U Is For Undertow

Walker leaned forward as Brent turned into Valley Oaks. “It’s this lane on the right. Number 17. You can pull into the parking pad and wait. It should be half an hour or so.”

Brent shut down the engine and Walker got out. He hadn’t seen his father since the accident, and while he dreaded the coming conversation, he had no other way of finding out if Kinsey Millhone had succeeded in reaching him. He could see his father peering at him from the window as he came up the walk. Walter opened the door, standing erect, his ma

“I didn’t expect to see you.”

“Sorry about that, Dad. I should have called, but I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by. There’s something I’d like to ask about.”

“Come in, come in,” Walter said, stepping back. “You have time for a cup of coffee?”

“I could probably manage that,” he said. “Don’t go to any trouble-”

“No trouble. Let’s go back to the great room, where you can make yourself comfortable. How are Carolyn and the children?”

“Doing well, thanks. I just came from the house, as a matter of fact. And yourself?”

“Tolerable. That pain in my hip is largely gone and I’ve been increasing my walks. I’m up to two miles these days.”

Walker perched on the couch and watched as his father set about putting together a pot of coffee, carefully filling a carafe of water, which he poured into the tank. He added six small scoops of ground coffee, double-checking everything before he pressed the button that set the coffeemaker in brewing mode.

His father returned to the sitting area. “Coffee will take a minute,” he remarked.

Walker couldn’t think of a response. He was casting about for some way to introduce the subject of the accident and all of its attendant horrors.

His father cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose I need to tell you how distressed I am about this recent business of yours. Carolyn stopped by and told me. She made a special point of coming over because she didn’t want me to hear about it from a third party.”

“I appreciate her consideration. I would have told you myself, but I’ve been down for the count.”

“Yes.”

The word seemed like a non sequitur. Walker had hoped for some help getting through the awkwardness of the discussion. “I was horrified, as you might imagine.”

“And rightly so. If your mother were alive, this would break her heart.”

“Well, I guess we can both be grateful she was spared,” Walker said. Wrong tone, he thought. He tried again. “I understand how upset you must be, but I’ve been knocked to my knees as well. How do you think I feel, knowing that poor girl is dead because of me?”

“Carolyn said you’d blanked on all of it.”

“I had a concussion. I was knocked unconscious. The doctor says amnesia is pretty common under the circumstances.”

“Carolyn believes you suffered an alcoholic blackout, which is a horse of another color.”

“That’s ridiculous. I didn’t black out.”

“Perhaps not. I thought she made a good case.”

“Well, I’m glad the two of you had such a happy chat at my expense.”

“She’s entitled to her opinion.”

“She’s hardly the reigning expert-”

“Son, you’d be wise to cut the sarcasm. She’s a wonderful woman and you’re fortunate you have her standing by you.”

“I don’t know where you got the impression she was ‘standing by’ me. She’s barely civil.”

“I’m sure she’ll come around in time. You have the children to think of. It would be a pity if this tragedy ruined their lives as well as hers.”

The coffee was done and his father left the sitting area to attend to cups and saucers. He set up a tray with the sugar bowl, a cream pitcher, and two spoons.

While he was occupied, Walker debated how best to approach the matter of Kinsey Millhone. The name had no more than crossed his mind when he glanced down at the coffee table and saw her business card propped up against a potted plant. He picked it up, noting her office address and phone number. There was nothing about the kinds of cases she handled. Walker fingered the card.

His father returned with a tray, cups rattling against the saucers as he walked. He set the tray on the coffee table and passed a cup to Walker. “I forget what you take with your coffee. I have half-and-half.”

“Black’s fine,” he said. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?”

“This is what I wanted to ask. Carolyn told me a private investigator called the house looking for you. According to my attorney, a conversation with this woman would be out of line.”

“I’ve already met with her and you needn’t be alarmed. Her reasons for seeing me had nothing to do with you. She stopped by a few days ago and asked about a dog I treated once upon a time.”

“A dog?”

“She had questions about the protocol when a pet was put down. I told her what I could, and she left her card in case I had something to add. She was a very pleasant young woman. We chatted for a bit about this and that, and then she left. I doubt she was here thirty minutes, if that.”

“Did she mention I went to high school with her?”

“I wasn’t aware of it. She was here on an entirely separate matter.”

“What did you tell her?”

His father stopped with the cup halfway to his lips. “I’m quite capable of having a conversation independent of your oversight.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to butt in. I don’t want her to take advantage of our prior acquaintance.”

“Your name didn’t come up. She sought me out of her own accord, though it’s no concern of yours. I suggest you get your own house in order and let me worry about mine.”

He let the subject drop, stung by the rebuke. The conversation bumbled on until he felt enough time had passed to make his excuses and return to the car. His father declined to walk him to the door.

He was barely aware of the drive home. He rolled down the nearest window and let the air whip through the car’s interior, cooling his face and buffeting his hair. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. Brent shot him a look in the rearview mirror. Walker didn’t feel he had to explain. He was hot. What business was that of Brent’s? The same thoughts assailed him persistently. Kinsey knew about the dog. He couldn’t figure out how she’d arrived at his father’s door. By what circuitous logic had she linked his father and the dog’s remains? Walker had seen her at the dig and within a week, she was six steps behind him and gaining.

By the time Brent dropped him off at the Pelican, the combination of caffeine and anxiety had triggered something close to a panic attack. Walker locked the door behind him and staggered to the bed. His heart was thudding at a rate that made him pant and sweat. It was like an overdose of speed, which he’d experienced twice in his lifelong association with drink and drugs. He sat on the edge of the bed, clutching his chest, afraid to stand up again for fear of passing out. He was dying. He would die. The terror would mount until it crushed him under its weight.

Seven days sober. He wondered if it was possible to make it even one more hour. There was a cocktail lounge two blocks away. He pictured the quick walk, the glittering rows of bottles behind the bar. The lighting would be muted and he doubted he’d see anyone he knew. One drink would calm him. One drink would tide him over to the next day. Mornings were easier anyway, though the day would stretch before him like eternity. All he had to do was get up, cross the room, walk the two blocks to the bar. His hands began to shake.

He picked up the phone and called Leonard.