"Do you think Quinn could come out here if I have to stay a while?" he pleaded during one conversation. Howie would never ask Quinn himself; as always seeking one of us as a go-between.
"Let's continue to play it by ear," I responded. He always asked Betsy what cases he was missing by his absence. She soft-peddled her answers, knowing to tell the truth would only upset him further.
"I wanted Julie to come out here," he said the second day he was away. "She can't because Molly would miss school."
Soon it became apparent Howie would remain in Santa Barbara at least a week, perhaps more. We were surprised to learn he was staying in a motel and not with his mother's present husband. Betsy sensed friction between them. She and I discussed Quinn joining Howie. My wife thought he should go or Howie should simply kiss his mother's hand, give an excuse of pressing business, and come back east.
She made her case. "He hardly knows the woman and you heard what Martha said; she still holds a grudge over what she perceived as Howie's carelessness that caused her daughter's kidnapping and death. From what I read between the lines, the stepfather has no use for Howie, so Howie's presence isn't giving him any comfort. It's not like you and I who remember our parents; he literally just met his mother for the first time!"
"He doesn't know about his mother feelings of animosity. Martha's talking about what happened years ago. Maybe the woman is more forgiving now that so much time has passed."
"I doubt it and Howie won't use his ability to revisit his past and learn." We were in bed and this pillow talk was quickly becoming an argument I didn't want to have.
"She's still his mother," I countered, hoping to end the conversation.
"Fine. Let him stay, but send out Quinn. You're the boss."
"It's unfair to Martha to leave her alone with an infant," I answered. "Granted, Howie's mother might linger for weeks but she's still his only flesh and blood." Betsy responded with the words I didn't want to hear.
"Think of all the children he could be saving." She turned to the wall. I couldn't sleep and went down to the kitchen for a drink. Maybe I was picking up Quinn's problem.
I'd downed my bourbon and ginger and was about to return when my cell phone, on the kitchen counter, began to ring. My heart skipped. It was just after eleven. No good calls ring in at that time of night.
"Ben?" At first I didn't recognize the voice. "It's Julie."