ate cake and ice cream with their patients. Bald boys and girls wore smiles bigger than their faces. They were sick kids yesterday and would be again tomorrow, but today they were just kids.
Andy heard cheers and spotted Zach Reeves perched atop a hospital bed being pushed down the corridor by a clown. He threw his arms into the air and screamed when his bed beat another kid's bed at the finish line.
Bed races.
Surveying it all was Andy's client. He walked over to Russell Reeves.
'Thanks for coming, Andy. Zach was looking for you.'
'Wouldn't miss it.'
'I told Zach he could have his birthday party anywhere he wanted it-Yankee stadium, Madison Square Garden, Disney World. Said he wanted it here, with his friends.'
'He's a good kid.'
And he was standing there. His face was painted like a zebra, and he was wearing a baseball cap on backwards.
'Andy, did you see the bed race? I won!'
'Awesome, dude.'
They fist-punched. Zach pulled the cap off his head.
'Look-my dad got it signed by the whole team.'
The whole New York Yankees team.
'That's way cool. Oh, here.'
Andy took his backpack off his shoulder and removed a small gift-wrapped box. The boy took it and ripped the paper off and opened the box. He pulled out Andy's gift: a black leather doo-rag.
'Aw, man, this is cool!'
'I didn't get anyone to sign it.'
Zach put on the doo-rag. Andy adjusted the fit.
'Happy birthday, Zach.'
'Thanks, Andy.'
The boy gave him a quick hug then rejoined the party.
'He likes you, Andy.'
'I like him.'
'I try to be a big brother, too, but it's not the same.'
'He looks good today.'
Russell nodded. 'Today. Chemo tomorrow.'
They didn't speak for several minutes. Andy watched Zach playing with the other sick kids, then he watched Russell watching Zach. He knew exactly what was going through his client's mind.
'We found her,' Andy finally said. 'Frankie Doyle.'
'Let's go upstairs.'
They walked to the elevators. Russell used a special key to access the penthouse. The place looked like a fancy hotel suite. Russell led Andy into an office. They sat across a table from each other. Andy removed the dossier and photos of Frankie Doyle and her daughter from his backpack and spread them across the table.
'She wasn't easy to find, Russell.'
'That why you went to this Lorenzo Escobar?'
'How'd you know?'
'I keep tabs, Andy.'
'Hollis goes by the book.'
'Doing whatever it takes to get the job done. I like that, Andy.'
Russell studied the dossier and photos under a small fluorescent desk lamp.
'She moved from Boston to Montana to New Mexico to West Texas. Changed her name every time. She now lives in Buda.'
Russell looked up. 'You went to Boston and Montana and found her fifteen miles from here?'
'Yeah.'
Russell returned to the photos.
'So what's her story?'
'Frankie Doyle is twenty-eight, divorced, one daughter. She's eight.'
'Finances?'
'None to speak of. She drives an old Toyota and lives in a rent house. Unemployed.'
'Problems?'
'Cigarettes and her ex-husband up in Boston. He hit her. She's running from him.'
Russell shook his head slowly.
'These poor women. They all have a burden to bear.'
'I met hers. Ex-boxer, owns a garage. He's a jerk.'
'What's wrong with the girl?'
'Nothing.'
Russell's eyes came up again.
'Her child's not sick?'
'No.'
'You're sure?'
Andy shrugged. 'Frankie said she was in perfect health.'
'You saw her? The girl?'
'Yeah. Cute redhead. She seemed fine.'
'See, Andy. Just odds.'
Russell went back to the photos.
'And she's eight years old?'
Andy nodded. 'And Frankie is twenty-eight. Which means, Russell, she couldn't have been your girlfriend.'
Russell didn't react. He didn't even look up from the photos.
'Why do you say that, Andy?'
'I did the math. You've been married fourteen years, so she was fourteen when you got married. And she got married four years later.'
Russell slowly raised his eyes from the photos.
'I never said she was my girlfriend before I was married… or that she wasn't married.'
Now Andy tried not to react.
'You were married… and she was too… when you and her…?'
'It's called an affair, Andy.'
'Russell, Kathryn is gorgeous.'
'Infidelity is a complicated thing.'
'I wouldn't know.'
'No one can know. The privilege, Andy.'
'That's why she denied it-she was a married woman having an affair.'
Russell again dropped his eyes to the photos of Frankie and her daughter. He examined them so intently that another thought crossed Andy's mind-a thought that made sense of a billionaire searching for seventeen former girlfriends.
'Is the girl yours?'
Russell Reeves looked up at Andy. His face was stern. Andy braced himself to get fired on the spot. Instead, his client sat back and blew out a resigned breath. As if it were finally time to come clean with his lawyer.
'Maybe.'
He stared into space, as if remembering.
'Frankie and I had an affair nine years ago when I taught a course at MIT one semester. Guest high-tech billionaire, that sort of thing. We met at the hotel bar. We were both married at the time.'
For some reason, Andy felt a little jealous at the thought of Russell Reeves having had an affair with Frankie
