Got Your Number

Elise James on campus today."
    "I know that name, but I can't place her."
    "She went to grad school here, and she joined the Rescue program about a year ago. I thought you might know her."
    Nell sighed. "Unfortunately, the memory is the first thing to go. Is she nice?"
    "Nice and troubled. We were paired up to live together in Biloxi, but I don't think Elise ever had her heart in the work. She suffered some personal problems and a few weeks ago she just took off." No need to go too much into detail, lest Nell start to think she was some kind of lesbian siren.
    "This kind of volunteer work isn't for everyone. And if a person already has problems, the stress can sometimes exacerbate those problems."
    Roxann nodded. "I think she was on something when I saw her today. She was rambling, incoherent."
    Nell broke off a small piece of the flat bread. "What was she rambling about?"
    "Something about a college relationship that had screwed her up."
    "Sounds like whatever she’s on has her screwed up."
    Their food arrived, but Roxann's appetite had vanished, and nature was calling. She excused herself and went to the ladies' room, grateful for the moment alone. She hadn't been alone, not really, since leaving Baton Rouge. And now she had a sick, heavy feeling that returning to South Bend would simply reopen old wounds. Carl had drawn her back, but why on earth would Angora want to come back to a place where she had so many bad memories?
    Roxann stared in a mirror over the sink and let the revelation sink in. Carl . Angora had been drawn back to Carl, too. She had made light of the fact that sleeping with him was on her life list, when she'd probably been in love with him just as much as Roxann. Why hadn't she seen it?
    And Angora had probably been devastated earlier today when he'd recognized Roxann and not her. Roxann winced. No wonder Angora had acted so strangely the rest of the afternoon, and had bid so outrageously for his attention. On the heels of being jilted, her cousin was starved for validation.
    She leaned into the cold porcelain sink and tried to remember the last day her life had had any semblance of normalcy. As is, a mushrooming cloud of doom was dogging her and the people she came into contact with—she didn't even want to think about what can of worms would spring open tomorrow. Plagued with warring thoughts and emotions, Roxann left the restroom before Nell began to think she'd been abandoned. But just outside the restroom was a pay phone, and she was struck with the longing to hear a comforting voice. Or at least a familiar one. Her cell phone was at Nell’s on a charger. Before she could change her mind, she dialed her father's number. He answered on the third ring.
    "Hello."
    His rough-hewn voice scraped over the line, rugged and reassuring. She smiled into the phone. "Dad, it's me."
    "Roxann, honey—are you okay?"
    "I'm fine, Dad. Has anyone else been around asking about me?"
    "No. Where are you?"
    "I'm in South Bend, with Angora, We came up for Homecoming, but we'll be back to Baton Rouge soon."
    He sighed. "Dee has been driving me nuts. Since that cop talked to her, she's sure Angora is in some kind of trouble."
    "Well, she isn't." She chewed on the inside of her cheek. Yet. "Listen, Dad, is there a history of psychological problems in your family?"
    "What kind of fool question is that?"
    "It's important, Dad."
    "Well...my mother's sister died in an asylum."
    Roxann inhaled sharply. "What was wrong with her?"
    "Schizophrenia. When she was twenty-five she pushed another woman out of a tenth-story window."
    Her eyes bugged. "Why haven't you ever told me?"
    "You never asked. Are you seeing that Detective Capistrano?"
    Her eyes bugged wider. "What?"
    "Are you seeing—"
    "No, I'm not seeing him! What makes you think I'm seeing him?"
    "He seemed to know an awful lot about you."
    "Dad, he's a detective."
    "He told me you were working together on a case."
    "Well, we're not."
    "He told me you could be in real trouble with the police."
    "Well, I'm not."
    "He told me about his partner. I think you should help him."
    She closed her eyes. "Dad, I have to go. Keep the doors and windows locked, and don’t talk to Detective Capistrano. I'll call you before I leave South Bend."
    Roxann returned the phone to its cradle, trying to assimilate the bits of the conversation—discounting the absurd line of questioning about the infuriating detective. Schizophrenia was hereditary—was it possible that...no, Angora was a