But until that moment came, Dopp dreaded his twelve-hour stretches in this vehicle, and it had been only two days. Two completely fruitless days. As much as he turned up the radio interceptor to full volume, listened and prayed, he was privy to nothing but blaring television programs, routine calls for food delivery, and updates on Arianna’s health, as friends called to ask how she was feeling.
Last night, Sunday, she had spoken to Trent for the first time all weekend. Their brief exchange came through the car’s speakers:
“Hi,” she had said.
“Hey!” came Trent’s eager voice. “I miss you. How are you feeling?”
“Not well. I’ve been sleeping for days. I don’t think I can see you tonight.”
“Oh.” Pause. “Okay. Well, I hope you feel better. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay. Thanks. Bye.”
That was all. So much for her “sister’s baby,” Dopp thought. If anything was true, it was that this woman’s existence was pathetic; she had hardly any visitors, unless the Chinese deliveryman counted. Neither Jed nor Banks had reported a single phone call during their overnight shifts. Arianna had slept or watched television the whole weekend, never once leaving her apartment—never going to church, despite the fervency she had once asserted to Trent. Simply another lie confirmed, Dopp thought. Not that he expected her to be religious, but he found it stunning that she would use something so sacrosanct as a pretext for her own misdeeds.
Nights he was spending at the Washington Square Hotel, a third-rate place that was desirable only because of its proximity to Arianna’s building. It was strange to have his own bed, especially one with uneven springs and a synthetic comforter that felt inadequate, like a one-armed hug. The sheets resembled wax paper, and as he tossed over them, he thought of Abby, Ethan, and Joanie, and of the child to come. What he was doing here was for them, he thought; everything always was, even if they hated him for it. And above all, it was for God. To rectify the damage he had done all those years ago, in whatever way possible. It seemed he could always be doing more, trying harder, praying longer. As Dopp drifted to sleep, he thought that if only he could see this mission through to the end, it might somehow, at last, be enough.…
Now, Monday morning, he was back on duty, putting in a third shift at the familiar curb; the car was parked along the last straight section before the sidewalk curved in and wound along the circular driveway to Arianna’s building. A hedge of thorny-looking bushes lined the curved sidewalks on either side of the building, forming a half circle of shrubbery. Dopp pulled the car forward just enough to peer around the bushes and keep his eye on the front door, about thirty feet away. At any moment, he knew she would be leaving for the clinic.
Dopp concentrated on the glass lobby door to distract himself from guilt over the severance notices he had sent out that morning. Of the three least important employees he let go, only one really hurt him, and that was Mark—his good old loyal driver. But how could Dopp justify keeping him on the payroll now?
The glass door opened and closed with frustrating regularity as residents left for work, briefcases in hand, overcoats buttoned to their chins. And then one man held the door open for several seconds, and a woman in a wheelchair passed through. Dopp recognized her mane of black hair, but her face had changed since that Christmas dinner. Protruding from a sallow sheath of skin were two eye sockets, cheekbones, a nose. It was the cast of her familiar bone structure, lacking tissue and color and warmth.
Dopp bolted upright, swinging his feet to the floor, his right foot hovering over the gas pedal. Arianna moved swiftly, hunched forward, with her chin tucked into a navy blue shawl, and her gaze fixed on the sidewalk. She wound along the sidewalk’s curve until she reached the street and made a right, turning her back to Dopp. He watched her chair pass under the Washington Square Arch and recede into the park, toward her clinic at the opposite end.
Once she was fully across and out of sight, Dopp drove around the perimeter of the park and stopped on a side street a block away from the clinic, knowing that the radio interceptor would cover a range of up to two hundred feet. Soon Arianna’s voice came crisply through the car’s speakers as she greeted patients in the waiting room, and then introduced herself to the new inspector that Dopp had assigned to take Banks’s position. Dopp reclined, pushing down the lever on the chair’s left side, trying to find a comfortable position for the next eight hours. The chair hummed just as he heard another vibration coming from the glove compartment.
It was his cell phone. His heart kicked.
No, he thought. Please, God, not now. Recently, Joanie had been complaining of cramps in her lower abdomen, but the doctor assured her it was only a false alarm. Dopp yanked open the glove compartment and seized his phone. But instead of his wife’s name, he saw a strange number blinking on the display, one with a 518 area code—Albany.
“Hello?”
“Dopp, it’s Windra.”
“Oh, hi,” he drawled with relief. “How are you?”
“Listen, I can’t talk long, but I wanted to tell you the news before it gets out. First, though, you got the warrant?”
“Yes, thanks to you. We’re on her 24/7. Shouldn’t take long now.”
“Good, because the lieutenant governor is going to be sworn in tomorrow morning, and then we’re getting right to the budget.”
“What? Already? What about Vance and the investigation?”
“That’s why I called. The results just came in. He’ll be resigning in a press conference later today.”
* * *
Trent rose from the chair in his office and closed the door. The only good thing about being confined to this place was the fact that Dopp wasn’t
