“You didn’t intend what?”
“I didn’t—”
“You didn’t what?”
“Let me talk! Okay? You never let me talk. Will you let me talk?”
Rain drummed steadily on the roof. The building was well insulated and soundproofed, and I tried to remember if I’d ever heard police sirens from in here.
“Well? Talk!”
“Don’t rush me,” Jeffrey said.
Nolan pulled his chair closer to Jeffrey’s. “Let me explain something. You and Will and I are in the deepest of shit. Do you understand? You robbed a convenience store and kidnapped the clerk, and unless we figure something out fast, the three of us are going to pay for it. The police are probably on their way already. They might be here in ten minutes. They might ransack Will’s house first and buy us an hour or two. Either way, there’s, you know, a good reason to hurry things along.”
The thought of Cynthia returning from Philadelphia to find our house ransacked made me sadder, in a way, than the thought of her returning to find me in custody.
“She looks cold,” Jeffrey said. She was sitting on the rug, arms around knees, head down. Shivering, maybe crying.
“I’ll be right back,” I said.
“Where are you going?” Nolan said.
I ignored him and went into the main recording room and turned up the thermostat. Then I knelt in front of the bass drum and pulled out the blanket that I kept in there to dampen the drumhead. The blanket was stiff and musty.
“Back up a little bit, okay?” I called through the thick door.
She scooted backward. Her hair was dripping.
I unlocked the door and opened it just enough to hand her the blanket. She took it and immediately wrapped it around herself.
“So can I please call you by a name?” I asked, and she looked at me. But I didn’t know what else to say. I wondered who she was, this girl of the Milk-n-Bread. Did she work there to save money for college? To help support her family? Did she have a boyfriend? What were her ambitions?
I wanted her to understand that this was all a mistake. But I couldn’t think of a way to explain, and there was no time. I started to close the door.
“Wait!” she said. The door remained a few inches open. “This is scary, you know?”
“I know it is.”
“The police are probably already on their way.”
“It’s possible.”
“You really didn’t know this was going to happen?”
“Scout’s honor.”
“That guy’s your friend?”
I nodded. “He’s all right, once you get to know him.”
Her shivering had subsided a little. “Marie. That’s my name.”
I knew it was my turn, and lying seemed pointless. “I’m Will.”
“Is that your real name?”
“Yes. Is Marie yours?”
Her answer was a sneeze. For the first time, I really looked at her. The freckles at the base of her nose said tomboy, and yet she had smooth, feminine skin, the look of someone who could make herself glamorous if she wanted to. I’d been wrong about seeing her before in the Milk-n-Bread. That wasn’t why she looked familiar.
“My nana is sick,” she said. “She doesn’t have anyone else. It’s just me and her. My shift ends at eight o’clock, and I’m supposed to go home after.”
Of course she had a grandmother depending on her. “We’re going to do everything we can to get you home on time. I promise.”
“Will?” she said.
“What is it?”
“Please don’t let anyone … hurt me.”
I looked away and saw the nicked-up wooden floor. The rotted ceiling tiles. Microphone stands and cables lining the wall. One of Joey’s posters of Pamela Anderson, circa 1995, for the musicians to ogle.
This was Joey’s studio, but it was my turf. Jeffrey might have grabbed the girl, and Nolan might have ordered me to drive. But I had taken us here. I was responsible, and she seemed to know it, and she was letting me know that she knew it.
What if I told her to leave right then, just run as fast as she could out into the street? Would anybody stop her? And why wasn’t I giving her that chance?
Optimism is a strange word, given the situation, but I believe that’s what kept me from letting her go right then, before everything else that happened happened. I was as frightened as I’d ever been, yet alongside my fear was a trace of optimism, because I knew what this girl didn’t: We meant her no harm. Together, Nolan, Jeffrey, and I would solve the problem, fix the damage that’d been done. All we needed was a little time.
“Nobody’s going to hurt you,” I said. “We’re going to get you home really soon. In the meantime, try to warm up.” I clicked the door shut.
When I returned to the control room, Jeffrey and Nolan were looking at me too expectantly. I didn’t like being looked to for answers. All I’d done was produce a lousy blanket. Yet I’d also made a discovery.
“It’s because she looks like Sara, isn’t it?” I asked Jeffrey.