“Neil?” he asks.
“Doctor Lomas has nothing to do with this,” she assures him.“Forget about Neil.”
She hopes that he will take her advice. She has thoughtenough about Doctor Neil Lomas for every man, woman, and child in this city.
Harrick shows them out, then returns a moment later. McCoyhas not left her spot at the table. He places a hand on her shoulder.
“He’s been a good boy,” Harrick says. He’s referring to thewiretap of Walter Benjamin’s phone. They are taking no chances.
“Walter Benjamin is a decent enough guy caught up insomething ugly.” McCoy tries to get out of her chair but stops. She is weary,emotionally and physically exhausted, and this thing has hardly begun.
“I didn’t mean to put that bug in his ear,” she says. “Nowhe thinks that what he told Doctor Lomas might have gotten Sam Dillon killed.”
“You had no choice, Jane. We had to be thorough.”
“You see the look on his face?” She shakes her head. “On themere suggestion that he might be responsible for what happened to Dillon? I’venever seen anyone so tortured.”
Harrick takes the seat next to her. “I have,” he says. “I’veseen it on your face every single day for the last month.”
TWO DAYS EARLIER…
The firm’s party after veto session: Sam was a bit drunk butshy, nevertheless, as he broached the idea of dating me. It felt weird butexciting. Even feeling weird, itself, was exciting. It made me realize howboring my life had become.
Allison pulls away from the desk and leaves the room. Shefeels dizzy. She lowers herself to a crouch and takes a moment. “Do youremember that?” she mumbles to him. “Do you remember that moment, afterbreakfast, and we were all sweaty from the run, and you mentioned the shower?Do you have any idea how much I wanted to get in there with you?”
She feels the pain in her stomach. She needs to eat today,or it will be forty-eight hours without food. She also needs to get back to heroriginal purpose for coming upstairs and working on the computer, not thememories she was composing, and certainly not whispering sweet nothings to aman who is dead.
He is dead. She needs that fact to penetrate her skull.
The problem is, she has no pictures of Sam. Not a singlephoto. It’s probably because they were so covert, initially; not wanting toflaunt a relationship in Mat’s face, and photography was a form ofdocumentation. She has nothing to look at but what’s in her mind’s eye, andthat will fade like everything else.
So this is her scrapbook, her reminder of every day theyspent together. But now she needs to get back to it. She switches screens, fromthe memorial she is composing to her dialogue.
Allison arches her back, stretches her arms. This is tooforced. Not natural enough. That’s what dialogue is all about, right? Writinghow people talk.
She goes back to the other screen, but she can’t get Sam outof her head.
“There are things you don’t know, Allison,” Sam had toldher. This was-what? — maybe two weeks before he died. Yes. Two weeks. Thefollowing week was the phone call. She had pushed him to elaborate. Things hadbeen going so well, and now-now they seemed different.
“It’s something I’m going to have to-I guess you could sayI’m having an ethical dilemma,” he told her, sighing through the phone.
And the next week-a Wednesday, she remembers. The Wednesdaybefore he died. Another phone call, even though Sam was in the city.
“I–I can’t explain what’s going on, Allison.”
“This is that ‘ethical dilemma’ you were talking about?”
“I really-I can’t talk to you about it.”
“Something’s going on,” she said.
“Yes. You’re right. And when the time comes, I’ll tell you.Not now.”
“I’m worried about you,” she told him.
“Oh, Jesus.” Allison wipes the sweat from her forehead. Shecan’t keep doing this, torturing herself like this. However difficult it maybe, she must focus.
ONE DAY EARLIER…
I promise not to make a habit out of having you come to myhouse,” Allison says to Paul Riley. She stretches, after two hours ofpreparation for the preliminary hearing this coming Thursday, March 4.
“Not a problem,” Paul says. They are in the living room.Allison told Paul that she didn’t want to spread out at the kitchen ordining-room tables. She wanted something more comfortable, she told him. Forthe most part, they just talked, anyway, didn’t cover many documents, so theliving room worked just fine.
The state will call a forensic pathologist to confirm deathby homicide and to fix the time of death near seven p.m. on the night ofFebruary seventh of this year. Roger Ogren will call the two detectives whointerrogated her and searched her house-the first time, not just recently-toauthenticate the physical evidence and to testify that she lied to them aboutbeing linked romantically to Sam Dillon. There will be testimony linking thehair follicle, the fingernail,
