‘Is he still in touch with the FBI?’
‘Yeah,’ she says curiously. ‘What are you thinking?’
What am I thinking?
‘I don’t know,’ I admit, ‘but I’m not OK with leaving Mila’s fate in the hands of Officer Quagmire,’ I say, purposelymis-saying his name. Aura-Blue bursts out laughing.
‘And why’s that?’ she asks, still chuckling.
‘It’s just a feeling I have,’ I reply, ‘but I need to talk to someone who believes that Dr Goodnight is real. For a bunch of different reasons.’
There’s a long pause before Aura-Blue replies. ‘Grandpa lives really close to your house, you know. We can go see him right now.’
As we drive down the long driveway right on the edge of the forest, we pass a sign that reads Whispering Pines. My heart sinks.
‘You didn’t tell me your grandfather was in a nursing home,’ I say. I don’t try to hide my disappointment.
‘I know it looks bad,’ she says, pulling into the back lot where the guests park like she’s done this a million times, ‘but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.’ I watch her profile as she carefully avoids my gaze and parks. ‘Most of him is still there,’ she insists. She turns off the engine and faces me. ‘If you don’t want to talk to him . . .’
I open my car door and get out in answer. What a mess.
Grandpa is in the rec room. I mark the nurses, the orderlies, and the locked doors as I follow Aura-Blue back towards a hale-looking man reading a newspaper by the window.
The hospital was like this, although the clientele was significantly younger – just as addled, of course, and just as many drugs and rubber diapers, but far fewer wrinkles. I used to think that the elderly in nursing homes were sad, but I don’t any more. They lived a full life and now they get to forget all the mistakes they made. Sign me up.
‘Grandpa?’ Aura-Blue says, touching the surprisingly fit-looking man’s shoulder. His hair is thick and solid white, like he’s about to pitch a reverse mortgage commercial. His doesn’t use glasses. He smiles up at Aura-Blue and stands to give her a big hug.
‘Marcy, where you been?’ he asks, squeezing her tight.
‘Mom’s not here,’ she tells him, casting a nervous glance my way. ‘It’s just me, Grandpa. Aura-Blue.’
‘Oh,’ he says. Like now he gets the joke and he can’t believe he missed it. ‘Every day you look more and more like her,’ he says, recovering winningly. ‘That’s a compliment, too,’ he informs me.
I smile and nod politely, but I’ve never met Aura-Blue’s mother, so I have no idea.
‘This is my friend,’ Aura-Blue says, introducing me. I shake Grandpa’s hand as he looks me over approvingly. I know how to dress for a visit with my elders.
‘Very nice to meet you,’ I say clearly, not too high and not too low, but dead centre in my register so he can hear me without me having to raise my voice.
I don’t know if he’s hard of hearing, but it’s best to start out neither shouting at an old man nor whispering. I’ve spent a lot of time reading to the elderly when my mother was still volunteering me for everything. You never know who’s all there and who’s stone deaf.
‘Francis Tanis. What can I do for you?’
He gestures with his rolled-up newspaper for me to sit opposite him, and I see the sheriff in him still. He’s obviously done this many times, and his hearing is all there. I fold my skirt under me and sit with my knees pinned together and tilted to the side.
‘I have some questions for you,’ I say.
‘About your missing friend Mila,’ he replies. He leans back and adopts a small smile, meant to goad me into telling all. Good cops never give more information than they get, unlike Officer Longmire.
I tip my head to the side. ‘That depends.’
‘On what?’ he asks, still smiling, sphinx-like.
‘On whether or not her disappearance is related to Dr Goodnight.’
He leans forward suddenly and shoots a look at Aura-Blue.