“I don’t have a job, if that’s what you’re referring to. I’m a part-time docent at the art museum, and I volunteer two mornings a week at Santa Teresa Hospital in the newborn nursery.”

“Is there any chance your daughter had medical problems? Allergies, asthma, anything like that? I’m trying to understand what might have happened to her.”

“She’d had the occasional seizure since infancy and the pediatrician had her on Dilantin. I take it you ask because you think something might have gone wrong.”

“Exactly. I don’t believe those guys were hardened criminals. Rain tells me she was treated well. She believes they mixed sleeping pills in her lemonade, but instead of going down for the count, she got hyper and slept less and less. Suppose they upped the dose, trying to induce sleep? If Mary Claire was already on an anticonvulsant, the combination of medications might have been fatal.”

“I see what you’re saying, and it makes sense. My poor little one,” she said. She covered her eyes for a moment as though she might block out the very idea. I watched her work to compose herself and she finally sighed. “What now? Is this as far as it goes?”

“I don’t know what to tell you. I’m fresh out of leads. On the other hand, I can’t quite let go. I don’t like feeling I haven’t done my job right.”

She leaned forward and put her hands over mine. “Please don’t give up. One of the reasons I came here was to tell you how much I appreciate your efforts. Even if you’re facing a blank wall, don’t concede. Please.”

“I’ll do my best. I can’t promise you anything beyond that.”

Chapter 29 - WALKER MCNALLY

29

WALKER MCNALLY

Wednesday afternoon, April 20, 1988