She stared at it, oblivious to my appearance. I didn’t speak, even though I wanted to ask why she was showing up so late. Did she want to scare the crap out of me? But I left her alone to absorb the face on the paper.
While I stood there and grew colder, Abby raised her free hand and slowly, almost gently traced the outline of the man’s face. It looked like she was trying to get a reading from it, absorb some psychic emanations. Finally, she put the sketch facedown on the table and leaned back against the couch cushions.
“Is that him?” she asked.
“It might be.”
“Ryan called me on my cell phone. He told me about the sketch being released. He said he didn’t know if we’d be talking.”
“He came by.”
“Did you tell him I’m moving out?”
I gestured toward the boxes. “He’s a detective. I think he figured it out on his own.” I entered the room and sat on the opposite end of the couch from her.
“I must have woken you up,” she said. “You said Caitlin’s name on the stairs. You used to do that all the time, back then. Do you remember?”
“I do.”
“I used to think I didn’t care as much as you because I didn’t dream about Caitlin or mutter her name in my sleep. I thought I should have been doing that too.”
“They’re just dreams. They’re not a measure of your love for her.”
“That’s nice of you to say.” She smiled a little. “You were right about something. I have . . . blamed you for Caitlin’s disappearance at times. I guess it was just easier than blaming some stranger, some unknown entity. I’m working on these things with Chris. We’re trying to move on from all the things in the past and trying to get to a more positive place. Emotionally.”
“How neat and tidy.”
“Ryan told me he has doubts about the sketch and about the witness. He said if it was up to him he wouldn’t go forward with it. I told him to go ahead and do whatever you wanted to do. I think this is important for you, Tom. Important for your process of moving on. You need to know that everything that could be done has been done.”
“And you don’t need that?”
“We’re in different places in many ways,” she said. “It’s strange, though. When Ryan called and told me about the sketch, I wanted to see it. Right away I did. I told him I didn’t care to, but I really did. That’s why I’m here tonight. I told myself I was getting more stuff.”
“This late? It’s after ten.”
“Yeah.” She laughed a little. “I knew Ryan gave you a copy, and I wanted to see it. I wanted to see that face.”
“I understand.”
“You know what I was thinking about earlier today?” she asked. “That trip we took to New England when Caitlin was little.”
“What about it?”
“What a great time we had. How beautiful the scenery was. How easy it was to just be together, the three of us. I remember how you wanted to baptize Caitlin in Walden Pond. She was just three, but you took her down to the edge of the pond and splashed water on her head like you were in a church.” She smiled a little. “I thought you were crazy, of course. But I also thought it was endearing. I could tell how much you loved her. And how much you loved the idea of baptizing her in that pond.”
“As I recall, you liked the idea too. You took a picture of it.”
“That’s right.” Her mood seemed to have shifted a little. Her voice sounded a little colder, a little more distant. “I did like the idea back then. But now when I look back on it, I see the whole thing differently. I see a couple and the husband wants to baptize his daughter in a pond and the wife wants her baptized in a church.”
“She did get baptized in a church, because you wanted her to.”
Abby didn’t respond. She leaned forward and picked up the sketch of the suspect. She handed it to me, practically stuffing it into my hands, crumpling it a little.
“But I don’t want to see it anymore. Just keep it away from me if I’m around.”
I straightened the paper, smoothed out the crumples.
“I know you know some things, Tom. I could tell by the way Ryan talked to me on the phone that there were things he was keeping from me. I guess they’re the details of what happened in that strip club, what that woman saw.” She swallowed. “I don’t want to know those things, Tom. Ever. Those are just things you’re going to have to endure alone. I can’t—”
“I get it,” I said. “In fact, it’s not really anything new, is it? Me enduring these things alone.”
She let out a long sigh. “We know, Tom. You’re the saddest.” She stood up. “I was going to stay here tonight, but I think I’ll just take some of these things back to the church.”
I stood up, too. “Do you mind keeping it down while you do? I feel pretty tired.”
I went back up the stairs, sketch in hand, and didn’t wait for her to reply.
Chapter Twelve