Leaving Time: A Novel (18 page)

Maybe he would have reached me, too, if Maura hadn’t thundered from the tree cover, trumpeting so loudly that I froze. She swung her trunk and knocked my father across his face. He fell to the ground, clutching his right eye, which swelled within seconds. She danced nervously between us, so that my father had to roll out of the way or risk being crushed.

“Maura,” he panted. “It’s all right. Easy, girl—”

The elephant bellowed again, an air horn that left my ears ringing.

“Jenna,” my father said quietly, “don’t move.” And under his breath: “Who the hell let that elephant out of the barn?”

I started crying. I didn’t know if I was scared for me or for my father. But in all the times my mother and I had observed Maura, I’d never seen her act violent.

Suddenly the door of the barn slid open on its thick cable track, and my mother was standing in the massive doorframe. She took one look at my father, Maura, and me. “What did you do to her?” she asked him.

“Are you kidding? We were playing hide-and-seek.”

“You and the elephant?” As she spoke, my mother slowly moved between Maura and my father, so that he could safely get up.

“No, for Christ’s sake. Me and Jenna. Until Maura came out of nowhere and smacked me.” He rubbed his face.

“She must have thought you were trying to hurt Jenna.” My mother frowned. “Why on earth were you playing hide-and-seek in Maura’s enclosure?”

“Because she was supposed to be in the barn having foot care done.”

“No, just Hester.”

“Not according to the information that Gideon posted on the whiteboard—”

“Maura didn’t feel like coming in.”

“And I was supposed to know that how?”

My mother kept cooing to Maura, until the animal lumbered a distance away, still watching my father warily.

“That elephant hates everyone but you,” he muttered.

“Not true. Apparently, she likes Jenna.” Maura rumbled a response, approaching the tree line to graze, and my mother scooped me into her arms. She smelled of cantaloupe, the treat she must have been feeding Hester in the barn while the pads of the elephant’s feet were being soaked and scraped and treated for cracks. “For someone who screams at me for taking Jenna into the enclosures, you picked an interesting place to play games.”

“There weren’t supposed to be any elephants in this—Oh, for God’s sake. Never mind. I can’t win.” My father touched his hand to his head and winced.

“Let me take a look at that,” my mother said.

“I have a meeting with an investor in a half hour. I’m supposed to be explaining to him how safe it is to have a sanctuary in a populated area. And now I’ll be giving that speech with a black eye that was given to me by an elephant.”

My mother shifted me to one hip and touched his face, prodding gently. These moments, when we seemed like a pie before any of the pieces are eaten, were the best ones for me. They almost could erase the other moments.

“It could be worse,” my mother said, leaning against him.

I could see him,
feel
him, soften. It was the sort of observation my mother always tried to point out to me in the field: just the shift of body, the slide of the shoulders, that let you know there was no longer an invisible wall of fear. “Oh, really,” my father murmured. “How so?”

My mother smiled up at him. “I could have been the one to deck you,” she said.
For the past ten minutes, I’ve been sitting on an examination table observing the mating behavior of the Fundamentally Alcoholic, Washed-Up Male and the Oversexed, Overblown Cougar.

Here are my scientific field notes:

The Male is uneasy, caged. He sits and taps his foot incessantly, then gets up and paces. He has put a little effort into grooming today, in anticipation of seeing the Cougar, who enters the room.

She wears a white laboratory coat and too much makeup. She smells like the perfume inserts in magazines that are so overwhelming you are tempted to lob the whole issue across the room, even if it means you’ll never find out the
Ten Things Guys Want in Bed
or
What Makes Jennifer Lawrence Mad!
She is a blond with dark roots, and someone needs to tell her that pencil skirts are not doing her ass any favors.

The Male makes the first move. He uses dimples as a weapon. He says,
Wow, Lulu, long time no see
.

The Cougar rebuffs his advances.
Whose fault is that, Victor?

I know, I know. You can beat me up all you want
.

A subtle but measurable change in the atmospheric pressure.
Is that a promise?

Teeth. Lots of them.

Careful now. Don’t start something you can’t finish
, the Male says.

I don’t recall that ever being a problem for us. Do you?

