Double Take

Sherlock’s daughter and her husband. I’m here to speak at a law enforcement conference. I’ll admit it—seeing you nearly drove me to my knees. Talk about an unlikely coincidence, but there you have it. Now it’s over.
    “You’ve been very patient with me, Charlotte. Thank you. I have to leave now. I have to go home. Come, I’ll walk you to your car. Where are you parked?”
    Before he left her beside her silver Lexus on Level One of the same parking garage, she said, “You asked me why I invited you to lunch.”
    He waited.
    “I’m not a young girl, Dix, and the truth is I’m drawn to you. Even though I’m married”—she shrugged—”I’m drawn to you. Thomas is very kind, but—” Always a but, Dix thought, as if that were somehow a valid excuse.
    When he didn’t say anything, she said, “Will I ever see you again, Dix?”
    He thought of all the coincidences, of the two bracelets, and wondered: Why hadn’t her husband had something engraved on the hack of the clasp if it was a wedding present? Andthen he wondered, Was it a new clasp? That wouldn’t be difficult, simply change out a clasp on a bracelet.
    Something settled in him, it was a decision made, and he felt calm, in control again. He smiled down at her. “Never say never.”

CHAPTER 16
    SAN FRANCISCO
    Early Sunday morning

    Julia looked down at her boy, his skin so pale it was nearly translucent. He’d gone easily, simply faded away as she’d held his small hand, and that was a blessing. But he didn’t look peaceful, he looked empty and gray.
    She watched Dr. Bryer’s hand disengage the monitor, the soft flatline hum now silent. Time passed, a lifetime, a moment. He squeezed her arm, trying to comfort her, but didn’t. He wanted her to say good-bye and walk out of this sterile cold room and leave Linc.
    “He’s not here, Julia,” Dr. Bryer said. “He’s at peace. Come with me now.”
    Come where?
    She saw herself shooting baskets with him down at Skyler Park, saw him doing his favorite hair-raising maneuver in the half-pipe — his back foot smacking the tail of his skateboard against the ground while his front foot pulled the board up high in the air, oh God, too high, then he would pivot, nearly stopping her heart even as his friends shouted “Real tight, Linc, sweet.” How very odd, she thought, staring down at him, Linc had never hurt himself riding his skateboard. Yet a skateboard had killed him.
    She saw his small intense face as he sketched her and their rental house, waiting until high tide so he could draw the ocean waves nearly kissing the house pilings. She felt his arms around her neck, squeezing until she squeaked, a longtime game between them, not so comfortable anymore because he was stronger every month.
    Julia stared at his slack mouth — no more wet kisses on her cheek, welcoming her home. He had his father’s smart mouth, always with an answer, but even his father was dead, gone three months now.
    Linc was gone too. She had to accept it. But not yet, not yet. She picked up his limp hand as she stood beside the obscenely efficient hospital bed. At least there were no more tubes attached to him. They dangled from quiet machines.
    She was more alone than she’d ever been in her life. Please wake up, Linc, please, but he didn’t.
    He would have turned seven in two weeks.
    “Mrs. Taylor, come with me now. It’s time.”
    “Thank you, Dr. Bryer, but I would like to stay here with Linc a while longer.” She nodded to the older doctor, Scott Lyland, who’d known her all her life. There were tears in his pale eyes. It nearly broke her.
    Time passed, a sluggish cold parade of minutes, before she heard his deep hypnotic voice, August Ransom’s voice, say next to her ear:

    “I can tell you what Lincoln is thinking and feeling, Julia. He misses you, but he’s happy, never doubt that. He’s with his grandfather. You know how much he loved Paw-Paw. And yes, there’s his father. Ben loved Linc, Julia, don’t doubt that. I can help you talk with Lincoln, Julia, let me do that.”

    Then suddenly that compelling smooth voice wasn’t talking anymore, but she heard something, not his voice, but — she heard something move, whispery, vague with distance, as elusive as those long-ago feelings that still wouldn’t settle. It wasn’t close yet, but it was coming.
    She heard soft creaks in the oak floor in the corridor, coming closer.
    What corridor?

    Julia jerked awake, her breath hitching, disoriented.