It would never work. For one, Jeffrey now seemed convinced that we all shared responsibility for what’d happened. He was being very egalitarian that way. But also, I knew I couldn’t scam my friend—even Jeffrey, even now, even if it meant saving myself. I had neither the talent nor the constitution for subterfuge.
Nolan looked at his watch. “Fuck, it’s getting late. I should’ve called Ronnie before we busted the goddamn phones.” Ronnie was his campaign manager. “I know it’s bad timing, but if I don’t check in with him and he can’t reach me on my cell, he’s going to panic. And trust me—we don’t want Ronnie panicking.
“You’re probably better off calling from a pay phone anyway.” I told him there was a phone at the gas station two blocks away. “But can I call Cynthia first? She goes to bed early when she’s at her sister’s.”
This was completely illogical of me. Time was precious. But I had a sense it might be the last time I spoke to her as a free man.
He nodded. “Try to make it quick, though.”
I told him I would. Then I hesitated. “Do you think it’s at all strange that the robbery hasn’t been on the radio? When I was in the car, I kept listening for it.”
He thought for a moment. “I think every single thing about this fucking situation is strange.”
I went into one of the stalls and came out with a roll of toilet paper. “Do me a favor.” I tossed him the roll. “Take this in to Jeffrey. And try not to kill anyone while I’m gone.”
11
I had change on me, but not enough. The gas station attendant changed a five-dollar bill for me. (Sure, I remember the guy, I pictured him saying to the police. Gave him twenty quarters.) The phone was attached to the station that only partially blocked the wind that’d kicked up. I called Cynthia’s cell, and when the electronic voice told me how much money to deposit, I began to feed the telephone with quarters.
Since our niece regularly woke up at dawn, spending the next fourteen hours wearing everybody out, Cynthia went to bed early when she stayed there. She could already be asleep. And even if she were awake, she might let my call go through to her voicemail, not recognizing the number.
Then I heard that single word—“Hello?”—and my chest tightened. A giant chasm opened up between what I knew and what she didn’t, and I had to force myself not to confess everything.
“It’s me,” I said. Deep breath, I told myself. Take a deep breath, and lie to your wife. “My cell isn’t working for some reason. How’re you doing?”
“I’m good,” she said. “Tired.”
“Me too. We went to Antonello’s for dinner.”
“Did you have a good time?”
Just a few hours earlier I was ready to announce, You and I are officially in the record business.
“Sure,” I said. “It was okay.”
“Did you have a lot to drink?”
“Not too much. Why?”
“You sound funny.”
“I am funny.”
She didn’t laugh, but I knew she was smiling. “Oh, so get this,” she said. “Anne was riding her tricycle around the driveway, and I was drawing a road for her with colored chalk …”
I listened, but less to the story itself than to her voice. The lightness of it.
She didn’t talk for long. Didn’t want to keep me on the phone. “Thanks for checking in,” she said, “but you should get back to your friends.”
I told her good night.
“Have a good time,” she said. “Enjoy golf tomorrow.”
I said I would.
“Good night, Will,” she said.
“Wait.”
“What is it?”
I needed to get off the phone. Return to the studio. Nolan was waiting.
“Tell me something first,” I said. “Before you hang up.”
“Tell you what?”
Anything, I wanted to say. Tell me anything. Instead, I asked her about the traffic on the Jersey Turnpike. If it was heavy.
I returned to the control room and told Nolan where to find the telephone. I handed him the rest of my quarters and my building key so he could let himself back in.
“Where’s Jeffrey?” I asked.
“Bathroom. Trying to fix his face.”
After Nolan left, I sat down and waited. Marie was turned away from me, facing the rear of Room A. I felt a strong curiosity about her, and a desire for her to like me, and I wondered if this was true of all kidnappers.
At least a full minute passed before it dawned on me. There she sat, not thirty feet away. It would be easy. I could have her out and into the cool night air in half a minute. Nothing was stopping me. Except for me.