Chương 9
“Is that enough?”
“For today.”
She opened the door.
Then she glanced back.
“And Danny?”
“What?”
“You should leave this house again.”
I looked toward the windows.
“Why?”
“Because outside wasn’t as bad as you thought.”
She left before I could answer.
I sat alone with her number in my hand.
Through the glass, the city existed beyond my gates as it always had, indifferent and moving.
For the first time in two years, that did not feel like an insult.
It felt like an invitation.
The next morning, I called Emma at nine twelve and hung up before the first ring finished.
I stared at the phone for ten seconds.
Then I called again.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“If this is an emergency, press one.”
“You gave me the number.”
“That doesn’t mean you get customer service.”
“You’re awake.”
“I work nights now.”
I looked at the clock.
“You said not to call at four in the morning.”
“It is nine in the morning.”
“Exactly.”
I pictured her in a dark apartment with the curtains closed, one arm over her face.
“I’ll call later.”
“Wait.”
There was rustling on her end.
“You already woke me up.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re getting alarmingly good at saying that.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
She yawned.
“What do you want?”
The question should have been simple.
I had negotiated million-dollar disputes with men who lied for a living.
I had once talked a supplier out of leaving the country while three federal agencies were looking at his books.
Now I sat in my study holding a phone and had no idea how to ask a woman if she wanted coffee.
“I’m leaving the house today.”
Silence.
Then, “Are you telling me or asking permission?”
“Neither.”
“Good.”
“I thought you might want to come.”
Another silence.
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Where?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“That sounds well planned.”
“I said I’m leaving, not invading Canada.”
“That clarification helps.”
I heard sheets moving.
“Give me an hour.”
“You’re coming?”
“I’m curious.”
“About what?”
“Whether you make it past the gate.”
She hung up.
Luke found me twenty minutes later arguing with a jacket.
The sleeves kept catching beneath my shoulders while I tried to pull it into place without asking for help.
He watched from the doorway.
“You know I can—”
“No.”
“Right.”
He crossed his arms.
I managed one sleeve.
The other folded beneath my elbow.
Luke waited.
“Say one word and I’ll shoot you.”
“I was going to say blue suits you.”
“Get out.”
He grinned.
By the time Emma arrived, I was dressed, irritated, and sweating.
She came through the front doors carrying a paper bag and two coffees.
“You made it downstairs.”
“I live here.”
“Strong start.”
She handed me a cup.
I looked at it.
“You made coffee for me.”
“I bought coffee for you.”
“Technical distinction.”
“Important distinction.”
Luke appeared behind her.
“Where are you taking him?”
Emma looked at me.
“You didn’t tell him?”
“I don’t report to him.”
“You kind of do.”
“I absolutely do not.”
Luke smiled at her.
“He absolutely does.”
“I can fire you.”
“You’ve been saying that since 2009.”
Emma looked between us.
“This is healthier than I expected.”
I ignored both of them.
“Let’s go.”
The driver had the SUV ready, but when the ramp lowered, Emma stopped.
“Do we need this?”
I looked at the vehicle.
“How else do you expect me to travel?”
“Accessible cab.”
“I’m not taking a cab.”
“Why?”
“Because I own cars.”
“You own one that looks like it transports presidents.”
“It’s secure.”
“From what?”
“People.”
“Specific people?”
“Yes.”
Her expression changed.
The joke went out of it.
I had never told her much about the shooting.
She knew only what everyone in the house knew.
Sniper.
Two years ago.
No arrest.
No explanation.
She looked at the guards by the door.
“I forgot.”
“You shouldn’t.”
The words came out harder than intended.
Emma lowered her coffee.
“Okay.”
I hated the distance that appeared between us.
Luke saw it.
“So,” he said, too casually, “where are you two going?”
Emma looked at me.
“His choice.”
I almost said downtown.
That would have meant familiar restaurants, private entrances, security-controlled rooms.
Instead, I said, “The lake.”
Luke blinked.
Emma smiled.
“Good choice.”
We went to Montrose Harbor.
The air cut straight through my jacket when the ramp lowered.
I immediately regretted refusing Luke’s help with the sleeves.
Emma wore a knitted hat pulled low over her ears.
She looked at me.
“You cold?”
“No.”
“Your teeth are clenched.”
“I’m naturally tense.”
“That explains a lot.”
The path near the water was mostly clear.
A few runners passed us.
A man threw a tennis ball for a black Labrador that ignored him and chased gulls instead.
Wind pushed off the lake hard enough that Emma had to hold her hat.
I rolled beside her.
The chair handled the pavement easily.
I had spent more money on its suspension system than she had probably spent on every car she had never owned.
For the first hundred yards, I noticed every crack in the pavement.
Every curb cut.
Every slope.
Every person who looked toward me for half a second.
Emma noticed me noticing.
“You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“Scanning.”
“I always scan.”
“No.”
She pointed at my face.
“This is different.”
I said nothing.
She looked ahead.
“You think everybody’s looking.”
“They are.”
“They’re not.”
A teenage boy passed us on a skateboard without even turning his head.
Emma nodded toward him.
“He didn’t.”
“He has headphones.”
A woman pushing twins in a stroller smiled at Emma, then at me.
I waited for pity.
She kept going.
“No one cares,” Emma said.
“That is deeply insulting.”
“It should be comforting.”
“Debatable.”
We reached a bench facing the water.
Emma sat.
I stopped beside her.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
May you like
The lake looked metallic beneath the winter sky.
A cargo ship moved far in the distance.
