Inherit the Dead

his voice. A father getting custody was a big deal; he knew that from experience.
    “Not exactly. We determined together—my husband and I—what was better for Angel. Ours was not one of those acrimonious divorces. Angel’s happiness was all that mattered.” She ran one of her long fingers along the edge of her too-sharp jaw. “You’re not married, are you, Detective?”
    “No.”
    “Divorced?”
    “Yes.”
    “Children?”
    “I have a daughter,” he said, wondering how this had become an interview, one he was on the wrong side of. “She lives with her mother.”
    “Of course she does. Always the way, isn’t it? Well, almost always.” She stopped pacing and sagged into one of the low couches just opposite, as if the conversation was suddenly too much for her.
    Perry wondered if she was acting. Everything about her seemed theatrical.
    “How old was Angel when you and your husband divorced?”
    “Does that matter?”
    “Maybe. I’m not sure yet.”
    “Fourteen. She was such a headstrong girl at the time. Of course she always was, but particularly then. Perhaps the divorce was somewhat to blame: the strain and—”
    “I thought you said the divorce was amicable?”
    “But I did not say it was easy. And teenagers can be difficult.”
    Perry nodded, though he’d give anything to have his teenage daughter around twenty-four/seven, difficult or not.
    “We considered boarding school, and in retrospect I think it would have been a better choice for her.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “Because Norman is far too lenient. He spoils Angel. And he has problems.”
    “Such as?”
    She sighed. “They’re under control now.”
    “I need to know if—”
    “I said they are under control.” The steel was back in her eyes—and her voice.
    “Mrs. Drusilla.” Perry spoke quietly and chose his words carefully. “If I’m going to find your daughter, I need to know everything.”
    “Norman would never do anything to harm Angel. It’s just that—” A short intake of breath. “He drinks. Or did. And when he does—Well, you’ve never seen such a personality change. It’s quite”—she shook her head—“extraordinary.”
    “Is that the reason you two—”
    “Divorced? No. It had nothing to do with that, ” she said, hard. “But he’s stopped drinking. At least I think so, hope so.” Then more quietly, “All I was saying is that if Norman had been tougher, Angel might not have disappeared without a word. He doesn’t lay down any rules.”
    “What about your rules?”
    “I’m afraid I have little say over what Angel does. She doesn’t live here, remember?”
    “But you’re her mother.”
    “I repeat: she does not live here. I cannot be a disciplinarian from a distance, and Angel . . . well, we don’t see each other very often.”
    “When was the last time?”
    “We have not seen each other in . . . ” She looked up at ceiling. “I can’t say for certain but . . . probably close to a year.”
    “A year?”
    “Yes. Give or take a few . . . weeks.”
    “That’s a long time. Did you have a fight?”
    “No. We just . . . don’t get along very well. The distance is good for us.” She sighed. “I’d hoped Angel would grow out of her rebellious phase—all teenage girls have issues with their mothers, don’t they, Detective? Lord knows I gave my poor mother a terrible time. But Angel can’t seem to get past it.”
    “So you did argue.”
    “In the past. But not anymore. It’s hard to argue when you rarely speak.”
    “I see.”
    “No, I don’t think you do, Detective.” She leaned closer, her breathminty with a hint of something medicinal. “Despite our disagreements, I am her mother, and I love her very much. And I believe down deep she loves me, too. One day—soon, I hope—she will come to realize how much I love her.” She sniffed as if she was fighting tears, but her eyes were perfectly clear, her tone clipped. “It’s why I must find her. Why you must find her.” She laid a bony hand on Perry’s. It was cold and dry. “I don’t have much time, and I need to make things right between us, need to . . . ” Her breathing became labored, a wheezing sound, as if there was cotton wadding in her nose and throat.
    “Are you all right?”
    “Y-yes. Or . . . I will be once you find my daughter and bring her back to me.”
    Bring her back? But she was never here.
    She took deep breaths, a hand to her throat. “All I know is that she is gone and no one has heard from