Part 12 (2/2)

He shook his head slowly. ”So young. Such a wonderful man. He was the youngest professor ever to get tenure there. I recall one of his colleagues said at his funeral that he was the only man he knew who could recite Paradise Lost beginning to end.”

Jade shuddered. ”A dubious distinction.” He was testing Thomas, but even this jab didn't draw an angry response-only a disapproving stare. Very level man, very controlled, he thought.

Mr. Atlasia squinted over at him, his voice becoming serious. ”That's the kind of man he was. He was fascinated by everything. He beheld life through the eyes of a child. Reminded me of that picture of Einstein on a bike.”

Jade cleared his throat. ”I'd like to see Allander's room if that's all right with you.”

”Please, Mr. Marlow. This isn't Great Expectations. We weren't exactly going to keep a boy's room untouched in our house to remind us. Memories can be painful. We cleaned out his things years ago.”

Jade leaned forward, placing his thumbs under his chin. He stared intently at Thomas and the small yellow ring in his green eyes seemed to glow with antic.i.p.ation.

Thomas, obviously intimidated by Jade's glare, braced himself for the next question.

”How do you feel about your son, Mr. Atlasia?”

The door from the garage banged open. ”h.e.l.lo, honey, I'm back. You should've seen the look the kid at the counter gave me when I went through the whole line just to buy a single carrot.” A pocket-book banged down on the kitchen table and then some keys. ”Thought I was some kind of pervert or somethi-”

Mrs. Atlasia came around the corner into the living room, and upon seeing Jade, stopped mid-sentence. She blushed, covering her mouth with her hand.

Although she was in her sixties, Deborah Atlasia was an extremely attractive woman. Her smile radiated charm and grace, and she had a becoming self-a.s.surance. She could fill an empty room with her smile. Her warmth carried over to her eyes. Jade recognized her eyes-they were Allander's down to the crow's-feet that wrinkled from the sides.

It was eerie looking at those eyes, Jade thought, wondering how Thomas Atlasia could look into them every night and not see his son's reflection. Maybe he did.

Jade struggled to rise from the plush seat.

”I am dreadfully sorry. And rather embarra.s.sed, too, now that I think about it. I'm Deborah, but you can call me Darby.” She extended a hand and several elegant silver bracelets jingled around her wrist.

”Jade. Jade Marlow. You go by your maiden name, Mrs. Atlasia?”

Again, Jade was unsuccessful in his attempts to stand. She walked over and gently pushed him back into the chair, placing her hand on his shoulder and applying pressure.

”Please. Not Mrs. Atlasia. It makes me want to look for Tom's mom.” She laughed an elegant, womanly laugh. ”And believe me, I'd rather not.”

Thomas tilted his head and gave her a look of mock warning.

”Just kidding, hon.” She smiled at her husband.

Pus.h.i.+ng her light brown hair behind her ear with a cupped hand, she looked at Jade as if for the first time. ”So what do you do, Mr. Marlow? I mean, why are you here?” She stopped. ”Oh no. That sounds atrocious, I don't mean that.” She smiled again. ”I mean, what allows us to be graced with your presence?”

”Nice recovery,” Jade said, smiling and still trying to stand up.

”Thanks. I thought you wouldn't notice.”

”FBI. Sorry-I notice everything.”

She widened her eyes and pulled her head back a little. ”Well, I must say that caught me a bit by surprise.” The room was silent for a moment. ”Your mother know what you do?”

”No. She thinks I'm a pimp.”

Darby laughed uproariously and slapped her husband on the shoulder. Mr. Atlasia was in a more solemn mood than his wife, but he smiled nonetheless.

”Well, I suppose she'll be elated to learn of your s.h.i.+ft in vocational emphasis.” Her smile finally faded. ”I must admit your name did sound familiar,” she continued. ”As much as we try to block it out, the media still manages to creep its way in here-the radio, the television, on our doorstep. So we've heard of you. You're the one they call 'The Tracker.' ”

Jade cleared his throat and thumbed his silver chain absentmindedly as he considered how to make the transition back to Allander.

”A necklace, Mr. Marlow? I wouldn't expect a man like you to wear jewelry.”

”It's a chain. My mother gave it to me.” And I'll never forget what she said when she handed it to me, he thought to himself. He could see it draped over her outstretched hand, his brother's medical tags swaying beneath her fist. ”Something like a parting gift,” he added.

”Oh. You're not close?”

”No. We don't . . . no.” Jade cleared his throat a second time and was immediately angry at himself for doing it. Relax, he told himself. You sound nervous. ”Well, I'm-”

”I know. You're here to 'ask some questions,' ” she said, mimicking a businesslike voice and moving her head up and down as she imagined men did when filled with a false sense of importance.

”Just a few. I'll try to make them as painless as possible.”

”That could be difficult, Mr. Marlow. You are hunting my child.” She said it softly, yet sharply, and it stung a little. She wasn't angry, merely stating a fact. Clearly, she was used to hard facts, although after all that Allander had done over the years, Jade hadn't expected to find her quite so defensive.

Thomas began to trace the rocks on the fireplace mindlessly. He hadn't spoken a word since his wife had arrived, but Jade could sense they had a warm relations.h.i.+p.

”Well, obviously it's about your son.”

”Obviously,” she said, her smile returning. ”Of course no one would want to ask questions about us.”

She disappeared into the kitchen for a moment to retrieve makeup from her pocketbook. As Jade asked questions, she put on lipstick and blush, facing away from the men into a round mirror on the wall.

Darby's mood, like her husband's, was oddly giddy, Jade thought. They were all over the map emotionally, still trying to process the feelings moving through them.

”Have you been worried since he broke out?” Jade asked.

”Well, I suppose worried isn't quite the word for it. Concerned. Concerned is a better word.”

”For yourself and your husband?”

”And for him,” Thomas said, finally breaking his silence. He repeated himself as if explaining something to a child. ”She's concerned for him as well.”

”So you still feel close to him?”

”No,” Darby answered. ”But it is our blood running in his veins. We raised him, and he was a sweet, sensitive boy. He was always a little vulnerable, but he was so uncorrupted.” She put her makeup back into her purse and turned around. ”So pure.”

Still she did not sit, but crossed the room and played with little trinkets on the mantel. She seemed to be trying to avoid eye contact, especially with her husband. ”It's hard to let go of that. You understand, Mr. Marlow?”

”No. But I hear you.”

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