The Graves by Pamela Wechsler

Author:Pamela Wechsler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

Chapter Thirty-One

After the meeting, Kevin and I go to the morgue, and on our way back, we get stuck in a massive traffic jam on Mass Ave. Kevin uses the downtime to call his wife and make a movie date. I eavesdrop on their conversation. She wants to eat at the Centre Street Cafe and see a rom com; he’d rather dine at Doyle’s and take in an action flick. They settle on pizza and a game of darts at J. J. Foley’s.

Sirens blare. Two lanes of cars pull to either side of the street, making enough room in the middle for emergency vehicles. Two ambulances, a fire truck, and three marked police cruisers zoom by.

“It’s either a bad crash or a jumper on the bridge,” Kevin says.

He turns on the scanner. I check my e-mails.

“A seven-year-old boy, riding his bike, was hit,” I say.

“Dead?”

“He’s at the Mass General, on life support.”

Even though we’re knee deep in the serial killer investigation, I can’t resist a child fatality. Kevin indulges me in a way that feels intimate and oddly romantic—in a gesture of unspoken understanding, he flips on the blue flashers.

He races us to the Mass General emergency room and parks in the ambulance bay. When I’m halfway through the revolving door, I’m surprised to see my sister-in-law in the lobby of the hospital. She’s upset, pacing, blowing her nose, and talking on her cell phone.

“I’ll meet you in the emergency room,” I say to Kevin.

As soon as I join Missy, before I can ask what’s wrong, she says, “She’s okay.”

I’m confused. “Who?”

“It’s my fault. I should never have let her drive, but you know how she can be when she sets her mind on something.”

There’s only one person she could be referring to. “My mother?”

“She’s banged up, but she’ll be fine.” Missy stops, looks at me. “There was a little boy.”

I take this in and start to tremble with rage. “My mother, she’s the one who hit the kid on the bike?”

Missy looks out the window. “There’s Charlie.”

I turn to see my brother, handing cash to a taxi driver. He rushes in, and we all walk toward the emergency room. A receptionist gives us visitor stickers, and we slap them on. Missy and Charlie go to my mother’s room, but I move toward Kevin.

“Aren’t you coming to see Mom?” Charlie says.

I shake my head. Nothing good will come from spending time with my family right now. I’ll be angry and accusatory; they’ll be defensive and dismissive. When it comes to my mother, my family members are like big tobacco executives.

I join Kevin, who is on the phone, outside an exam room.

“How is the boy?” I say.

“He’s having a CT scan.” He points to a woman, about my age, seated in the waiting area. “That’s his mother.”

“Does anyone know who the driver is?” I say.

“Her name is Hollingsworth.”

I look at Kevin carefully. “My mother’s maiden name is Hollingsworth.”

I don’t have to spell it out for him. He nods. Missy probably came

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