That’s not going to happen, and Marino can’t be there either, not that I’d encourage it. Next it occurs to me as an additional blow that I left my shopping bag in the cloakroom at the Faculty Club. I won’t have gifts for the chronically dissatisfied Dorothy. Dammit. That figures, and the fact is I can’t possibly do anything for her right now. I can’t pay attention to her or make the slightest gesture of welcome. I’ve failed, and that’s exactly how she’ll look at it.

She’ll view it negatively and as an unfairness directed at her personally. It won’t occur to her that she wasn’t quite as inconvenienced as the person who’s dead. Dorothy’s not even as inconvenienced as I am, but that won’t enter her head. Once again I’m the busy and inaccessible Big Sis, and if she reaches out and makes herself vulnerable, this is what happens. I can hear her now. I could script it.

I send a text to Lucy and Janet: Unable to make it to airport.

Possibly you could get Dorothy? Or she could Uber? Very sorry.

Almost instantly Janet answers: No problem. We’ll take care of Lucy’s mom. Maybe stop by later? We’d love to see you.

It always jolts me when Dorothy is referred to as Lucy’s “mom.” It never sounds right, and it’s at moments like this when I’m reminded of how bonded I am to a niece I’ve raised like a daughter. I admit I might be a little possessive, just the tiniest bit territorial and jealous.

CHAPTER 13

THE BULKY SHAPES OF centuries-old trees and tall dense hedges are etched against the night as we enter the John F. Kennedy Park.

Marino has slowed the SUV to a crawl. He’s turned the emergency lights and siren off. I count four patrol cars and one unmarked SUV parked bumper-to-bumper barely off the pavement. Deeper in it’s too dark to make out much, little more than impressions of something there. Maybe a distant mountain range. Maybe thick woods in murky shades of dark muddy colors.

If I didn’t already know what was around me, I couldn’t tell from what I can see. The darkness transforms benches, paths, trash cans, the bend in the river into a scene that could be almost anywhere. But I would know Boston across the water. Instantly I would recognize the Hancock skyscraper topped by its lance-like antenna, and the Prudential Tower. I couldn’t miss the lit-up Citgo sign, also known as the C-it-Go sign because so many Red Sox home runs have sailed over it.