“The medical examiner at Bellevue,” Vivian said, not sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry. Of course this came now, when she might not be around to see it through. Of course. “I owe him another favor now, I guess, fat lot of good it’ll do him.”
“But this means…” Florence stared back at the letter. “We weren’t wrong. Someone did care about her. And you think it was…” She swallowed. “Do you think it was our father?”
“Hard to tell without a name,” Vivian said cynically, trying to ignore the ache of longing in her stomach. “You can decide what to do with it, I guess. I might…” She swallowed. “I might not be around to decide.”
Florence had been staring at the letter once more. At that, though, her head snapped up. “Don’t say that,” she insisted, half rising, one hand braced on the table to steady herself, her voice growing shrill. “Of course you will be.”
Vivian reached for her sister’s hand. “My week’s almost gone.”
“No.” Florence’s grip tightened, and Vivian could see the tears spring up into her eyes. “But you said you could… Aren’t there any other suspects?”
“I’m trying,” Vivian said quietly. “I’ll keep trying until they haul me away. But—”
“I won’t accept that,” Florence snapped, shaking her head. “Not when we just found—” She broke off, staring at the letter in her hand, then back at her sister. “And the baby’s coming, you have to be here for that.”
“Flo.” Vivian’s voice cracked. “Don’t do this. Don’t make it harder, please? Let’s just…” She pressed her fingers against her eyes. “Let’s just be here together, okay? That’s all I need right now. Please.”
She could hear Florence take a shuddering breath. “Okay,” she said quietly. Vivian lowered her hands in time to see Florence look down at the letter in her hand. “What do you think I should do with it?” she asked, her voice very small.
The question made Vivian unexpectedly angry. “Nothing,” she said fiercely. “Throw it away. You don’t need them, whoever they are. You have a family now, and it’s one that wants you. Whoever it was, we’re nothing to him, and he’s nothing to us.”
“But maybe we could be something.”
The thought was so painful that Vivian would have torn the letter to pieces if she’d been the one holding it. “Do whatever you want, then,” she said, her voice hoarse from holding back everything she didn’t want to say. “I don’t think it’s going to matter much to me.”
The brittle silence that followed made her regret the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. She wanted to take them back. But she was so tired of pretending.
“Come on,” Florence said gently, standing and holding out her hand. “I need to run a few errands before I head back downtown. Keep me company?”
Vivian took a deep breath. “Yes,” she said, pushing herself out of her chair. Planning could wait. She and Florence didn’t have many days left together. “I’d like that.”
The cop in the blue suit was waiting for her when she got home at last, leaning against the front of the building and scowling at everyone who went past. A cigarette that was nearly gone hung from his fingers.
He didn’t bother to straighten as she stopped in front of him. Vivian lifted her chin, daring him to say anything, and his lip curled as he stared at her. “Suppose you think you did something clever there,” he said.
“Not really, no,” Vivian said. “I didn’t need to be clever. You weren’t trying very hard.”
He glared at her, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of his hands clench into a fist. It hadn’t been a smart thing to say, but the reckless feeling inside her was back. Her breath came faster. What was one more bad decision in a day full of them?
But he only snorted, in irritation or laughter, she couldn’t tell. He tossed down his cigarette, grinding it out with his heel before immediately lighting another. “Anything else today, kid?”
“Not ’til tonight,” Vivian said. She gestured at the cigarette in his hand. “Got an extra in there?”
The cop raised his eyebrows at her, but he didn’t give her a lecture on girls who smoked. She was already heading toward a bad end, and they both knew it. He lit one for her and handed it over. For a moment, they both smoked in silence.
“Well,” Vivian said at last. She turned her face up toward the warmth of the sun and wished she could stay like that forever. “We’ve gotta eat. How about you treat me to a late lunch?”
This time his brows nearly disappeared under the brim of his hat. But almost immediately, he started laughing. “Sure, little girl. Why not? Like you said, we gotta eat.” Still chuckling, he shook his head, tossing his second cigarette down. “There’s a chop suey joint a few blocks east of here.”
“Sounds swell,” Vivian said. “What’s your name, by the way?”
“Edison.”
“Nice to meet you, I guess.” Vivian gave him half a smile; they both knew she didn’t mean it. “Let’s shake a leg, then. I want to get a nap in before I head out tonight.”
He chuckled again. “Plenty of time to sleep in prison, little girl.”
Vivian took one more drag from her own cigarette before sending it to join his on the pavement, two fallen stars ground out with the heel of her shoe. “I guess there will be,” she said. One more day. She wasn’t going to give up. Not yet. Not until she’d run out of time completely. “Lead the way, Mr. Edison.”
