49
I stood high on a hill, my hands in my pockets, feeling the wind on my face, as I watched the Pacific waters of the Sound below appear to be endlessly and futilely pushing against the rocks, accomplishing nothing and retreating. But history had taught me that the incessant beating of the waves, over time and invisible to the naked eye, were wearing away the surface of the rocks. Some behavior that seems to go initially unimpeded may eventually receive its due. So, too, it would have to be with Lola. After verifying that none of Jackie’s wineglasses had gone missing, I was convinced that Lola had committed the crime. But I was bound by the doctor-patient confidentiality.
“Beautiful and relentless,” Carrie said. She slipped her arm under mine. “Come, walk with me.”
We strolled down the
