High Noon

“Mama…All right, let’s both calm down.”
    “I’ll calm down when you get your beat-up self back into bed where you belong.” Marching over, Essie flung back the bedclothes. “Right this minute! I’m not—”
    “Mama, listen to me. My arm will heal, the rest of me will heal on the outside. We know how it is on the inside though, you and me. We know. So you understand when I tell you I’m not going to heal until the person who did this to me is held accountable.”
    “There are other people who can see that he’s held accountable.”
    “I know you feel that way. I know you have to. Understand that I feel this way. That I have to. I can’t live afraid, Mama, I just can’t.”
    “That’s not what I want, that’s not what I’m asking you.”
    “But I am afraid. And I close my eyes and I’m back in that stairwell.”
    “Oh, baby.” Tears swam as Essie hurried over to stroke her daughter’s face.
    “Part of me’s going to stay afraid, and I’m going to keep finding myself trapped in that stairwell, until I do this. Help me with this shirt. Please.”
    Though her eyes were damp, Essie studied Phoebe’s face and saw clearly enough. “I don’t want you to live the way I do. I don’t want you to be afraid.”
    “I know that.”
    Slowly, her eyes on Phoebe’s, Essie buttoned the shirt. “Do you have to go so far the other way?”
    “I guess I do. I’m sorry.”
    “Phoebe.” Gently, Essie eased Phoebe’s arm back into the sling. Then she brushed at Phoebe’s hair with her fingertips. “When you get back, you’re going straight to bed.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “And you’re going to eat all the dinner I bring up to you.”
    “Every bite.” Phoebe kissed Essie’s cheek where the little white scar rode under carefully applied makeup. “Thank you.”
    When Phoebe came back into the parlor with Essie at her side, Liz looked from one to the other. “Ah…your PAA called in sick this morning. I have her home address.”
    “We’ll try her there.”
    “Detective? I don’t care if she does outrank you, you take good care of my baby girl—and see she gets home.”
    “I’ll do that, Mrs. Mac Namara. Thank you for the coffee.” Liz waited until they were outside to open her umbrella, and to speak again. “I don’t care if you do outrank me, I take the lead on this.”
    “No argument. Friendly, flirty and efficient, that’s how I’d describe her. Mid-twenties. I think she likes being around cops—likes the buzz. Thanks,” she added when Liz opened the car door for her. “How bad do I look?” Phoebe asked when Liz got behind the wheel.
    “Not quite bad enough to scare small children.”
    “Let her see me first. My gut says he didn’t tell her he was going to hurt me. Scare me, maybe, or just plead his case.” Despite the rainy day, Phoebe slipped on her sunglasses. “But I don’t think she’d have gone along if she knew he intended to hurt me. She calls in sick the day after. She’s probably scared, guilty, wondering what happened. The way cop shops work, she’s heard a few variations. She sees me first, she’s already going to start cracking.”
    Annie looked sick when she opened the door to her apartment. Against the cotton-candy pink of her pajamas, her face was white and drawn. Her eyes popped wide when she saw Phoebe. Stumbling back, she stuttered out Phoebe’s name.
    “Annie Utz? I’m Detective Alberta. Can we come in?”
    “I—I—”
    “Thanks.” Liz pushed the door all the way open so Phoebe could walk in ahead of her. In the background a couple of soap opera actors argued bitterly over someone named Jasmine.
    “Lieutenant Mac Namara needs to sit down. She’s hurt pretty bad.”
    “I…I have a head cold. I’m probably contagious.”
    “We’ll risk it. You heard about what happened to Lieutenant Mac Namara, didn’t you?”
    “Yes. I mean, I guess I did. I’m so sorry, Lieutenant. You should be home, resting.”
    “Annie…Mind if we turn this off?” Without waiting for permission, Liz picked up the remote and ended the threatening tirade of a shirtless blond hunk. “I’m looking into what happened to the lieutenant. You were the last one to speak to her before she was attacked.”
    “I…I don’t know.”
    “You don’t know that she stopped by your desk on her way out, on her way downstairs?”
    “I mean, yes, sure. You said you were going downstairs for the training session.” When she addressed Phoebe, Annie’s gaze trained