Was he really going to tell her?
He shivered as she pulled herself out of the chair, using his hands for leverage.
“Put my feet on yours,” she instructed, wrapping her arms around his neck.
He obeyed, feeling surreal as he hoisted her up and onto his beat-up sneakers. The weight of her body rested on his feet, and their bodies were completely aligned—knee-to-knee, waist-to-waist, face-to-face.
“What song are we dancing to?” he asked over her shoulder.
“I don’t know. But if we can just make it over to the stereo, I’ll put something on.” She nudged him backwards, laughing as they took an awkward joint step. “Hold on to me!”
“Don’t worry,” he said, clutching her tighter around the waist, trying to ignore her breasts pushed into his chest.
Life is so short, he thought. Too short to carry such secrets. Then, with a sinking feeling, he pictured the lab. In a week, they would no doubt decide to shut it down as a safety precaution. Without the ability to research, what was left for him to love, except for her?
But he knew how ridiculous he would feel blurting out his feelings, let alone if he ever worked up the nerve to do so. His lack of practice expressing himself did not help. It seemed there was only one way to get the words out, and to make them sound right. In his head, a letter began.
* * *
It was not until lunch, when Trent was safely away from work and headed to a fast food place two blocks away, that he finally called Arianna back. How he passed the remainder of the morning was a mystery, even to him, but he knew better than to risk calling her when Dopp could charge into his office at any moment.
She picked up and yelped his name.
“What happened?” he asked. “Sorry, I was working and didn’t see my phone.”
“Sam did it! He made the breakthrough!”
“Oh my God! Are you serious? What does this mean?”
“In one week, we’re going to transfer new cells into my spinal cord that will hopefully save my life.” She paused, and a man said something in the background. “They will, according to Sam.” Her voice sounded euphoric, astonished.
“Oh my God. I could kiss that man. He’s a fucking genius!” Trent leaped into the air and landed two yards away, almost bumping into a passerby on the sidewalk. The man shot him an angry glance. Trent laughed as his throat constricted. “Is this real?”
“It’s real. I know. I still can’t believe it. I don’t know what to do with myself! We just broke out the champagne. You should come over and celebrate with us!”
“Tonight?” An image of Dopp’s face intruded on his joy. “I—I can’t. I wish I could.” He stopped short on the sidewalk, oblivious of the frustrated people who wove around him. Tonight, he remembered, Get the truth or face consequences.
“Why, what’s wrong?” Arianna asked. “I want to see you!”
“I would love to see you, too. I don’t want to risk it, though. I’m not feeling too well. My stomach is a little upset.…”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. But then you shouldn’t come over. My immune system…”
“I know. Tomorrow, hopefully.”
“Yes, feel better!”
“Thanks. Are you going to party later?”
She laughed. “Even better. I’m going back to the clinic tonight so Dr. Ericson can draw some skin cells to give to Sam.”
“You have to wait for the inspector to leave first?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, good luck, baby. Give Sam a giant hug from me, and I don’t care if he squirms!”
Arianna chuckled as they said good-bye.
But the queasiness in his stomach that Trent spoke of was no lie. There was no way he could get her voice on record admitting to the major revelation that Dopp wanted. And there was no way he could face her tonight with appropriately rampant elation. As deeply relieved as he was, fear gnawed at him, muddying his clarity of thought.
She needed only seven more days. Once the transfer was over, she wouldn’t need the lab or the clinic for her own personal use; the danger of catching her in action would be over. With his hands in his pockets, Trent kicked a street pole in front of him. His prudence had carried Arianna through the past several weeks, but it was not enough. How could he contain Dopp for one final week? It depended on his contingency plan, which Trent might not discover until it was implemented—until perhaps it was too late.
He cut his lunch break short, reluctantly returning to work, unable to think of food. What would he tell Dopp later? His mind swirled around the question throughout the rest of the day, unable to devise an answer.
Before he left work four hours later, Dopp instructed him to go to Washington Square and plant himself in a discreet spot to watch the clinic, in case she returned that evening. He was to switch shifts with Banks, who was leaving at five o’clock.
“We can’t take any chances on missing her,” Dopp said. “Just in case she might go back for some reason, since she’s obviously sneaking around.”
“Of course.”
“Has she still not called you back from this morning?”
“No.”
“That’s not good. Remember, Trent, I’m counting on you tonight.”
* * *
At 4:45 P.M., Trent arrived at the park to greet Banks as he left—ostensibly obliging Dopp’s orders. The park was too sparse for Trent to wait discreetly on a bench, so he stood in the recessed doorway of the Catholic Center, one block west of the clinic. From there, shrouded by the arched overhang of the doorway, he could still see the clinic’s brown door open and close. Soon, Banks walked out of the clinic with a man and a woman who Trent assumed were the Ericsons, the remaining members of Arianna and Sam’s group. Trent watched the couple part ways with Banks, and as soon as they were out of earshot, he called out to the inspector.
Banks walked the one block over, shaking his head. “I wasted another whole day here. No sign of her.”
“Let’s pray