From where I am sitting making my observations, I roll my eyes. Either this is the best argument for contraception since the Octomom … or this crap really works between men and women, and I will probably not have a date until I’m menopausal.

The Cougar’s senses are better than the Male’s; she radars my snark all the way across the room. She touches the Male on his shoulder and flicks her eyes toward me.
Didn’t know you had kids
.

Kids?
Virgil looks at me as if I’m the bug he’s squashed on the sole of his shoe.
Oh, she’s not mine. She’s actually the reason I’m here
.

Duh, even
I
know that’s the wrong thing to say. The Cougar’s painted mouth pinches tight.
Don’t let me keep you from getting down to business
.

Virgil grins, superslow, and I can practically see the Cougar start to drool.
Why, Tallulah
, he says,
I’d like to do just that with you. But you know I have to take care of my client first
.

The Cougar’s cell phone rings, and she looks at the number flashing on the screen. “Jesus on a cracker,” she says and sighs. “Give me five minutes.”

She slams out of the examination room, and Virgil hops on the metal table beside me, running one hand down his face. “You have no idea how much you owe me.”

This surprises me. “You mean you don’t really like her?”

“Tallulah? God, no. She used to be my dental hygienist, and then she quit and became a DNA squint. Every time I see her I think about her scraping plaque off my teeth. I’d rather date a sea cucumber.”

“They throw up their own stomachs when they eat,” I say.

He considers this. “I’ve taken Tallulah out to dinner. Like I said, I’d go for the sea cucumber.”

“Then why are you acting like you want her to plug and play?”

His eyes widen. “You did
not
just say that.”

“Ride the baloney pony.” I grin. “Storm the trenches …”

“What the hell is wrong with kids these days?” Virgil mutters.

“Blame it on my upbringing. I had a profound lack of parental guidance.”

“And you think
I’m
disgusting because I have a drink every now and then.”

“(A) I think you drink all the time, and (b) if you want to get specific, what makes you disgusting is that you’re totally playing Tallulah, who thinks you’re planning to ask for her number.”

“I’m taking one for the team, for Christ’s sake,” Virgil says. “You want to find out if your mother was the person who left that hair behind on Nevvie Ruehl’s body? Then we have two choices. We can either try to sweet-talk someone at the police department to order up a test through the state lab, which they won’t do because the case is closed and because the backlog is over a year’s wait … or we can try to get the test done at a private lab.” He looks up at me. “For free.”

“Wow. You
are
taking one for the team,” I say, all fake wide-eyed
innocence. “You can bill me for condoms. I feel bad enough, you know, without having to worry about her trying to trap you in a pregnancy.”

He scowls. “I’m not going to sleep with Tallulah. I’m not even going to ask her out. I’m just going to let her
think
I am. And because of that, she’s going to do your buccal swab and fast-track it, as a favor.” I stare at him, impressed by his plan. Maybe he
is
going to turn out to be a decent private investigator, if he’s this wily. “This is what you should say when she comes back,” I instruct: “ ‘I may not be Fred Flintstone, but I can make your Bed Rock.’ ”

Virgil smirks. “Thanks. If I need any help, I’ll ask.”

As the door opens again, Virgil jumps off the table, and I bury my face in my hands and start to sob. Well, I pretend to, anyway.

“My God,” the Cougar says. “What happened?”

Virgil looks just as baffled as she is. “What the fuck?” he mouths.

I hiccup, louder, “I just want to find my m-mother.” Through damp eyes, I look at Tallulah. “I don’t know where else to go.”

Virgil gets into character, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “Her mom disappeared years ago. Cold case. We don’t have much to work with.”

Tallulah’s face softens. I have to admit, it makes her look less like Boba Fett. “You poor kid,” she says and then she turns her adoring eyes on Virgil. “And you—helping her out like this? You’re one of a kind, Vic.”

“We need a buccal swab. I’ve got a hair that may or may not have been her mother’s, and I want to try to match the mitochondrial DNA. At least it would be a starting point for us.” He glances up. “Please, Lulu. Help an old … friend?”

“You’re not so old,” she purrs. “And you’re the only person I ever let call me Lulu. You got the hair with you?”

