“Tell me what’s going on, Kate. You just broke off a serious relationship, and you’re dating someone else only days later. That’s sounds like something I would do, not you.”

“We aren’t dating. I’m, well, helping him.”

I shook my head. “You think I don’t know my heinie from a hard drive?”

“He wants to become a-”

“A vegetarian. Sure. You know what I think? I think ‘Oh, my God, we were both born in the Year of the Rat’ would have probably worked just as well.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before speaking. “Okay. Maybe I feel an attraction. Is that so wrong?”

“How would the shrink who resides in the thinking part of your brain answer?” I said.

“That’s just it, Abby. I don’t want to think and rethink every decision. That’s what Terry tried to do for both of us; that’s what totally turned me off.”

“Bet Roark’s at least fifteen years older than you.” I swigged my Diet Coke.

“Fourteen.”

I had my burger halfway to my mouth and froze. “He’s forty-four?”

“How old is Jeff?”

I raised my chin. “Thirty-six.” We sounded like we were back in junior high school having a boyfriend war like we used to-mine’s better than yours. I took a deep breath. “Sorry. I guess his age doesn’t matter. I’m worried about you, that’s all. You had one big cry and now you’re over Terry? I don’t think so.”

“I’m moving on, Abby, and it’s not my fault if someone walked into my office and seemed like exactly the right person to help me do that. We have chemistry.”

“Yeah. So did my ex and I, even after we got divorced. Chemistry experiments can blow up in your face.”

Kate knew this was true. No reply needed. She drank her orange concoction and it left her with a neon mustache. She looked downright ridiculous when she said, “This is all your fault, you know.”

“My fault?” But I couldn’t muster any conviction. She looked too funny.

“I watch how you and Jeff interact. There’s all this passion between you, so much-”

I was unable to hold back the laughter another second.

“What?” she said.

“You look like you should do a billboard for ‘Got Carrots?’ ”

She swiped at her lips and then we were both laughing.

13

The next morning I managed to find my running shoes and spent an hour walking and jogging near the Rice campus. We were blessed with a perfect October morning, cool and bright, and I felt energized by the exercise. By the time I arrived back home, Kate had left for work, and the cell phone I’d forgotten on the kitchen counter must have been making noises while I was gone. Diva was sitting and staring at the thing as if it were a mouse hole.

When I picked up the phone, I saw I had a message from DeShay. I listened to him say, “Hey, Abby. The DNA comparison on the baby is in. After I talk this over with White I’ll get back to you.”

I closed the phone, thinking how Emma might have two sets of remains entrusted to her now-the baby’s and her mother’s.

But it was Emma, not DeShay, who called me after I’d showered and dressed. She said the police were coming to her hotel to talk to her. “Sergeant White sounded so serious, and he wouldn’t tell me anything over the phone. I don’t want to face him alone.”

“DeShay told me they have DNA results on the baby,” I said. “That must be what this is about.” I told her I was on my way, then checked to see if DeShay had left me a voice mail message while I was in the shower. But he hadn’t. Maybe he and White were shutting me out.

I made the drive to Emma’s hotel in less than fifteen minutes, but not soon enough. When she let me into her suite, White and DeShay were there. Room service coffee and a plate of fruit and croissants sat on the glass coffee table. White was holding a jam-loaded roll in one hand and a mug in the other. DeShay stood as I came around the sofa to sit next to Emma. White took a giant mouthful of croissant and nodded at me in greeting.

“I asked them to wait until you got here.” Emma took my hand and squeezed. “Go ahead, Sergeant White. I’m ready now.”

White had a mouthful of food, so DeShay started to speak.

“Hold on, Peters. Let me handle this,” White mumbled.

DeShay was seated directly across from me and rolled his eyes. “Sure, Sergeant.” Then he mouthed the word Sorry to me.

White swallowed, gulped coffee and picked up a napkin from the coffee table. He slowly wiped every millimeter of skin around his mouth. I decided this was his way of saying, You make me wait for this bimbo PI to show up, I’ll make you wait, too.

He gripped his lapels and straightened his one-size-too-small sports jacket. “According to the DNA comparison between Ms. Lopez and the female infant found on your property after the demolition, you and this child are not related.”

Emma seemed too stunned to speak. I was too stunned to speak. We leaned back against the sofa cushions simultaneously.

Finally I managed, “That sure tears a plank off the wall.”

“Yeah, it does,” DeShay said. “We need to take a formal statement, Ms. Lopez, and since you’ve been a little banged up by your accident, we can do it here.” DeShay picked up a laptop case from under the coffee table and took out a computer and a small tape recorder. “Sergeant White will ask the questions; I’ll take notes. We’ll also make an audio recording.”

“I-I don’t get it,” I said. “Emma saw her mother give birth.”

White said, “You’re here only because Ms. Lopez asked for a favor. I’d appreciate it if you’d stay out of this.” White looked at Emma. “I understand from Sergeant Peters that an unidentified woman found deceased in 1997 has tentatively been identified as-”

“Hold on,” I said. “Does Emma need a lawyer?” White and I traded angry stares.

“For crying out loud, this is only a witness statement,” White said. “But if you want to hold up the investigation, go right ahead and call up a suit.” He started to get up, but DeShay put a restraining hand on his arm.

“Hang on,” DeShay said. He looked at Emma and me. “We know from the forensic report that this infant was buried under the house about fifteen years ago. That would have made you around eight, Ms. Lopez. We don’t consider you a suspect. We just want to find out what happened.”

“Thanks for the clarification.” I looked at Emma. “You okay with this?”

“I’ll help any way I can,” she said.

White was sitting again, but I could tell by his body language that he was mad enough to eat nails and spit rivets. He addressed Emma. “Since you’ve hired Abby, you had every right to invite her here today, but you need to know that HPD can handle this case, get to the truth.”

“Like they handled the identification of my mother’s body? Let’s see… that only took ten years.” Emma was having none of White’s attitude, and I wanted to smile.

White’s ears reddened. “I understand your, um, unhappiness. I can assure you the ME’s office is comparing this dead woman’s DNA to yours maybe right this minute. Isn’t that right, Sergeant Peters?”

“Yes,” DeShay said. “We hope to have a positive ID as soon as possible. And we’re very sorry it’s taken so long.”

“I didn’t mean to sound critical, because I’m very grateful to the police,” Emma said. “But Abby’s the one who went to the morgue. She’s the one who showed me the reconstructed face of my mother. She’s helped me in other ways, too, and I want her to have access to everything you learn. Is that possible?”

White sighed. “Yeah. I guess that’s possible.”

Emma smiled. “Good. Now, what do you need from me today?”

“We’d like you to tell us again about the home birth. Tell us everything you recollect from the events that followed,” White said. “We need to figure out what’s real and what’s not-decide, if we can, whose baby this was.”

DeShay rolled his eyes again. White sounded condescending, but Emma had already shown she could hold her own with him.