Free The Golem of Paris by Jonathan Kellerman, Jesse Kellerman

counterwoman cleared her throat. “Mister.”
    Jacob took his lunch to go.
    •   •   •
    D AN B ALLARD ’ S OBITUARY STATED that he was survived by his mother, Livia. Back at his apartment, Jacob searched for her on his home computer and got another obituary.
    A lifelong bachelor? Or estranged from his ex, his kids?
    Jacob felt an unwelcome sense of kinship.
    He phoned Theresa Krikorian’s widower, a retired firefighter out in Simi Valley, and introduced himself.
    “The file’s pretty thin,” he said. “I figured maybe she mentioned it to you.”
    “Huh,” the husband said. His name was Ray, and he sounded like every firefighter Jacob had met: gregarious and mellow and sheltering, a cop without the jaded edge. “I’d love to help you out, but I really don’t remember much. Mind if I ask what made you guys decide to reopen it?”
    “It was never officially closed.”
    “Honestly, it’s kinda hard to talk about those days. It happened right around the time she got sick.”
    “I’m sorry,” Jacob said.
    “It is what it is.” Ray paused. “I always thought that was a dumb thing to say. You know? Anyhow . . . Terri always did have trouble leaving her work at work, and that case really got to her. From what I recall, it was pretty heinous.”
    “It was.”
    “We have a daughter about the same age.”
    Today she’d be fourteen or fifteen. Crushes, first kiss, crystallizing sense of self.
    Stages Thomas White Jr. would never attain.
    Ray had fallen silent again. To draw him out, Jacob asked about his daughter.
    “Phoebe? She’s terrific. Sharp, like her mom.”
    “Any other kids?”
    “A boy, Will. Twelve.” Ray laughed. “He’ll be happy driving a shiny red truck.”
    “Who wouldn’t?”
    “Yeah, well. He talks about the Marines, too. I told him to save his back. That’s what finished me off. Disc degeneration.”
    “You served.”
    “Desert Storm.” A beat. “I will tell you that when Terri caught the case, it was a big step up for her. Till then, she’d done auto theft and burglary. She was psyched to work her first homicide. I don’t know why they thought it was smart to give her this one in particular. I mean, Christ, they knew she had young kids at home. Maybe they thought they were doing her a favor, tossing her into the deep end.”
    “Sure,” Jacob said, although he considered it more likely that the mechanism behind Terri Krikorian’s case assignment was like everyone else’s: indifferent.
    “It changed her,” Ray said. “Before that, she was never the overprotective type. The opposite, actually, easygoing. She and I were both busting our butts, trying to get ahead, working these crazy hours. We used to leave our kids with the neighbor. But once Terri started working the mother-son thing, her attitude did a total one-eighty, it was, ‘No, it’s not safe, one of us needs to be home.’ Have you ever been out to Simi Valley?”
    “Once or twice.”
    “Then you know, it’s not the mean streets. You got kids running around in their front yards, playing together. The biggest danger is peanut allergies. Terri, she starts asking me to cut back on my shifts so I can do day care. We fought about it a lot. I was like, ‘Why should I be the one to adjust? It’s your job, yadda yadda.’ Looking back, I can’t believe what a big deal I made about it.”
    The remorse in his voice pinched Jacob’s heart.
    “You get stuck believing certain things are so important, and they’re vanity and bullshit. Tell me she’ll be gone three years later, you think I’m standing my ground?”
    “You didn’t know,” Jacob said.
    “Yeah.” Ray laughed sadly. “Whoever said what you don’t know can’t hurt you was the biggest idiot that ever lived. What you don’t know is
exactly
what beats the shit out of you.”
    •   •   •
    A ROUND DINNERTIME , Jacob phoned Pacific Continuing Care to ask about his mother. The nurse who picked up sounded casual. Appetite normal,