And she wasn’t happy about what had transpired.
Fucking Delaney.
“Sorry—Ms. Kachinski. I’m Detective Vaughn Ryan and this is Detective Darnell Sacker.”
“I remember you,” Sarah said, meaning Vaughn.
Vaughn was on the fence about apologizing for what had gone down in the field, but before he could say anything, Darnell spoke up.
“Ms. Kachinski, can we ask you a few questions?”
She put her hands on her hips. Didn’t say yes, but didn’t say no, either.
“Just a couple of questions about Dr.Reeves—Eugene Reeves.”
“What about him?”
“Can you tell us where he was two nights ago?”
“He was—” Her brow furrowed. “Two nights ago?”
“Yes.”
“He was in the field.”
“The same field as last night?” Vaughn said.
“No, not that one. There’s a field of Queen Anne’s lace behind the home. Dr.Reeves wanders there sometimes.”
“And he was there two nights ago?” Vaughn asked, deliberately avoiding looking at Darnell.
“Yes.”
“Unattended?”
Vaughn didn’t appreciate Darnell’s word choice. It made the esteemed doctor sound like a child. A once brilliant math professor being led around by the hand or worse, by one of those humiliating body harnesses attached to a leash.
“Like I said, around this time of year, Dr.Reeves wanders a lot.”
“Because of the fire?”
Ms. Kachinski nodded.
“We would like to speak to Dr.Reeves,” Darnell said.
The request seemed to annoy the aide.
“Dr.Reeves does not speak. Hasn’t said a single word in three years.”
Annoyed or not, she seemed broken up about this.
“We’re aware,” Darnell said. “How bad is he?”
“What do you mean?”
“Can he... I dunno, look after himself?” Darnell was at least trying to be considerate.
“Sure. He can feed himself, go to the bathroom on his own. Sometimes needs help with his food, depending on what it is. Cutting smaller pieces, that sort of thing. But he can’t speak and he can’t write.”
