I got myself some coffee. The two of us drank for a while before she said, “Ellie thought it was her fault. Jimmy and I found her rocking the baby, he’d been dead for a full day, she’d sat with him all that time, didn’t want to let go of his body.” Shivering. “I had to pry it from her.”

“So you allowed her to bury him in the backyard.”

She gripped both my hands, exerted astonishing pressure. “Why not, Alex? Her grief was monumental and we couldn’t exactly report it to the health department.”

“Of course not,” I said.

“We had a little ceremony. At night. Nondenominational. Each of us offered a prayer. Whispering to avoid alerting the neighbors. Jimmy dug the hole. I planted a little sycamore tree I’d purchased at the nursery. And flowers. Clivia. Around the base. They’re beautiful orange, love the shade. We wanted Sam—we gave him a name, so he’d be someone—we wanted to place him in a miniature coffin, but we couldn’t figure out where to find one without arousing suspicion. So we used … something else.”

“Metal box from the hospital. Used to bring money to the bank.”

“It’s what we had, the alternative was, what, an orange crate?”

“I assumed there was symbolism, Salome.”

“What?”

“He was seen as having great value.”

She stared at me. Smiled. “I like that. I will adjust my memories to include that. Now if you’ll excuse me—”

“Did Jimmy and the rest of you continue placing babies?”

“Of course,” she said.

“But Ellie stopped.”

Nod.

“What happened to her?”

“She moved to another city, I will not tell you where. Married a man who loved her, I will not tell you his name. Had a baby of her own. Died. That’s all you need to know, Alex.”

I stood. “Thank you.”

“You will tell the policeman?”

“No reason to.”

“Then why—ah, of course. You were always driven. A little obsessive, maybe?”

I smiled. “It happens.”

CHAPTER
57

Ninety days after Donny Rader’s arrest, Milo emailed me a link from Daily Variety.

His scrawled comment: No comment.

Prema’s Aura Shines Gallically