But now as he sketched her, witnessing her sleep so pure, so complete, Rina had transformed in his mind into all that was chaste and good. Any sexual fantasy with her would be totally obscene—an act of incest. Any thoughts of harming her had been erased from his mind.

His own mother had died when he was fourteen.

Maybe this one would stick around a little longer.

His own Madonna.

The image sat well with him.

26

I was dead to the world, deep in REM, but my brain must have registered some autonomic signal. As I groped for the phone, I felt my heart banging in my chest; my head dipped in foggy consciousness. I must have said hello because she spoke, saying words that I couldn’t yet integrate. When I heard the word “lieutenant,” I came alive. The clock on my nightstand told me it was three-fifteen in the morning.

“I know who you are,” I told her. “Is your husband okay?”

“The lieutenant is fine,” she assured me. “I’m terribly sorry to wake you up like this, but I just came from your boyfriend’s place. He’s not feeling well. I thought you’d like to know.”

“My boyfriend?” I was agitated, not fully awake. My voice was heavy; my speech was clipped and confused. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Who are you talking about?”

“I’m not making myself clear,” she explained. “I’m not in Los Angeles, Terry. The lieutenant and I are in New York.”

New York.

Okay.

At least, I now knew whom she was talking about. She had the good sense not to use names. I often heard unexplained clicks on my phone. Not surprising considering who had fathered my son. “Is…” I was having trouble catching my breath. “Is the lieutenant having some kind of problem with him?”

“No, the lieutenant is fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. I only called because of your boyfriend. He really isn’t feeling well.”

Again my heartbeat soared. My first thoughts were concern for his actual welfare. Almost simultaneously, those thoughts blurred into what would happen to my son and me if he were permanently compromised. Not very noble, but survival was a very strong instinct. I had a child to care for. I had two years of medical school remaining. I had a severely damaged credit history, a very humble savings account, and no other means of support. His well-being dictated my own.

I’d been silent for a long time. “How sick is he?”

“He’ll be fine, but you might want to pay a visit. I’ve booked you and your son on a ten o’clock from O’Hare to La Guardia. If you’re not interested, I’ll cancel it.”

My head was awhirl with the logistics of the visit. Could I afford the plane fare? Could I afford a baby-sitter? Could I afford to miss school? Silly musings. In the end, I had no choice. “I’ll keep the reservation. But it’s better if I leave my son at home with a baby-sitter.”