“I wish kids today were that old fashioned,” Tally said. “Now it’s all hookups and apps. Technology has made dating so complicated.”
“That’s the truth,” Gabrielle said. “When did emojis replace phone calls and actual conversations?”
“I don’t know,” Tally said, “but I never agreed to those terms.”
Serrano said, “Again, we are sorry for your loss, Ms. Vargas. Now, just to confirm. You did see Matthew Linklater last Monday evening. Is that correct?”
She nodded. “We hadn’t talked in a few weeks. It wasn’t the first time he’d disappeared. I didn’t take his reluctance as malice. As I said, he just didn’t seem to really know how to function in a relationship, how or when to take the next step. But he was always kind.”
“That must have been hard,” Tally said, “trying to parse the mixed messages.”
“Especially from a scheduling perspective, making sure my son is fed. I don’t go out all that often, and when I do, if I don’t cook before I go, Antonio will just order in and eat an entire meatball pizza.”
“That would be your son. Antonio.”
“He was Antonio until about twelve years old, and then he insisted on going by Tony. But I kept calling him Antonio, and eventually he gave up trying to correct me.”
“And Antonio is a junior at Ashby High.”
“That’s right. He didn’t have any classes with Matthew. They didn’t know each other.”
“Did Tony know you were seeing Mr. Linklater?”
“He knew I was seeing someone,” Gabrielle said. “But I make it a point not to introduce men to my son until I know they’re going to be around more. That I can count on them. I never got to that point with Matthew.”
“After all the headache,” Serrano asked, “and with Linklater being so unreliable, why did you agree to see him again?”
“Do you know how it feels to be lonely, Detective?”
Serrano’s eyes met hers, and he nodded. “I do, Ms. Vargas.”
“Most nights I come home, take my makeup off, cook for Antonio, then read or watch TV. I’m asleep most nights by nine thirty. Sometimes it just feels good to have a reason to dress up. To do my hair. To stay up late, to have someone to talk to about your life, where you’ve been and where you want to go. Who will share theirs with you. And I guess I hoped one day I’d meet someone who could share my loneliness. So that neither of us would be alone.”
“What about Tony?” Serrano said.
“I love my son with every drop of blood in my body, but teenage boys aren’t exactly known for their conversational skills.”
Tally jabbed her thumb at Serrano. “Adult men aren’t always known for their conversational skills.”
Serrano shot Tally an annoyed look, but it was for show. He knew Tally was using him as a whetstone so she could sharpen her rapport with Gabrielle Vargas.
“What was your relationship with Matthew Linklater like?” Tally said.
“I’m not sure if you could really call it a ‘relationship,’” Gabrielle said. “I knew after the second time we went out, we might not have been what you’d call ‘destiny.’ He was so uptight. It was like dating a pair of corduroys.”
Tally laughed. Serrano said, “What’s wrong with corduroys?”
Tally locked eyes with Vargas, and they shared a sly smile.
“So why did you continue to see him?” Tally asked.
Vargas shrugged. Her arms unfolded just the slightest bit. She was loosening up. Times like this, Serrano couldn’t help but think that his partner was a remarkable detective. She was one of the toughest people he’d ever met, but when the situation called for it, she had the bedside manner of a doctor putting an anxious patient at ease before a risky procedure.
“I’m going to sound awful saying this, but he was there,” Vargas said. “He wasn’t a bad man. I’ve dated those. Too many and for too long.”
“Haven’t we all?” Tally said.
Gabrielle said, “Despite his oddness—is that a word?—he was kind. He was gentle. And he listened, and most importantly, he asked questions. Most men don’t do that. You can finish a bottle of wine and an entire charcuterie board and realize the person sitting across from you hasn’t asked you a single question other than ‘Are you going to eat that?’”
Tally laughed. Gabrielle continued.
“At my age, it’s all divorced dads who bring their baggage to dinner, or the older men who would rather date girls the age of their granddaughters. And then there are the cubs who have mommy hang-ups. And don’t get me wrong. You can have fun with younger men. But Matthew . . . he didn’t have any baggage. No moaning about an ex-wife or alimony payments during dinner. No catching him scrolling through a dating app when you get back from the bathroom. Matthew wasn’t the kind of guy who would sweep you off your feet. But I think as you get a little older, your priorities change. The men who say they’d die for you are the ones who assume every text message is from an ex-lover. Give me kindness, decency, and stability over grand, emotionally volatile gestures.”
“You and Matthew met online, right?” Serrano asked.
She nodded, closed her eyes, and smiled as though conjuring up a memory. “My son convinced me to try the apps,” she said. “I told him they were for high schoolers and pervy middle-aged men. But my friend Marjorie met her boyfriend on one, and they just got back from Cabo, so I figured, What’s the harm? But if I had a dollar for every ‘U up?’ or unwanted picture of a man’s junk, I could sail to Cabo on my yacht.”
“So Matthew was different,” Tally said.
“Let’s just say sometimes a follow-up question is the biggest turn-on,” Gabrielle said with a sad laugh. She wiped tears from her cheeks. “When I told him I liked nature documentaries, the next day Matthew sent me a link to ten of them on Netflix that we could watch together. When I said I’d had a rough day, he told me to tell him about it and sent me his list of his favorite nature-sound playlists. Sometimes it’s nice to know you can still be surprised.”
“Ms. Vargas, I hate to ask, but I have to. Did you and Matthew Linklater have a sexual relationship?” Tally asked.
Gabrielle nodded. “Planning a romantic evening when you have a teenager is like planning a wedding, only more complicated. I would have to organize a sleepover for Antonio at his friend Peter Lincecum’s house at least three weeks in advance. Antonio always fought me like hell, said Peter lived in a dump and his father was an asshole and why couldn’t they just stay here. You only get to play the ‘because I’m your mother and I said so’ card a few times. But I guess it’s better than getting a cheap motel room.”
Then it seemed to hit Gabrielle Vargas all at once. Her eyes grew red and watery, and she held her hands against her face as she began to sob. Tally held a tissue out to her before she even knew to ask.
“Thank you,” Gabrielle said, wiping her face. “What happened to Matthew . . . I have a hard time believing that kind of evil exists in the world. The only ones who deserve that kind of pain are those who do terrible things to children.”