Cause to Kill

The voice on the other end was tough and unrelenting.

“You sound asleep. Did I wake you?”

“No, no,” Avery said and sat up to wipe the spittle from her chin. “I’m up.”

“You never answered my email.”

“What email?”

“I responded to your email. I said yes to lunch. Are we still on?”

It took a second for Avery to understand what she meant, but then she remembered having emailed Rose at the height of her own excitement, when she thought she was on the verge of catching a killer. Now, hung over, a pariah at work, and not even sure about her own position, she was loath to dress up her misery in clothes and makeup and try to act like a loving mother in front of her estranged daughter.

“Yeah,” she said. “Of course. I can’t wait to see you.”

“Are you sure? You sound terrible.”

“I’m just, I’m fine, honey. Noon. Right?”

“See you then.”

The line went dead.

Rose, Avery thought with a sigh.

They were strangers. Avery had never admitted it to anyone, but nursing Rose and trying to be a mother had been a nightmare. At the time, the idea of motherhood had been beautiful: a new life, the wonder of childbirth, the possibility that Rose could save her relationship with Jack. In practice, however, she’d found it to be exhausting, unrewarding, and yet another reason to battle with Jack. Any chance she could get, Avery had hired a nanny, or put Rose in daycare, or handed her over to her ex-husband. Work had been her only refuge.

I was such a bad mother, she thought.

No, she tried to remind herself. It wasn’t all bad.

She had truly loved Rose.

There were plenty of great memories. Sometimes they would laugh and dress up together. Avery even taught her how to wear high-heeled shoes. There were hugs and tears and late-night movies and ice cream.

All of that seemed so far away now.

They’d been apart for years.

After Howard Randall, Jack had filed for custody, and he got it. He said that Avery had been an unfit mother, and cited numerous incidents, including pictures of when Rose had started to cut herself, and texts and emails to her mother that had never been answered.

When was the last time I saw her? Avery wondered.

Christmas, she thought. No, a few months ago. You passed her on the street. You hadn’t seen her in so long she was practically unrecognizable.

Now, Avery wanted to be a mother, a real mother. She wanted to be the person Rose called for advice and had sleepovers with and went on ice-cream binges.

Pain continued to stand in Avery’s way, the endless pain in her heart and stomach over what she’d done in the past, and what she still had to make up for as a detective. It was all consuming, a giant, dark monster that demanded to be fed.

There is no justice.

Avery pulled herself together.

In jeans, T-shirt, and a brown blazer, she stared at herself in the mirror. Too much makeup, she thought. You look tired. Depressed. Hung over.

A bright smile did little to hide her inner turmoil.

“Fuck it,” she said.

Jake’s Place on Harrison Avenue was a dark, cavernous diner with maroon booths and lots of places where people could enjoy a good meal and remain largely anonymous. On multiple occasions, Avery had spotted movie stars and celebrities. Rose had first picked the location during the custody dispute, and although Avery was sure it was because Rose didn’t want to be seen with her own mother, it had become the string that kept them together, and the only place they ever met after long months apart.

Rose was there early, already seated in a booth far away from other customers.

In many ways, she was a clone of Avery when she was young: blue eyes, light brown hair, a model’s features, and excellent taste in clothing. She wore a short-sleeved blouse that exposed her toned arms. A tiny diamond nose ring had been placed near her left nostril. With perfect posture and a guarded stare, she gave a perfunctory smile before her features once again turned blank and unreadable.

“Hi,” Avery said.

“Hi,” was the curt reply.

Avery leaned in for an awkward hug that wasn’t returned.

“I like the nose ring,” she said.

“I thought you hated nose rings.”

“It looks good on you.”

“I was surprised by the email,” Rose said. “You don’t contact me that often.”

“That’s not true.”

“I take that back,” Rose thought. “You only contact me when things are going really well, but from what I read in the papers, and from what I can see for myself,” she said with a squinted observation, “that’s not the case.”

“Thanks a lot.”

To Avery, who only saw her daughter in spurts every year, Rose appeared far older and more mature than her sixteen years might have indicated. Early admission to college. Full scholarship to Brandeis. She even worked as a nanny for a family near her house.

“How’s Dad?” Avery asked.

The waiter came by an interrupted them.

“Hello, there,” he said. “My name is Pete. I’m new here so bear with me. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Just water,” Rose said.

“Me, too.”

“OK, here are your menus. I’ll be back in a minute to take your order.”