Mary, Mary

grabbed them both before they could separate and squirm away. They exploded into screams of laughter, forgetting, for an instant, that they had outgrown this kind of horseplay. I rolled them both around on the bed, going for all the ticklish spots I knew from past tickle fests.
    “You’re going to get all wrinkly!” Jannie yelled at me. “Dadd-eee! Stop!”
    “That’s okay,” I said. “I’ll have to change anyway . . . when I spill something on myself!”
    I chased them all the way down to the kitchen; then we pitched in to help Nana with the parts that she would let us. Adding a leaf to the dining table. Putting out the good china and new candlesticks.
    Nana was showing off a little, maybe a lot. Fine by me; I’ve got no problem eating her finest. Never have.
    After dinner, which was pretty amazing—two herb-roasted chickens with oven fries, asparagus, mesclun salad, and coconut cake—Kayla and I got out of there. We took the Porsche, and I drove out to the Tidal Basin and then up to the Lincoln Memorial. We parked, then strolled the length of the Reflecting Pool. It’s a beautiful, tranquil spot at night. For some reason, not too many tourists make it there after sunset.
    “Everything was perfect,” she said as we approached the Washington Monument. “Back at your house.”
    I laughed. “A little too perfect for my taste. Didn’t you think they were trying too hard?”
    It was Kayla’s turn to laugh. “What can I say? They like me.”
    “Three dates in a week. Had to give them ideas.”
    Kayla smiled. “Gave me some ideas. Want to hear?”
    “Like what? Give me an example, a for-instance.”
    “My house isn’t far.”
    “You’re a doctor. Must know a lot about human anatomy.”
    “And you’re a psychologist, so you know the human psyche, right?”
    “Sounds like a lot of fun.”
    And it was.
    But then the Job got in the way again.

Chapter 103
    “I’LL BE OUT THERE TOMORROW. That’s the best I can do. I’ll book a flight to L.A. right now.”
    I couldn’t believe the words were coming out of my mouth, even as they did.
    I had been on the phone with Fred Van Allsburg for less than a couple of minutes, and my response was pretty much automatic, almost as if I’d been programmed to answer in a certain way. What was this,
The Manchurian Candidate
? What part was I playing? Good guy? Bad guy? Somewhere in between?
    I was definitely eager to meet with Mary Wagner again, drawn by curiosity, almost as much as by obligation. The LAPD hadn’t been able to get her to talk to them, apparently not for days. So they wanted me to come back to California to consult. And I needed to do it—something still bothered me about the murder case, even if Mary was as guilty as she appeared to be.
    Of course, I wanted the trip to be as short as possible. In fact, I left everything packed except my toothbrush when I got to the hotel in L.A. It probably helped me feel as though the trip was more temporary.
    Anyway, my interview with Mary Wagner was scheduled for ten o’clock the following morning. I thought about calling Jamilla, but decided against it, and right then I knew that it was completely over between us. A sad thought, but a true one, and I was sure that we both knew it. Whose fault was it? I didn’t know. Was it useful or important to try to place blame?
Probably not,
thought Dr. Cross.
    I spent the night going over the past week’s reports and transcripts, which Van Allsburg had messengered over to me. According to everything I read, the three children—Brendan, Ashley, and Adam—seemed to be the only thing on Mary’s mind.
    It made my direction pretty clear. If the children were all that Mary could think about, that’s where we’d begin tomorrow morning.

Chapter 104
    AT 8:45 IN THE MORNING, I found myself in a different but identical-looking room to the one where I had last interviewed Mary Wagner.
    The guard escorted her in exactly on time—almost to the second. I could see right away that several days of interrogation had taken a toll.
    She wouldn’t look at me, and sat stoically while the officer cuffed her to the table.
    He then took a position inside the room, next to the door. Not my first choice, but I didn’t argue it. Maybe if there was a second interview, I’d try to loosen things up.
    “Good morning, Mary.”
    “Hello.”
    Her voice was neutral, a minimal show of following the rules. Still no eye contact though. I wondered if she had served time before. And if she