‘Hello, dearest.’
They do their ritual, which has gained more poignance over the last two years: Simon stands and holds up his hands, palms open, and Kristin does the same on her side of the bars. Hands aligned, saying nothing and everything, communing with their eyes alone, energy sparking between them like they’re sharing lightning.
Simon puts a hand to his own cheek, and it’s like Kristin can feel it. A hand to his chest, and it’s like he can sense her heart thumping there. He is dressed in his blue jumpsuit, a color that has always looked so well on him. Kristin only wishes he would eat a little more; he doesn’t appear to have regained any of the weight he lost in St Elizabeths, and his white hair seems stiff and dry.
She wills energy and care through her palms in his direction. Kristin is very aware that the bars are no barrier, that air ispermeable; it flows between them freely, carrying Simon’s love for her and hers for him. If they were just allowed to stretch out their arms, they would be touching right now, in this moment.
With this knowledge, it takes Kristin a few breaths to regain her composure. ‘I have the most amazing thing – a picture of Sudbury. Would you like to see it? And you must show me what you’re making.’
‘Certainly.’ Simon sits back at his desk chair, waves a hand at the papers. ‘It’s a transcription of a poem, with some decorations along the side.’
Kristin can’t stop smiling. ‘That sounds lovely.’
‘I’m thinking I might send it to Emma once it’s complete. I only have her college address, of course, but perhaps she will be back there soon. Do you think it would cheer her?’
‘It might,’ Kristin acknowledges. ‘She could certainly do with some cheer, she’s been having a terrible time lately. Poor Emma.’
‘Poor Emma.’ Simon’s blue eyes are shining. ‘Is she with you?’
‘Not today,’ Kristin says proudly. ‘I came all on my own. Well, except for the FBI escort fellow, but he’s waiting outside in the car. Do you want to see my Sudbury picture?’
‘In a moment, dearest. Does the bureau want more information?’
‘Oh, you know them.’ Kristin rolls her eyes. ‘They always wantsomething. Actually, this time it would be useful if we could give them more. Things are moving very fast in Pittsburgh. Emma met the killer! His name is Peter.’
‘Of course it is.’ Simon smiles, wolfish.
‘But before they could talk more, the SWAT team arrived. He ran off and took another girl. Now everyone is up in arms.’
‘I imagine so.’ Simon inclines his head gracefully, touches a finger to his bottom lip. Her brother is graceful in all his movements. ‘What should we give them this time, do you think?’
‘Well, there are any number of options …’ Kristin considers. ‘I think we’re looking for a very lonely young man, don’t you?’
Simon smiles. ‘I don’t imagine you would kidnap young ladies and squeeze all the life out of them if you weren’t lonely. It would be a lot of trouble to go to if you were simply doing it out of spite.’
Kristin laughs. Simon always understands things so well. ‘Can you imagine? But I really think this fellow has his heart set on Emma, which is why his pattern changed after he saw her in person. It would have made him angry, too, don’t you think? There she was, and she didn’t fall into his arms – it’s so awkward when you’re fixated on someone and they don’t even seem to know you’re alive!’
‘You’ve had that sad experience,’ Simon says, kissing his fingertips and casting the kiss her way. ‘And if this new rebound girl—’
‘Linda.’
‘The rebound girl, yes – if she was taken hurriedly, in the aftermath of meeting Emma, then she’s bound to be unsatisfactory, isn’t she? He will finish things with her quickly, I think.’
‘That would make sense,’ Kristin agrees. ‘But do you believe there’s a chance we can find her, before he loses his temper completely?’
Simon tucks his arm against himself and holds his chin with his other hand. ‘Well, it would be very tricky … Has the FBI considered looking into vital records in Pittsburgh? Perhaps this fellowhas had a loss recently that’s made it harder for him to endure being alone?’
‘That’s whatIsaid!’ Kristin exclaims. She’s almost vibrating with excitement. ‘But I don’t think they’ve checked at all. There would be lots of people in Pittsburgh who’ve had a loss, though. I suppose we could narrow it by the age range of those left to deal with the estate? Would there be anything else to search for, do you think?’
‘Well, if Emma saw him, then surely the FBI have a composite by now.’ Simon shoos the rest away with a gesture. ‘But let’s not waste any more time talking about extraneous things – show me your picture, dearest, you know I’d love to see it.’
‘Oh yes, please.’ Kristin claps her hands in front of her face and smiles.
She fishes the folded magazine pages out of her little handbag. Then she sits down on the concrete, skirts tucked over her knees, and peels the paper apart carefully.
‘Here it is – look.’ She smooths the creases against her thigh, holds one page up. In the foreground, a woman reclines against a post-and-rail fence, showing off her Laura Ashley dress to perfection, but Kristin is not interested in that aspect at all. ‘Do you see? There’s the edge of the building, and I’m just sure it’s the grist mill.’
Simon, too, is now sitting on the floor cross-legged. ‘You know, I think you’re right.’
