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Pick one and call. Make sure you tell him you got his name from me. He’ll take care of you.”She didn’t take the names from him. Instead she pulled a photo out of her purse and handed it to him. McCaleb took it without thinking. He realized immediately that this was a mistake. In his hand was a photo of a smiling woman watching a small boy blowing out candles on a birthday cake. McCaleb counted seven candles. At first he thought it was a picture of Rivers a few years younger. But then he realized it wasn’t her. The woman in the photo had a rounder face and thinner lips. She wasn’t as beautiful as Graciela Rivers. Though both had deep brown eyes, the eyes of the woman in the photo did not have the same intensity as the eyes of the woman now watching him.“Your sister?”“Yes. And her son.”“Which one?”“What?”“Which one is dead?”The question was his second mistake, compounding the first by drawing him further in. He knew the moment he asked it that he should have just insisted that she take the names of the two private detectives and been done with it.“My sister. Gloria Torres. We called her Glory. That’s her son, Raymond.”He nodded and handed the photo back but she didn’t take it. He knew she wanted him to ask what had happened but he was finally putting on the brakes.“Look, this isn’t going to work,” he finally said. “I know what you’re doing. It doesn’t work on me.”“You mean you have no sympathy?”He hesitated as the anger boiled up in his throat.“I have sympathy. You read the newspaper story, you know what happened to me. Sympathy was my problem all along.”He swallowed it back and tried to clear away any ill feeling. He knew she was consumed by horrible frustrations. McCaleb had known hundreds of people like her. Loved ones
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