Dawn followed Dr. Heinze through the Midtown Tunnel onto the Long Island Expressway. Her stomach totally knotted when he turned off on Woodhaven Boulevard and headed south into Rego Park. She'd grown up in this area. He continued on to Forest Hills where he eventually parked his car in the driveway of a two-story brick house with a manicured lawn and shrubbery that probably looked beautiful in season.
Home again, home again, jiggety-jig.
Now where had that come from? Oh, yeah. Her mother used to recite that nursery rhyme line every time they pulled into their driveway.
Dawn's throat tightened. God, how she missed her.
She shook it off and stared at the house. Well, Dr. Heinze, I now know where you live.
What she was going to do with that information, Dawn hadn't a clue, but she tucked the address away, just in case ...
She wound her way back to Queens Boulevard and Rego Park, and slowed as she passed the Tower Diner where she used to wait tables ... where she first met Jerry Bethlehem or whatever his real name was ... where he started spinning the lies that led her into his bed and got her pregnant with the child she was now chasing.
Full circle.
Her hands seemed to have a life of their own as they turned the wheel, taking her off Queens Boulevard into the confusing local residential streets. She headed for 68th Drive, which paralleled 68th Road and 68th Avenue. She slowed before an older, stucco-walled house with high-peaked gables and an attached two-car garage. On impulse she pulled into the driveway.
Home again, home again, jiggety-jig.
Mom's house. The house Dawn had left to move in with Jerry. She remembered it being better kept, then realized it had been almost a year since her mother had died in there, leaving a huge hole in her life.
A sob burst from her as she saw the foreclosure sign. Mom had loved that place, had worked so hard to earn it, and now ...
She stared at the darkened windows.
What would you do, Mom? Would you tell me to find my baby or let him go?
Dawn realized her mother might very well tell her to let him go. She'd warned her against Jerry from the get-go, but Dawn wouldn't listen. And Dawn was totally sure she'd tell her now that nothing good could ever come from something that came from Jerry.
And maybe she was right.
But I can't let it go, Mom. I can't.
A car pulled out of a driveway two doors down - the Schanz house. It turned this way and slowed as it approached, the driver probably wondering about a car parked outside the deserted Pickering place. Dawn's pulse picked up as she recognized Mrs. Schanz behind the wheel. Couldn't be seen here by that old busybody - not when she was a "person of interest" in her mother's death.
She turned her head, praying the biddy wouldn't recognize her in the failing light.
After Mrs. Schanz moved on, Dawn backed out and gunned away. She headed back to Manhattan, but she'd be back in the morning to trail Dr. Heinze from his house to the foundation - just to make sure he didn't make any stops between.
She shook her head, realizing how this had totally become a sickness. But she couldn't let go. She couldn't.