told Mallory. “Tell me where to find Race. ”
“So you can turn him in?”
“So I can talk to him. ”
Mallory moistened her lips, and Chadwick got the uncomfortable feeling she was deciding whether or not to lie.
“Mr. Chadwick,” Olsen said, her fingers covering the watch.
“His grandmothers,” Mallory said. “She lives in downtown Oakland, off 14th. ”
“The police have already checked there. ”
“Yeah. But thats where hed go. Thats the only place he could go. ”
Mallorys eyes were intense green, just like her fathers. “Make sure hes okay, Chadwick. He didnt do anything. ”
Chadwick promised nothing, but he got the uncomfortable feeling hed made an irretrievable bargain—one that cuffed him to the table more firmly than Mallorys plastic wrist restraint.
He looked at the hillside, where the deer had gone back to grazing. He wondered if the grass tasted any different on Thanksgiving.
“Ill do what I can,” Chadwick told her. “If you concentrate on the program. ”
“I hate the program. ”
“Start small. ” He remembered the little girl who used to steal white meat as soon as it was carved, then go running, giggling wildly, through the house as her father pretended to chase her. “You like turkey. Eat some. ”
Mallory looked at the plate of food, now cold. She picked up a half-moon of turkey, bit off a piece. She started to put the rest down, then changed her mind and took another bite.
Olsen said, “Ill cut your restraint. When youre done, well take you back to the Black Level barracks. ”
As Mallory ate, Chadwick motioned to Olsen. She followed him as far as the sliding glass doors.
“Shes hiding something,” he said.
Olsen crossed her arms, the shoulder bandage crinkling under her jacket. The skin around her eyes tightened. “The girls whole life, people have betrayed her—Katherine, you, her parents. Now shes wondering if Race has lied to her, too. Of course shes hiding something. ”
“You dont approve of me talking to her. ”
“Your priorities are wrong. Youre more interested in torturing yourself about your daughter than helping Mallory. ”
He felt anger building in his stomach, but mostly because he was afraid she was right.
“Youre making progress with her,” he said. “Im impressed. ”
“You know why? I told her Im not leaving, no matter what. She cant push me away. I learned that from you. ”
She looked nothing like the young woman who had been so afraid at the Rockridge café. There was determination in her eyes, absolute conviction that she was going to help this kid. Chadwick remembered why he had chosen her as a partner in the first place—she had a good heart. Heart wasnt something you could fake. It wasnt something you could train for. And it wasnt something she had learned from him.
“Watch out for her,” he said.
“She stabbed me. Of course Ill watch out. ”
“No. I mean, keep her safe. ”
“Youre worried about somebody coming after her? Is that what youre talking about?”
“I dont know. Its just a feeling. ”
She looked back at Mallory, but seemed to be looking through her—straight into the past.
“Ill stick by her,” she promised. “Thats my job. ”
Chadwick knew she didnt mean it as an accusation, but he remembered her words the day shed quit—that his job was a form of perpetually running away. He felt the same wistful resentment hed felt on the plane, when the flight attendant had assumed they were father and daughter. “You identify with her. ”
“Yes. ”
“I remind you of someone, too, dont I? Not a good memory. Thats really why you couldnt work with me. ”
She said nothing.
“Can I ask who it was?”
“You could,” she said, “except for two things. ”
“What?”
“I told you your priorities are screwed up. I cant very well admit that maybe mine are, too. ”
“Whats the other reason?”
She raised her eyebrow, as if that should be obvious. She tapped her wristwatch. “Your time is up. ”
She walked back to the picnic table, where Mallory Zedman was eating a cold Thanksgiving dinner in the fading afternoon light.
12
On Monday, Chadwick and Kindra Jones took a flight to Boston. They picked up a thirteen-year-old whod been expelled from his middle school for dealing Ecstasy and flew him to the Green Mesa facility in North Carolina. An easy job. The kid knew it was either Dr. Hunter or Juvenile Hall.
Jones had dressed in another corduroy and flannel montage, her freshly braided cornrows glistening with styler. She spent the plane trip arguing with the kid about whether Lauryn Hill or Dr. Dre was the bigger musical genius. Chadwick, who had no opinion, read two chapters of a Theodore Roosevelt biography.