She stood in the middle of her bedroom floor and looked at her king-size bed with its many pillows and fluffy comforter, feeling the silence of the apartment all around her. Who, other than her baby daughter, would hear her if she screamed? She hated to admit that she was afraid to go to sleep, but what other explanation could there be, when she was so exhausted and the bed was so inviting? Maybe if she played the TV or slept with the lights on.
Instead she decided to walk around the apartment and double-check all the locks. Always best to take action. Her stomach fluttered with nerves as she made her circuit. She tried to tell herself it was just hunger. Speaking of which—that arroz con pollo would sure make her feel better. She got to the kitchen and turned on all the lights, then headed straight for the refrigerator. Diet be damned. She was sad, tired to the bone, and scared. She needed comfort, which unfortunately she only got from starchy Puerto Rican food. Why couldn’t she come from a culture where comfort food was steamed broccoli or something?
The plastic container was way in the back, hiding behind the little jars of baby food. She maneuvered it out and stuck it in the microwave. Waiting for her food to heat, she saw the light blinking on the answering machine. Two messages. Of course Linda hadn’t bothered to answer her phone.
She hit “play,” tensing up as the sound of Steve’s voice filled the room.
“Hey, it’s me. Listen, I’ve been trying to reach you all day. I really need to talk to you, Melanie. Please stop screening my calls. Okay? Please? I’m about to catch the red-eye, and who knows if I’ll be able to reach you from the air. Please pick up. I know you’re there, Melanie. It’s after ten. Where else would you be?”
Linda was right. Steve took her for granted. She’d been in the file room getting chased at ten o’clock, not sitting home like some submissive wifey, but he would never believe that, not even if she told him. It was time to show him a new side of her. Maybe revenge was in order here. Hell, maybe she should just dump the son of a bitch and be done with it.
She jabbed the “delete” button angrily before the message was finished, then instantly regretted it. What if his plane crashed and that was the last she ever heard from him? Now she wanted the message back. He was trying hard to fix things, and she was giving him no hope. She thought about how sweet he’d been when she was pregnant—massaging her feet, carrying the sonogram pictures around in his wallet. But—who knew?—he could have been messing with Samantha already. Asshole. Just because he said it only happened a couple of times. Why should she even believe him? She hoped the plane fucking crashed. She’d get the insurance money and never have to see his lying face again. That’s what he deserved. But the thought of him dead brought her up short. Oh, God, she really just didn’t know what she felt these days, except that she’d better get started figuring it all out.
The microwave beeped. She grabbed a fork and stood there eating the fragrant, steaming rice straight from the container as she listened to the next message. It was from Sophie Cho.
“Melanie, it’s Sophie. Listen, I really need to talk to you about something. It’s very important. Please call me as soon as you get this message.”
Sounded urgent. Melanie put the container down. The clock on the wall read 12:10, but she was tempted to call despite the late hour. Maybe Sophie had some information about the Benson case? Sophie had requested an immediate callback, and she hadn’t put a time limit on it.
Melanie dialed Sophie’s number and stood listening to the unanswered rings. She counted ten, then hung up and tried again, to be certain she hadn’t misdialed. Again nobody answered, not even a machine. Sophie must have turned off the ringer for some reason. Melanie fished through the utility drawer, pulling out her address book, and looked up Sophie’s cell-phone number. She dialed it and got voice mail.
“Hey, Soph, it’s Melanie. It’s Tuesday night…well, Wednesday morning really, about a quarter after twelve. Got your message, tried to reach you, but now I guess I’m going to sleep. I’ll try you in the morning. But…um, if it’s really an emergency, you can call anytime. I’m home now, okay? Bye.”
It worried her that she couldn’t reach Sophie. She threw the rest of the arroz con pollo into the trash, then double-locked the service door off the kitchen. In the foyer she double-bolted the front door and put the chain on. Turning out lights behind her, she went to her room and snuggled beneath the covers, leaning over to snap off her bedside lamp.
The second the lights went out, she knew she wouldn’t sleep that night. She lay there, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. You never get true dark in a New York City bedroom without blackout shades, which she didn’t have. Dim bluish gray light filtered through the drawn blinds, allowing her to see just well enough to set her nerves on edge. Familiar pieces of furniture seemed to loom at her like attackers. Every creak from the old walls echoed in her ears like footsteps.
The sudden shrieking of the phone on her bedside table startled her. Heart racing, hands shaking, she grabbed for the receiver and nearly dropped it.
“He-hello?” she said, breathing rapidly.
Dead silence on the other end.
“Hello? Hello? Who’s there?” she asked, a tremor in her voice. She could hear someone breathing, then a click, and the line went dead.
Now she was really scared. She sat up and looked at her digital clock. Jesus, it was almost one o’clock in the morning. Who would call her and hang up at this hour? The caller ID was lit up in the dark room; it read “Private Number.” It couldn’t have been Steve. Or Sophie. They would never hang up like that. Slice? Light-headed with fear, she sat paralyzed on the edge of her bed for a long time, afraid to breathe, watching the red numbers change on the clock. She couldn’t even bring herself to get up and turn on the light. She knew this feeling too well. Years of it. Insomnia, terror. After her father was gone, when she was still living in that same apartment with her mother and sister. Not like Bushwick had gotten any safer. Every night, lying awake in the top bunk listening to Linda breathe, thinking about the office downstairs, the place where it happened. Wondering when that animal would come back.