He hands her the bag he found at the evidence room.

“Great. We’ll get started on the kid’s sequencing right away.” She pivots, rummaging in a cabinet for a paper-wrapped packet. I am sure it’s going to be a needle, and that terrifies me because I hate needles, so I start shaking. Virgil catches my eye.
You’re overacting
, he whispers.

But he figures out pretty quick that I’m seriously terrified, because my teeth start chattering. I can’t tear my eyes away from Tallulah’s fingers as she rips the sterile packaging away.

Virgil reaches for my hand and holds on tight.

I can’t remember the last time I held someone’s hand. My grandmother’s, maybe, to cross the street a thousand years ago. But that was duty, not compassion. This is different.

I stop shivering.

“Relax,” Tallulah says. “It’s only a big Q-tip.” She snaps on a pair of rubber gloves and a mask, and instructs me to open my mouth. “I’m just going to rub this on the side of your cheek. It won’t hurt.”

After about ten seconds, she removes the swab and sticks it into a little vial, which she labels. Then she does the whole thing again.

“How long?” Virgil asks.

“A few days, if I move heaven and earth.”

“
I
don’t know how to thank you.”

“I do.” She walks her fingers up the crook of his arm. “I’m free for lunch.”

“Virgil isn’t,” I blurt out. “You told me you have a doctor’s appointment, remember?”

Tallulah leans in to whisper, although—unfortunately—I hear every word. “I still have my hygienist scrubs if you want to play doctor.”

“If you’re late,
Victor
,” I interrupt, “you won’t be able to get a refill on your Viagra.” I hop off the table, grab Virgil’s arm, and pull him out of the room.

We are laughing so hard as we round the corner of the hallway that I think we might collapse before we make it outside. In the sunshine, we lean against the brick wall of Genzymatron Labs, trying to catch our breath. “I don’t know whether I should kill you or thank you,” Virgil says.

I look at him sideways and put on my huskiest Tallulah voice. “Well … I’m free for lunch.”

That just makes us laugh harder.

And then, when we stop laughing, we both remember at the same
time why we’re here, and that neither of us really has something to laugh about. “Now what?”

“We wait.”

“For a whole week? There has to be something else you can do.”

Virgil looks at me. “You said your mother kept journals.”

“Yeah. So?”

“Could be something relevant in there.”

“I’ve read them a million times,” I say. “They’re research about elephants.”

“Then maybe she mentioned her coworkers. Or any conflicts with them.”

I slide down along the brick wall, so that I am sitting on the cement walkway. “You still think my mother is a murderer.”

Virgil crouches down. “It’s my job to be suspicious.”

“Actually,” I say, “it
used
to be your job. Your job right now is to find a missing person.”

“And then what?” Virgil replies.

I stare at him. “You would do that? You would find her for me, and then take her away again?”

“Look,” Virgil says and sighs. “It’s not too late. You can fire me and leave and I swear to you, I’ll forget about your mother and what crimes she may or may not have committed.”

“You’re not a cop anymore,” I remind him. And that gets me thinking about how skittish he was at the police department, how we had to sneak around, instead of walking in the front door and saying hello to his colleagues. “Why
aren’t
you a cop anymore?”

He shakes his head, and suddenly he’s closed off, sealed shut. “None of your damn business.”

Just like that, everything changes. It seems impossible that we were laughing a few minutes ago. He’s six inches away from me and he might as well be on Mars.

Well. I should have expected it. Virgil doesn’t really care about me; he cares about solving this case. Suddenly uncomfortable, I walk in silence toward his truck. Just because I’ve hired Virgil to figure out my mother’s secrets doesn’t give me the liberty to know all of
his
.

“Look, Jenna—”

“I get it,” I interrupt. “This is strictly business.”

Virgil hesitates. “Do you like raisins?”

“Not really.”

“Then how about a date?”

I blink at him. “I’m a little young for you, creeper.”

“I’m not hitting on you. I’m telling you the pickup line I used on Tallulah, when she was cleaning my teeth and I asked her out.” Virgil pauses. “In my defense, I was completely trashed at the time.”

“That’s a defense?”

“You got anything better I can use as an excuse?”