"I came to see you last night," he said, a lump in his throat, "but you were already asleep."
The ball beneath the blankets was perfectly still, save for her breathing. He continued, "Your books were scattered on the floor, so I picked them up and put them on the shelf. That's when I noticed the little marks on the inside of the closet door. Little lines, all about a half inch apart. The first one was about two feet off the ground, the next one a little higher, up and up and up. Each one had a date beside it. Your mother's handwriting.
"I just stood there and stared. It shocked me. Seeing how you had grown, all the time that had passed. It was literally the writing on the wall. Your mother had been there for you every inch of the way. The first step, the first word, the first day of school. All the big days in your little life, and the not so big days. Day in and day out, your mommy was there."
He glanced toward the closet, his gaze unfocused. "And all I could think was . . . where the heck was I? I missed it. . I've missed all of it."
His eyes welled, the voice cracked. "And when I woke up this morning, I felt even worse. I realized that Monday was the first time I'd ever picked you up from school. Yesterday with your bloody tooth was the first weekday morning we've ever spent together, just the two of us. I don't understand how that happened, how time gets away. I just wish it . Didn't take your mother's disappearance to make your father wake up."
He laid his hand on the covers gently, so as not to wake her. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I know it doesn't count when you're sleeping. But I truly am sorry. And I couldn't wait to tell you that."
He was motionless in the rocking chair. It was hard to say where the rush of emotion was coming from. But it was coming, unstoppable. It was as if the whole horrendous week were racing to a head. The fears about Beth. The rejection from Morgan. The sparring with Carla and snakes at the law firm. He was a smart guy. He could handle the law firm. Only with things that really mattered was he utterly powerless.
Slowly, he noticed movement beneath the covers. He didn't want to wake her, but he felt the urge to give her a hug. He waited for her to come around, but the movement stopped.
"Morgan?" he said softly.
He heard a click that sounded mechanical, followed by muffled music. He gently tugged the blanket, peeling away the top layer, exposing the back of Morgan's head. A black wire was tangled in her hair. It ran to her ear. She was wearing headphones, listening to music. She had turned it up so loud even Gus could hear it three feet away.
The sight crushed him. She had been awake throughout. She had heard everything. He waited a few moments, hoping her eyes would open. They didn't. The garbled music just kept coming from the headphones. Without uttering a word, her response was loud and clear.
She had nothing to say to him.
Slowly, sadly, he rose from the rocking chair and walked out the door.
Andie left the Federal Building around three-thirty, her first opportunity for a lunch break. Victoria hadn't asked for one, but Andie was preparing a summary of the common behavioral indicators exhibited in all four murders. She wasn't so presumptuous as to take a stab at the actual criminal profile, though she was quietly hoping that Victoria might suggest it.
Isaac Underwood caught her on her way out the door. Seems the lunch schedule for the assistant special agent in charge was also on a three-hour delay. He hustled down the granite steps till his gait was even with hers.
"Mind if I join you?"
"Actually, I was headed over to the market. Good deals toward the end of the day."
"Mind if I walk with you?"
"I was going to take the bus."
"Not a good place to talk business. Come on, the walk will do you good."
As they covered the long five blocks up First Avenue to Pike Place Market, Andie filled him in on the latest developments, including the rendezvous with Martha Goldstein. A light north breeze was in their face, but gloves, overcoats and a very brisk pace kept off the chill.