IT WAS NEARLY ONE-THIRTY WHEN MELANIE GAVE in and dialed Dan O’Reilly’s pager number from the phone on her bedside table. She couldn’t handle the anxiety any longer. He called back immediately.
“You’re still awake,” she said, relieved. She got under the covers, pressing the receiver to her ear in the darkness. It felt good to lie down.
“Melanie?”
“Yes.”
“I almost didn’t return the beep. I didn’t recognize the number. We need a beeper code, you know.” His voice was low and husky. She wondered if he’d been sleeping or if that was just how he always sounded late at night.
“Beeper code? Isn’t that for drug dealers?” she asked.
“Nah, it’s for anybody who uses pagers a lot. That way you can beep me to any number and I’ll know it’s you. This is your home phone, right?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not sleeping? Because your lights are out.”
“I’m in bed, but I couldn’t sleep. How do you know my lights are out?”
“Really? You’re lying in bed right now, while we’re talking?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
“But I couldn’t sleep. Listen, I beeped you because I’m scared.”
“Where’s your husband?”
“Mmm, traveling.”
A flirtatious note crept into her voice despite her best intentions. Lying in the dark, overwrought, terrified, she was too weak to fight it. Talking to him made her feel so much better. She curled and uncurled her toes under the blanket.
“He left you all alone?” Dan said. “A very foolish man.”
Her heart raced, in an exciting way this time. She should hang up. But what the heck, they were just talking, right? What harm could it do?
“Yeah, well, anyway, I’m by myself. I got scared of Slice coming after me. I figured I’d call so you could tell
me I shouldn’t worry.”
“You shouldn’t worry.”
“Why shouldn’t I worry? I have good reason to, don’t I?”
“Because I’m sitting right out here in front of your house, watching the door.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously. I dropped you off before and never left. Think I’m gonna take a chance on you ending up looking like Jed Benson?”
“You’re really in front of my building?”
“Yes, ma’am, and the service entrance is visible from here, too. So nobody can get in without me seeing.”
“You’ve been sitting there all this time? You’re crazy!” It moved her deeply, that he would spend his own time watching out for her like that.
“What’s the big deal? Sitting up all night in my car is what I do for a living. Besides, after what happened tonight, this is probably the best spot to catch the bad guy.”
She laughed breathlessly. “Oh, thanks a lot! You’ll give me nightmares.”
“I don’t wanna give you nightmares. Only sweet dreams. Hey, think you’ll dream about me?” His voice as he asked the question was endearingly nervous, as if he feared he’d gone too far. He had gone too far, and it surprised her. Could he really be interested in her like that? Wow. But if he was, she really shouldn’t lead him on.
“Dream about you? We only met this morning,” she said.
“Huh, that’s right! We only met this morning. It’s funny, I feel like I’ve known you for a long time. Do you feel that, too?”
“Well, it’s been a long day. So in a way, it has been a long time.” She yawned, exhaustion catching up to her. “Listen, I should get to sleep.”
“Don’t hang up. We can just talk until you fall asleep.”
“What, and leave my phone off the hook? I can’t do that.” What if Steve called and couldn’t get through? Hah, it would serve him right! But really, how would she explain it? Didn’t she have enough problems?
“You really know how to shut a guy down, you know that?” Dan said. But she could hear a smile in his voice.
“Good night, Agent O’Reilly,” she said, unable to resist smiling herself.
“Wait, don’t go,” he said. “What’s your favorite number?”
“Um, I don’t know. Seven? Why?”
“Lucky seven. I like that, too. So that’s our code. If you feel scared, you beep me, put a seven in, and I’ll rush up there and rescue you, okay?”
“Okay. So are you really gonna sit there all night?”
“I was planning to.”
“Didn’t we agree we would go to Otisville first thing, so we’d have time to interview Delvis Diaz before Rosario’s grand-jury testimony?”
“Yeah, so? I was gonna pick you up at your office at eight. But I’ll just pick you up here instead.”
“But then you won’t get any sleep. You won’t even have a chance to shower.”
“You’re a very high-maintenance girl. Expect a guy to sit up protecting you all night and still find time to shower and shave and show up looking fresh as a daisy.”
She giggled. “I have high standards. We’ll have to see if you measure up.”
“Okay, then. I guess once it’s light, I better head home for some grooming.”
“Seriously, you should go home. I’m fine, really. I feel better now that we talked.” Now, why did she say that? She didn’t want him to leave. She felt so much safer knowing he was out there. But she had to put a stop to this. Every second they talked was drawing them closer, and she felt it.
“I feel better, too,” he was saying. “It’s good. Talking to you, I mean.”
“So you’ll go home?”
“I’ll hang out till I’m sure it’s safe. Then I’ll go clean up and pick you up at your office at eight. Me and Randall, okay?”
