“Oh,” she said, a sound standing in for everything else.
“They’re listing it as an accident.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“No other car. She drove herself off.”
“Oh,” she said again, taking this in. “She did that?”
“It happens, with the survivors. It’s hard to come back.”
“And here I am, thinking about- You’re not surprised at this.”
“No. Neither was Lasner.”
“It’s terrible for them. To be the ones left. It doesn’t end-” she said, her voice private, interior.
He looked over at her. “He didn’t do that to you. That’s not what happened.”
“It feels the same. You can’t put it away somewhere. It’s in your head. Tonight I sat here, I thought, it’s just like before. So foolish-a roast chicken, something as foolish as that. Waiting, just like before. And I thought, it’s happening again. I’m waiting again.”
He went over to the couch, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrank from it, moving away.
“No. Don’t.”
She stood up and moved toward the French windows, clutching the sides of her arms, guarded.
“We can’t do this. What happened-all right, it happened. But to keep-” She turned. “You know what I was thinking about tonight? Maybe I’m still angry, that’s why. Like a child, hitting back. You can, I can, too, something like that, I don’t know.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Not for you. I don’t know what it is for you. Maybe something of his. Something crazy like that.”
“Why does it have to be anything?”
“Because he’s still in my head. How can you want me like that?”
“I don’t care.”
“Oh. And that makes it all right.” She shook her head, then moved toward the kitchen, a distraction. “Are you hungry?”
“No. I want to talk.”
“About this? There’s nothing to say. We have to stop. Before something happens.”
“Like what?”
“We went to bed. I don’t know why, maybe just to do it.”
“You enjoyed it.”
“Yes, all right. Do you want to hear that? I enjoyed it. But now it’s not so easy.”
Ben was quiet for a second, taking another sip of his drink, waiting for her, a look to get them over it.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“Leave. Where would you go?”
“The Cherokee. I still have the key.”
“Ha. To take women there. Then you can really be him. It’s what you wanted.”
“Not anymore.”
“No, why not?”
“He’s not who I thought he was.”
She looked at him, disconcerted, then turned back to the window, not wanting to pursue it.
“You can’t go to that place. It’s-what’s schaurig?”
“Ghoulish. Creepy.”
“Ghoulish.” She fingered the handle on the window, testing it. “Anyway, I’m afraid here now. The man never came. About the locks.”
“I know. You don’t have to worry. Turns out it was him. Or someone he sent.”
“What?”
“He wanted to look through Danny’s desk.”
“Like a thief? Why?”
“They used to work together. He wanted some information Danny didn’t get to pass on,” he said, his voice taut.
“I don’t understand. Worked how?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Know what?”
“You can stop waiting for him,” he said, cocking his head toward the couch. “He wasn’t who you thought he was, either.”
“What’s wrong?” she said, her hands fluttery, nervous. “What’s happened?”
“I had a drink. A real eye-opener. With Dennis Riordan. Mean anything to you?”
She shook her head.
“Ex-FBI. They worked together. Danny was keeping an eye on all of you for the Bureau.” He gulped down the rest of the drink, angry at the sound of his own voice.
“All of who?”
“The Germans. All of you. Your father, I suppose. I don’t have the exact list. I’d like to get it, see how far he went. What do you think he told them about Alma? Talk about suspicious characters.” He looked up at her. “You really had no idea?”
“What, that people watched us? Of course, all during the war. My father always said. We had to be careful on the phone. They listened. You had to expect that.”
“But not from your husband. But who better? He was practically a refugee himself. He’d know everyone in the German community-he married into it. Be the most natural thing in the world for him to know what everyone was up to. Just not so natural telling the FBI about it.”
“I don’t believe you. It’s a lie.”
“Riordan told me himself. Why would he lie? What for? Why would I?”
“A man who breaks into the house-you believe him?”
“They got together again later. After the Bureau. Riordan catches Reds for Minot and Danny helped him with that, too. A name here and there-I don’t know how many. But enough to keep Riordan interested. Partners in crime.”
“It’s not true.”
“But he thinks there must be one more name. Somebody Danny didn’t get to tell him about. Whoever killed him. So he had the desk searched. A little clumsy, but he wanted to know. He sends apologies if it frightened you.”
“No, you,” she said, suddenly white, her face drained. “You frighten me.”
“Me?”
“You’ll say anything now, to make me hate him. Any lie. Daniel wouldn’t do that.”
“Yes, he would. He just wouldn’t tell you about it. Like a lot of things.”
She glared at him. “That makes it easier for you? If he was like that. Then it doesn’t matter what we do?” She went over to him, putting her fists on his chest. “Stop it.”
“You think I’d make all this up to go to bed with you? I didn’t have to, remember? I didn’t have to force you, either.”
He took her hands, holding them, close enough to feel her breathing, until she pulled them away. She looked at him, then slumped onto the couch, half-sitting on the back.
“No, you didn’t,” she said quietly. “So it’s another thing I’ve done in my life.”
He touched the side of her face, tentative, waiting for her to turn away, but she leaned into it, letting him work down to her neck.
“I’ll never force you to do anything,” he said.
“No?” she said, staring at the carpet.
“No.”
“No,” she said wearily. “That wouldn’t be-seemly.” She looked up at him. “The good brother. But not always.”
