you,” Gianakouros said.
“Don’t make it sound like I’m pulling strings, Frank,” Leo said. He turned to me. “They found the rest of the statue she hit you with in a trash can on Parsons Boulevard. That, and the luggage matches. It took a while, but the 109th is satisfied you’re clean for Lenz’s killing. And nobody’s got any reason to hold you in connection with the attack on Susan. Right?”
Gianakouros nodded, reluctantly. “She backs up your story. Says it was Sugarman.”
“Susan’s awake?”
“On and off,” Leo said.
“Can I see her?”
He looked at Gianakouros. “I’ve got no reason to hold you,” Gianakouros said. “That’s what I’m being told.”
“Do you disagree?” Leo said.
“All I’m saying is, I hope I have half the clout you do when I’ve been off the force as long as you have.”
“It’s not clout, Frank. The boy didn’t do anything.”
The boy sat there and kept his mouth shut. Gianakouros wrestled with it for a minute. “He obstructed a police investigation. He could have told us all this last night.”
“He was in shock,” Leo said. “A woman he knows had just been stabbed practically to death. Anyway, he’s telling you now.”
“Sure, twelve hours later. Sugarman could be anywhere by now.”
“You’re going to book him for that?”
“No,” Gianakouros said. “But I don’t have to like it.” He turned to me. “Get out of here.”
As badly as I needed it, I didn’t even stop in the bathroom on the way out.
We stopped at a Burger Heaven instead. Leo ordered a cheese danish at the counter and I found my way to the men’s room. When I got back, he handed me half.
“Thanks, Leo,” I said. “You really came through.”
“It’s just a fucking cheese danish.”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“Yeah. Well. I’m all out of favors in the department now, so you’d better not get in any more scrapes.”
“I don’t plan to,” I said.
“You didn’t plan to this time.”
“There’s not going to be a next time,” I said.
Visiting hours were ending as we came through the lobby, but the nurse on Susan’s floor agreed to let us in for a few minutes.
Susan didn’t look any better than she had in the morning, but now her eyes were open. She said something. I couldn’t hear it. I leaned close to her mouth.
“Thank you,” she said. Her voice was a small whisper.
I found her hand under the sheet, gripped it tightly.
“Chest hurts like hell,” she whispered.
“You’ll be okay.”
“Never dance again,” she whispered. “Scars.”
“You kidding? The fetish crowd will love it.” A small smile.
“We should have known it was Miranda,” she whis- pered. “Only person who would know… about your childhood apartment.”
She was right, I realized: there was no way Jocelyn could have known to look for me at my mother’s apartment or to leave a threatening letter for me there; even if she’d somehow followed me to the right building, she wouldn’t have known what apartment I’d gone to or what my mother’s name was. Miranda, of course, knew both. It was the sort of thing you always think of when it’s too late to do any good.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said again.
“Police said,” Susan whispered, then she had to stop and take another breath. It hurt to see her strain. “… Miranda got away.”
“She didn’t,” I said.
I was exhausted, but still couldn’t close my eyes without seeing Miranda. I didn’t want to face her in my dreams. I’d have to eventually, but any excuse to put it off was welcome.
I called Daniel Mastaduno. He’d already heard from the police, but he still took it badly. What did I expect? It was his daughter, whom he loved, and no matter what he’d said, he’d never given up hope. Well, he could give up now.
I told him to call me later if he wanted to talk about it any more, ask any questions. He said, “No. Thank you, Mr. Blake. I don’t want to know any more. I wish I didn’t know this much. We were happy when we thought she was out there somewhere, living her life, and just didn’t want to talk to us. We didn’t know it, but we were.”
The terrible thing was, I knew he was right. I’d set out to do some good, for him, for Jocelyn, for Miranda, and I’d brought nothing but pain to everyone. Susan was hooked up to tubes and could hardly speak. I was still aching and bruised. The only person I’d actually helped was Murco Khachadurian.
Well, it wasn’t too late for one last attempt. I called Bill Battles, at home.
“John! Am I your one phone call?”
“I’m not in jail,” I said.
“I thought I heard they were holding you.”
“They were. They let me go.”
“You didn’t give them our file, did you?”
“It wasn’t mine to give.”
“Good, good. They’ll probably subpoena it, but that’s fine. We’ll give it to them when we see a court order saying we have to.”
“There’s nothing in it, Bill. What difference does it make?”
“Matter of principle,” he said. “You can’t start caving in every time NYPD asks for something. They’ll think they can walk all over you.”
“Listen, Bill,” I said, “you know how you’re always saying you’re looking for good people?”
“Sure – but John, I don’t know, you’re a little hot right now for a firm like ours… “
“Not me,” I said. “There’s a woman I used on this case. She’s new to the business, but she’s damn good at it. A real natural. She broke the case for me in three days, just working the phone. I was thinking Serner would be a great place for her to learn the ropes. Just phone work, though – not out on the street.”
“Why don’t you want her yourself?”
“A little firm like ours? You think Leo can afford another head?”
“What’s her name?”
“Susan Feuer.” I heard the scratch of a pencil against paper. “She got hurt on the case. She’s in the hospital now, recovering. But when she gets out-”
“I’ll talk to her,” he said. “No promises.”
“Of course. I’m just telling you, she’s great.”
“We can always use someone great,” he said. “When things quiet down, maybe we can even talk about you. Just not now, you understand.”
“I don’t want a new job, Bill,” I said. “I’m not sure I even want the one I have.”
Sleep came quickly, and at first it was the blank, dreamless sleep of the bone-tired. But somewhere along the way I had the impression of waking up. Only I wasn’t in my apartment any more – I was in Miranda’s, and not the one on Avenue D or the one on Fifteenth Street, but the one from our childhood. We were in bed together, side by side, and we were both young and hopeful and unscarred. But her hair smelled the way it had on Avenue D, and she felt in my arms as she had the last time I’d held her.
She unfolded a Rianon brochure, held it up so I could see the green lawns and pueblo-style buildings, and she pointed to a photo of the medical school campus. “I’m going to go the pre-med program for ophthalmology,” she said, “but just for a couple of years. Then I’m going to drop out and drive across the country, working as a stripper with a girlfriend. She’ll betray me, eventually, and I’ll kill her, but not because of what she’s done to me, just because she’s handy. I’m pretty sure that’s what I’m going to do. What about you?”
