was why it would win in the end.
He couldn’t help thinking back on what happened the night he returned to New York unexpectedly to smooth over the necklace situation with Claire. When he opened his apartment door, it was as if he found yet another door. Whether he opened that door was now his choice. It was a choice he was terrified to make, though he knew that on a certain level he’d already made it. In something like this, there were really no surprises.
So, here he lay beside Claire, wondering if the baby he didn’t want would again begin to bawl, missing Dalia, missing the life he’d envisioned for himself. Trapped like so many poor fools. Resigned like most of them. Thinking the forbidden thoughts.
Suppose there’d been no necklace, and no Jubal Day or Arnold Wolfe on the passenger list of the late-night flight from Chicago. Suppose he’d flown to New York under an assumed name, using identification he could buy at half a dozen places in Times Square or the Village. Suppose he’d arranged for an alibi in Chicago with Dalia. She’d swear to anything for him, for the two of them to be together. Suppose he’d been in his apartment for what the police had first assumed.
Suppose…
One intolerable gray morning, when Claire unfolded the stroller and left the apartment to take the brat for a walk in the park before it started to rain, Jubal phoned Dalia.
The moment she heard his voice, she realized she’d been expecting his call, and knew what he was going to suggest.