“Okay.” They were both silent for a moment. She didn’t want to hang up any more than he did, but she’d make herself do it. “Hey,” she said.
“What?”
“Thank you. Really.”
“Don’t mention it. Sweet dreams.”
She hung up, smiling again. But then the smile faded as she wondered what the hell she was getting herself into with him.
19
“HELLO? HELLO? WHO’S THERE?” MELANIE HAD said.
Sophie Cho opened her mouth to answer, but no words came. Before she even realized it, her finger moved to the button and clicked off the phone. She couldn’t do it. She’d decided she would, but when the moment came, she just couldn’t.
She sat on the glossy hardwood floor and looked around her completely empty apartment. Her furniture was gone, taken away by the moving truck that afternoon. The problem seemed too big, so she’d pretty much made up her mind to run away from it. It was the only solution she could think of. Eventually it would come out, what she’d done, but she was a minor enough player in this drama that she had to think the police wouldn’t bother pursuing her. So long as she went far enough away and left no forwarding address.
The possibility of anyone other than the police coming after her never entered her mind.
But even as she put her escape plan into action, she wavered. She was not an adventurous person. The thought of leaving behind everything she knew and starting over in some new, foreign place held not the slightest whiff of romance for her. It seemed horrible, in fact, like being sentenced to exile. When she really thought about it, was staying here and facing prison really any worse?
Such thoughts made her consider the possibility of confessing to Melanie. Surely Melanie, who knew her so well, could argue for leniency on her behalf. After all, who could have imagined such severe consequences flowing from one small, unorthodox bit of architecture? Sophie herself had never imagined it, let alone intended it. All she had tried to do was please a client. And yes, admittedly, she had filed false documents at his behest. Which was wrong. And certainly a breach of professional ethics. But anyone who knew Jed Benson would understand. Because he wasn’t just any client—he was a particularly persuasive and persistent one.
It was her inability to say no to Jed that had caused this terrible problem. She hugged her knees to her chest and rocked back and forth, berating herself silently in her mind. Why had she agreed? Why, why, why had she been so weak? Was it that he’d turned her head? Such a handsome and powerful man, paying attention to her? This was very unusual in her experience. But no. She was realistic enough about her own modest charms to understand immediately that Jed was merely adding another inducement to the package, along with the monetary compensation and the promise of future referrals. So why, then?
In the end she had to come back to her upbringing. She was raised to place politeness above all other qualities. To say no to a patron, one older than she was and male, would have been unthinkable. So she’d said yes.
And now it was done, and the consequences were what they were. She could bemoan and agonize as much as she liked, but she had a choice to make. Run—or stay and face her punishment. She hid her face in her knees. She would sit here all night, if necessary. But by the time the sun came up, she must make her decision.
20
IN THE LIGHT OF DAY, THE DESPERATION OF THE night before seemed alien to Melanie. Her fear had vanished, and with it the strange intimacy she’d felt as she lay in her darkened bedroom talking to Dan O’Reilly on the telephone.
Steve had something to do with that. He had woken her up, banging on the front door just as the sun was rising.
“Melanie!” he called. “The chain’s on! Let me in!”
She jumped out of bed and hurried to the foyer in nightgown and bare feet. Tiptoeing up to the door, she peered through the peephole. Better make extra sure it was really Steve. After last night she couldn’t be too careful.
The face was distorted by the lens, but definitely his. Not that that meant she should open the door. Steve was dangerous in his own way.
“Mel, I can hear you breathing. I know you’re there.”
She opene
d the door a crack, leaving the chain on. Steve was one of those rugged, sporty-looking blonds who tanned. Like Robert Redford in his glory days, Steve always looked as if he’d just climbed off the back of a horse or been squinting into the prairie sun. Okay, so he really caught those rays on the tennis court. But, hell, that turned her on, too.
“What are you doing here at this hour?” She made her voice as cold as she could manage. She knew she was vulnerable.
“Didn’t you get my message? I took the red-eye. My plane just got in.”
“So? Go to your parents’. You don’t live here anymore.”
His face fell. She noticed suddenly how exhausted he looked, unshaven, pale beneath his tan, his fine blue dress shirt creased from sleeping on the plane. She un-fastened the chain and opened the door a little wider.
“Are you okay?”
“Please, Mel?” He sounded hoarse, even choked up. “Can’t I come in? Can’t I come in for just a minute and see you and Maya? I miss you guys so much!”
Didn’t she miss him, too? And long for things to be how they were before?
“Okay,” she said, opening the door, telling herself she’d probably regret this.
He rushed in, grabbed her, and held on like his life depended on it, and for the first time in a long while, she didn’t push him away. He buried his face in her neck. She reached up to hold his head, to comfort him. His hair was shaggy, flowing over his collar. She used to remind him when he needed a haircut, but she’d stopped doing that after she found out about Samantha. It wasn’t like him not to take care of himself. It meant he was suffering. She felt his pain as if it was her own. Wait a minute, it was her own! He was the one who hurt her! What was she doing comforting him?
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