“They don’t know what happened?”
“I’m not sure what Sara might have said. We’re not on the best terms right now.”
I told him I was sorry to hear that. “You two always stuck together no matter what.”
“Yeah, well. It’s pretty grim this time.”
“Did she tell you who the other guy was?”
“No. I assume it’s probably somebody from her work.” Sara worked as an editor at a small literary press that published very good writers that nobody ever heard of.
“I guess the other guy isn’t really the point,” I said.
“Will, let me tell you something—when your wife sleeps with another guy, the other guy is always the point.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so we watched Room A for a while in silence. Nolan was sitting on the floor across from Marie. They were engaged in conversation. Marie nodded slightly at something Nolan said. An encouraging sign, I hoped.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” Jeffrey said after a while, “dragging you into this.”
“I know you are,” I said. “But if this”—I nodded toward Room A—“doesn’t work, we’ll need to let her go.”
It wouldn’t be so hard. Just say a silent prayer of apology and hope and then reunite her with the world beyond this recording studio. Tell her to walk two blocks to the gas station at the corner. She could call a cab or the police or whomever she wanted. And I would call Cynthia and begin to prepare her.
Right now my wife was probably helping to give our niece, Anne, a bath, or reading her a bedtime story. Anne was three years old and loved giraffes.
“My niece really likes giraffes,” I told Jeffrey.
“Hmm?”
I shook my head. “Cynthia has no idea about any of this. It feels strange, knowing before she does that her life is about to change.”
“I wish we could hear what’s going on in there,” Jeffrey said, nodding toward Room A.
“I’m sure he’s doing the best he can.”
“I’m sure he is, too,” he said. “But best for whom?”
I looked at Jeffrey. “What do you mean by that?”
He raised his eyebrows, as if I were being intentionally obtuse. “Come on, Will. The man’s a snake.”
“Nolan? No, he isn’t,” I said. “Why would you say something like that?”
“Of course he is. Everyone knows that. I know he’s your friend, but you don’t actually think you can trust him, do you?”
I was stunned. I wanted to remind him of exactly who had done the kidnapping and who was busy right now trying to set things right. But before I could say anything, Nolan stood up in Room A and let himself out. He shut the door behind him and locked it.
Overhead, the rain on the roof sounded like the rotors of a dozen helicopters. I imagined the inevitable convergence on our windowless hideout: the SWAT teams, the police cars, the fire engines, the ambulances. The television news. But there were others out there, too, looking on, speechless in their horror and disappointment: my mother and father. My dead grandparents. Teachers who’d put their best hopes in me. The small, squinty kid in my third-grade class I’d given my windbreaker to one day because he told me he was cold. A peppermint-scented girl named Veronica, who, the summer I turned thirteen, called me a gentleman and kissed me on the boardwalk in Point Pleasant. I had led her through the funhouse and promised not to scare her. And I hadn’t.
The ambush was inevitable. The only surprise was that it hadn’t happened yet.
I looked at my watch: 8:10 already.
I tried to read Nolan’s expression as he walked slowly back to the control room.
Walk faster, I thought. Walk faster.
7
“We’ve got one ethical girl in there,” Nolan said, back in the control room. “Good kid. Wish I had her campaigning for me door-to-door.” He sat down. “I offer her a thousand dollars, and she says, ‘Taking a bribe would be wrong.’ I finally convinced her at least to think it over.” He shook his head. “I even told her to let me know if a thousand isn’t enough. But do you know what the real problem is here, Will? Failure of imagination.”
“Whose?” I asked. “Hers or ours?”
“Hers! She can’t imagine living her life with a secret like this. It’s too big. All she can imagine doing is running straight to her grandmother and then both of them running straight to the police.”
“You can’t blame her,” I said. “She’s terrified right now.”
“Maybe I could try talking to her,” Jeffrey said.