45
Paulina Cole sat at her desk rifling through the transcription of an interview with a Republican senator she had just spoken to that afternoon. She didn't particularly like the man- primarily because she knew a great deal more about his predilection toward Guatemalan housemaids than did the voters-but he was a shoo-in for reelection and Ted Allen's instructions were to paint him in the most positive light. That
Ted had contributed close to six figures toward his reelection campaign was not to be mentioned. Paulina had already picked out six good sound bites, thankfully all taken within some sort of context, and was in the midst of outlining tomorrow's front-page story.
She was writing longhand when a sweaty, haggard James
Keach appeared in her doorway. Keach staggered in, dropped into a seat across from her desk, his breathing hard, eyes frightened. It was the first time James had taken a seat without her express permission. Usually he stood by the doorway taking instructions. He didn't even think twice about plopping down, and it unnerved Paulina.
'Jesus, James, what happened to you?' she said, allowing a hint of concern to creep into her voice.
James looked up, as though startled to realize he was sitting in Paulina's office. He looked around, then locked eyes with her and leaned forward. James looked like he'd just witnessed something unspeakable, and would give anything to take it all back.
'I was trailing Henry Parker,' James said. 'And…oh
God…'
'Spit it out.'
James Keach's body began to convulse with sobs. She felt panic well up, but the flavor of excitement, as well. Wherever there was fear was also a great story.
'Mya Loverne,' James said. 'I was following Henry and…'
For the next five minutes, James told her what he'd seen that night. The man atop the building. Mya's body hitting the ground. Henry Parker screaming, crying. The ambulances, the broken girl being sped away to the hospital.
The killer on the rooftop, grinning like the devil himself.
When James was finished, Paulina sat in silence. She recalled her conversation with Mya at the diner; the small, frail girl looking like she was one tap away from shattering.
Mya Loverne. Was it possible…
Paulina cleared her throat, blew her nose into a handkerchief. She picked up the phone and dialed the Metro desk.
'Fred, Paulina Cole here. Call Ted Allen. Tell him Senator
Brisbane is being pushed back to page seven. We have a new page-one story tomorrow.'
She hung up. Looked at James.
'Did they say Mya is going to make it?' she asked. James shook his head.
'I couldn't get into the hospital, and nobody would speak on her condition. But it looked pretty bad.'
Paulina closed her eyes, dismissed James with a wave of her hand. When he left, she sat back, folded her hands behind her head. Then with a snap she sat forward, pushing the sympathy from her mind. Then she turned on her computer, and began to type.
46
There is no place whose atmosphere gives off such a potent mixture of calm and anxiety as a hospital room. The beeps come at such even intervals that if you forget their purpose for a moment, they could easily lull you to sleep. Then you remember what they represent and that knot swells up in your stomach, you look at the prone figure being monitored by machines, and you feel like you might never sleep again.
Watching Mya breathe through a tube, that's how I felt.
Chairs in hospital rooms weren't any better. They were all metal and odd contours. As if the hospital didn't want you relaxing on the job.
I was alone in the room with Mya. Her mother, Cindy
Loverne, was asked to leave by hospital staff. She arrived shortly after Mya and broke down immediately. Screaming.
Crying. Asking how God could allow her husband and daughter to possibly be taken in the same week. She asked if
God was testing her strength as a woman, as a person. It wasn't God who had done this to her family.
Cindy had hugged me. I hadn't seen her in almost a year and a half, the last time being in a different hospital room.
Again, watching Mya breathe. It was hard not to apologize Jason Pinter to Cindy Loverne; meeting me was the worst thing that ever happened to Mya.
The last time Mya was in the hospital she left with a barely visible scar. But I always knew it was there, might as well have been a bloodred tattoo.
If Mya survived this-the doctors had given her a thirty percent chance of doing so-she wouldn't be so lucky this time.
Mya had suffered multiple skull fractures and a shattered hip. It took three hours of surgery to reduce the swelling in her brain, to fuse her bones back together. And that was the good news. The doctors said thankfully she'd landed on her side. That might have saved her life. If she'd landed on her back or head, she would either be paralyzed or dead. At least now she had a fighting chance. And I knew Mya was a fighter. I knew it.
'Hey. Henry.'
I turned around. Curt Sheffield was standing in the doorway. He was dressed in full uniform. The blue clashed against the white walls. I noticed the gun on his belt, holstered, safe.
For a moment I thought about grabbing it, marching into the street and stalking around the city until that bastard Roberts showed his face. And then I would show him the same mercy he showed everyone else. None.
Curt gestured for me to join him outside. I nodded, stood up. Watched Mya's chest rise and fall.
I went into the hallway, followed Curt toward a small waiting area. We both took seats.
'How is she?' he asked.
'She's got a battle ahead of her.'
'She looks like the kind of girl who's fought a lot of battles recently.' I nodded, knew many of them were my fault.
'She's tough,' I said. 'Her hip will be fine. It's her head they're concerned about. They won't know how much damage there is until the swelling comes down.'
'Jesus,' Curt said, shaking his head. 'Thing like this, kind of makes you want to become an atheist.'
'Actually I've never prayed more in my life. But I'm pretty sure God is considering revoking my baptism right now.'
'You know this isn't your fault, right?' Curt watched me, waited for a response. I didn't answer him. I couldn't.
Because it wouldn't be the answer he was hoping for. 'Henry, you know that, right?'
'Amanda,' I said. 'Have you…'
'She's staying with a co-worker tonight. You know she's worried sick about you, man,' Curt said. 'Amanda's a hell of a catch. It hurt her to see Mya like that. She just doesn't want it to break you.'
'It won't break me,' I said. 'But it might have broken us.'
'Do you love her?' he asked. I said nothing. 'I said do you love her?'
'Yes,' I said. 'I do.'
'Then don't do this. You're a selfish prick you don't at least call. You think you're the only one hurting?'
'I can't see Amanda ending up like that,' I said, pointing toward Mya's room. 'That girl is in there because of
