Sam felt himself panicking. “So what does that mean?”
“What do you mean?”
Sam shook his head. “He’s not going to flee with us, right?”
“No, I don’t see why he would. Dopp isn’t after him, and I’m pretty sure he wants to keep it that way.”
“Fine.”
“Look, I know you don’t like him, but—”
“No kidding,” Sam muttered.
“But try to think of it from his point of view,” she said. “He took risks to protect both of us. The lab is still safe, isn’t it?”
“So you’ve forgiven him, then?”
“Enough to cooperate.”
Sam scowled. He could still hear laughter flowing in muted bursts from her bedroom.
“I know you’re a hard sell,” she said softly. “And I understand, especially when it comes to the DEP. But I need to get going now.”
“Where are you going?”
“To his apartment for my piano lesson. I think it’s the only place and time that we’ll be able to talk privately.”
“Why?”
Her lips spread into a mischievous smile. “Because of the music.”
* * *
Trent and Molly were both waiting at his apartment when Arianna arrived. The sight of her, after four days of separation, was both heartening and alarming; she had returned, but when had her illness become so obvious? Was it possible that in the short time they were apart, her face had thinned—or had Trent not noticed before? Either way, he tried not to reveal his dismay as he let her in. Unsure how to greet her, unsure in fact why she had even come, he ventured to lean down and kiss her on the cheek. She didn’t turn her lips to him, but she also didn’t stiffen against his touch.
“How are you, dear?” Molly asked, standing behind Trent. “I’m glad you decided to come tonight.”
“Me, too. Even though these things are pretty useless.” She lifted her hands. “But I still want to try.”
“As you should,” Trent encouraged.
She wheeled past both of them to the keyboard. He followed, and moved the bench out of her way. “There you go,” he said, gesturing to the empty space. “Park and play.”
She nodded with a small smile and pulled herself up to the keyboard. Before he walked away, he leaned his head close to hers and whispered, “What’s up?”
Wait, she mouthed.
Confused and intrigued, he walked across the room to the couch and sat down. A slab of plastic bounced in the pocket of his sweatshirt, but he had to gauge the right moment before taking it out. For now, he would have to wait. Molly sat on the bench near Arianna and instructed her to warm up with a scale. As the notes rang out, Trent thought of Dopp, and wondered where he was parked. Dopp had called him at work earlier in the day to check up on the office, and to confirm that he had correctly overheard Arianna say she would be coming tonight. Dopp’s words were clipped, his tone urgent. It was obvious that his confidence had vanished, and Trent did not have to ask why.
Everyone was talking about the governor’s ignoble fall, and the state’s pressing business that would finally be dealt with. But while the newspaper editorials were heralding Albany’s emergence from inertia, Trent’s coworkers were sweating. Dopp had laid off four people in the last three days. More cuts were sure to follow. But Trent was detached from the office’s collective anxiety; all it meant to him was that Dopp was growing progressively intent on finding a reason to arrest her. She had to know it, too. Trent yearned to ask her about Friday night’s scheduled transfer and its logistics, and to implore her to be cautious. It seemed cruel for her to be so near, like an ocean taunting a parched sailor.
Trent listened to her stumble over Bach’s “Minuet in G.” The tempo was painfully slow, and the notes jerked together as if they were bumping over a dirt road, staccato and uneven.
And then in the middle of a phrase, the notes stopped. Trent heard her sigh. She leaned her elbows on the keyboard, creating a dissonant splash of sound. Molly put a hand on her back and said nothing.
Arianna turned to her. “I’m sorry to waste your time. I just can’t do it anymore.”
“Don’t apologize. You’ve made a valiant effort.”
“Thank you. That means a lot.”
Molly smiled sadly and rubbed her back.
“I hate to leave things on such a depressing note,” Arianna said, pausing. Then: “Maybe you could play something for us?”
Molly’s smile brightened. “Well, I haven’t given a concert in years, but I suppose I could try. What would you like to hear?”
“Something inspiring.”
Molly nodded. “Let me see. Come to think of it, there’s a piece that reminds me of you.”
“Really? How so?”
Molly made a gesture with her fist. “It’s got a real oomph at first, an intensity, but then it turns out to be very gentle and beautiful.”
Arianna looked pleasantly taken aback. “Well, thank you, I can’t wait to hear it.”
“I played this with the New York Philharmonic a long time ago. Let’s see how much my fingers remember.”
“Great,” Arianna said. She casually let her black pocketbook slide to the floor next to the keyboard. “I’ll get out of your way.” She turned in her chair and grinned at Trent.
He shook his head with an amused smile. When she reached him, he helped her out of her chair onto the couch and whispered: “You are one smooth woman.”
A powerful chord boomed, followed by rapidly descending triplets. Trent recognized it right away; it was the Grieg Piano Concerto.
“I hope Dopp enjoys the concert as much as we will,” Arianna whispered back. Trent snickered softly, and she smiled, putting a finger to her lips. Being so close to her again elated him, and he barely hesitated before pulling her into his arms.
She resisted slightly. “I’m not fully over it,” she whispered, but Trent could tell she was well on her way. “You still lied to me.”
“And I’m not even that sorry,” he whispered back. “Or else you wouldn’t be here.”
“I get that,” she said. “And that’s why I am
