holds barred. I’ll tell you the whole story, warts and all. And trust me, Jack, it’s a hell of a story.” I clenched Amanda’s arm, feeling the warmth of her skin. She put her hand on mine, gave it a light squeeze. I waited as O’Donnell considered. Finally, he spoke.
“Call me back in an hour,” Jack said.
“Done.” I paused. “Hey, Jack?”
“Yeah, Henry?”
“I need to know…not because I really believe it, but…I don’t know anything anymore. I need to know…did you know about this? Did you know about Luis Guzman? Did you purposefully send me to him?”
“Are you asking me if I set you up?”
“Yes. That’s what I’m asking.”
“Absolutely not,” he said. “So you’ll call me back in one hour.”
“Sure, Jack.”
“And, Henry?”
“What?”
“Don’t get killed before then.”
I hung up the phone. My hands were shaking.
“What’s wrong?” Amanda asked.
“Jack. We need him to come through.” Then I looked at her. “But I don’t believe him.”
34
We sat down in a coffee shop on the corner of 104th and Amsterdam. The hour couldn’t pass fast enough. The diner was empty, save a hefty black chef and an older couple who looked like they’d spent the last twenty years sitting motionless in the same booth.
We hid ourselves behind two oversized menus. I ordered a bagel with cream cheese and a cup of coffee and Amanda did the same. We tore into the food when it arrived and quickly raised our cups for refills. The caffeine was all I could hope for to keep me awake, keep my nerves sharp.
“So if you don’t believe him,” she said, “how do you know Jack isn’t going right to the cops?”
“Because if he’s involved in this, he needs to find out what I know. He wouldn’t want anyone digging any deeper.”
“Jesus, you think…” she said, her body going rigid “…you think he might have something to do with that man at my house?”
That hadn’t crossed my mind.
“It’s possible.” Amanda took a long drink of water.
“So what do you think Jack’s going to find out from those names?” Amanda asked, chewing her bagel, brushing crumbs from her lap.
“I really don’t know. Maybe nothing. Maybe those people were all related to Larkin somehow, like his third cousins, and he just decided to give them a break on rent.”
“You really think that’s what happened?”
I shook my head.
“No. I don’t.” I took another bite and kept chewing until I felt Amanda’s eyes burning a hole through me. “You okay?”
“No, Henry, I’m not.”
“What’s the matter?”
She paused, cocked an eyebrow. “Honestly?”
“Yeah. Honestly.” I felt a hole gnawing in my stomach. All I wanted to do was reach out, comfort her.
“I’m scared, Henry.”
“I am, too.”
“No,” she said, her eyes vigorous. “Not like I am. You know why I want to work in child advocacy? Because growing up I was sick of nobody standing up for me. I spent every day hoping someone would give me a better life, and now I’m at the point where I really feel I can help people who need it. But here you are, trying to help yourself, me trying to help you, and not only am I scared that something terrible’s going to happen, but no matter what, I can’t control it. I can’t help anything.”
The cold hole in my stomach spilled open, the guilt pouring out. My hand went to Amanda’s cheek. The warmth in her face made me shiver. I gently stroked her smooth skin and watched her eyes close. She closed her eyes, nuzzled her cheek into my palm.
“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you,” I said, making no effort to fight my trembling voice. My eyes watered up. I didn’t care. “Without you I’d either be dead or in jail. I’m going to fight this until I can’t fight anymore, and it’s only because of you I can do that. You didn’t leave when you could have. I’d like to think I would have done the same for you, but truthfully I don’t know. Saying thank-you doesn’t even begin to say a thing. But thank you, Amanda.”
Amanda’s laughter was intermittent with sobs. She wiped her face with a napkin and took a sip of water.
“When this is over,” she said, “then we can be thankful.”
I said, “We’ll have a weeklong celebration, just for you. I’ll call it ‘Daviesfest.’ We’ll get all the big bands, have an outdoor concert, fire up the grill and invite some grungy roadies. It’ll be a ball.”
“Can we get Phish? I’ve never seen them live.”
“I think they broke up, but hell. Sure. We’ll get Phish.” She smiled.
“That sounds really nice. Promise me it’ll happen, Henry.” I hesitated, trying to muster up those two words. She saw my mouth open and close, seemed to know what I was thinking. “Better yet, don’t promise me now. Promise later.” I nodded.
Then from the corner of my eye, I noticed the elderly couple shifting in their seats. I tried to stay calm, but something about their demeanor bothered me.
When we came in, they were sitting silently, sipping teas, comfortable as a girl wearing her boyfriend’s sweatshirt. Now they seemed nervous, eyes twitching back and forth. They were huddled together, mumbling. Then the man caught my eye, held it for a second, and that’s when I saw it. A split second of fear flashed across his face, then it was gone.
He stood up, leaned over to his companion, and they got up and left the diner.
The counterman shouted, “Later, Frank, Ethel. Good night, you two crazy kids!”
They didn’t return the sentiment.
I grabbed Amanda’s arm and said, “We have to go.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“I think they recognized me.”
“You’re kidding.” She bolted from her chair as I shook my head.
“Come on.”
We left the coffee shop and started walking west. Then uptown. Then east. Then downtown. We must have walked thirty blocks without saying a word. With every step my leg felt like someone was lashing it with a whip. Finally I checked my watch. An hour and a half had passed since I’d spoken to Jack O’Donnell.
We found another pay phone and I rang the Gazette. Once again, Jack picked up on the first ring.
“O’Donnell.”
“Jack, it’s Henry.”
“Christ almighty. The hell’ve you been, Parker?”
“Sorry, I’m not really in charge of my schedule right now.”
“Whatever. Anyway, I’ve got some information on your mystery people.”
“And?”
“And before I say a word, I want to know where you got these names.”
“No way, Jack. The deal is you give me the info and I talk later. Otherwise I’m at the Dispatch and I’ll spill
