“So,” she said, “after looking at these bank records, I think Jed Benson was killed because he was dirty.”
“You’re like a bullet headed straight for the target, you know that?” he said, smiling.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We just sat down. Can’t we talk about something other than the case for five minutes?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. What you do in your free time, or what your best subjects were in school, or when you had your first kiss?”
“This is not a date, you know.”
“Aw, come on. Humor me a little. What’s it gonna cost ya?”
Maybe more than either of us knows, she thought, looking into his eyes. The feeling of being with him, of how much he wanted to be with her, was so heady. She was too vulnerable right now, and he was too attractive. She had no idea where this was going, but something told her she should stop it.
“Why do you care when I had my first kiss?” she asked. She’d intended to shut him down, but all this talk about kissing was getting to her. She couldn’t help glancing at his mouth. Which was beautiful, of course, strong and sensual.
“I just want to know you better, that’s all,” he said. He reached for her left hand, taking it in his, and tracing a fingertip lightly across her empty ring finger. “Like, what’s up with this?”
She pulled her hand away and picked up her drink again, trying hard to ignore her racing pulse.
“I forgot to wear my rings this morning. So?” she said, looking down into her beer.
“Yeah? Look me in the eye and tell me that.”
She looked up. Caught in the tractor beam of his gaze, she couldn’t bring herself to lie. “Maybe it’s none of your business,” she said tentatively, setting the mug back down without drinking.
“Melanie, I’m your friend. At least I want to be. I get this feeling like you need one.”
She sighed, saying nothing.
“Believe me, I know where you’re coming from,” he continued. “I’m a pretty private person myself. I been through some shit of my own and not talked about it. It gets lonely. I don’t mean to push. It’s just…”
He trailed off. There was genuine concern in his eyes, and something else, too. Something like pain. She felt a powerful urge to confide in him, to tell him everything. Not just about her marriage either, but everything about her, from when she was a child. But she couldn’t let herself. She and Steve were going to work on things. Today he’d finally seemed ready to. She had Maya to think of. She’d decided all that already, hadn’t she?
Dan watched the struggle play out on her face. “It’s just…I don’t want you to be lonely when you don’t need to be. Something’s going on. Tell me, you’ll feel better.”
She felt like she was swimming upstream, and all she wanted was to give in and let the current sweep her away. She couldn’t help herself. She needed whatever it was Dan was offering her.
“My husband and I, we separated. But it’s only temporary. I mean, it may not be permanent.”
“Why? What happened?” he asked.
“Oh, the usual story. It used to be the secretary, right? But now it’s the-what do they call ’em-the executive assistant?”
“He cheated on you?” he asked incredulously.
She shrugged like it was obvious, but his surprise pleased her.
“What a fucking retard! He never deserved you in the first place. I’ll tell him so to his face. Hell, I’ll beat the shit out of him if you want me to.”
“No, that’s okay. Thanks, though. I think.” She laughed, shaking her head.
He leaned toward her across the tall table and reached for her hand again. Their fingers intertwined. Her heart began beating wildly. Her brain told her to pull away, but this time her hand didn’t obey.
“Hey,” he began, leaning even closer. “Can I tell you something?”
“What?” she asked breathlessly, afraid of what he might say. This was moving way too fast. She waited for his next words, but in the second of silence, her cell phone began shrieking inside her bag.
“Don’t answer it,” he said, but she took her hand from his and reached for her bag. By the time she found her phone, the ringing had stopped. She looked at the number-Steve’s cell phone.
“I totally forgot! I was supposed to meet my husband. Hold on,” she said, and checked her voice mail. Steve had called from a taxi on his way to the therapist’s office to give her the address. “I have to go,” she told Dan.
“Why?” He looked crestfallen. “Don’t. Not yet.”
“Like I said, the separation might not be permanent. We’re working on things. We have a counseling appointment.”
“All right,” he said, nodding stoically. “I understand. Let me drive you.”
“That’s not such a good idea,” she said firmly.
“Why? Where is it?”
“On the West Side, but that’s not the point. I can’t show up to my counseling session with some other guy driving me.”
“With Slice still out there, no way I’m letting you go by yourself.”
“No, really.”
“Really. I insist. I’ll drop you around the corner if it makes you feel better.”
“Dan, please.”
“Come on, we’re wasting time standing here arguing about it.”
SHE WASN’T SURE WHY SHE ENDED UP IN HIS car-whether it was because he wouldn’t let her say no or because she didn’t want to.
“Where to?” he asked.
“ West End and Eighty-fifth. She works out of her apartment, this woman.”
“Jesus, I can only imagine. Some ex-hippie in a caftan with long gray hair?”
She giggled. “Maybe, I don’t know. This is the first session.”
“I never believed in that counseling shit anyway. Either you make it on your own steam or you don’t.”
“Yeah? What do you know about marriage?”
“Oh, I know a thing or two, missy, and it ain’t pretty. But then, maybe I wasn’t married to the right person. Maybe you weren’t either. Aren’t, I mean.” In the light from an oncoming car, he wore an expression of grim determination.
“I had no idea you were married before,” she said.
“It’s not the first thing you mention when you meet someone.”
“So what happened?”
He stared at the road, not answering. The silence grew.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Now I’m prying.”
“No, no. I want to tell you. It’s hard for me, is all. Like I said, I never talked to anyone about it before.”
“You never talked to anyone about the breakup of your marriage? Not one single person?” she asked.
“No.”
“How long ago did you get divorced?”
“Lemme see. It’s four-no, almost five years now.”
“That’s a long time to keep it inside.”
He took his eyes off the road and looked at her. “I told you, I’m very private. I don’t just go around telling people stuff. But I want to tell you this, so you know me.”
“I understand,” she said, looking back at him, feeling something opening inside her heart. He seemed so alone. Like she felt sometimes.
“Simple story, really. I knew my wife-my ex-wife, that is-my whole life, from when we were kids. Everybody expected we would wind up together. She was the best-looking girl in the neighborhood, and I was…well”-he blushed in the darkness of the car-“I guess you could say I was a good ballplayer. So, long story short, we got married, young. Too young.”
“Yeah, so? A lot of people get married young and it works out okay.”
“Jeez, now I see why you get so much information out of witnesses. Gestapo tactics here.”
“Sorry. Take your time.”
“This is hard for me,” he repeated.
“I’m sorry.” She reached for his hand, resting on the steering wheel. She’d only intended to pat it reassuringly, but he gripped her hand hard, as if he needed her help to go on.