“It’s because you’re looking for a way to forgive her.”
Walt blinked as if a piece of debris had flown into his face. “Am I?”
“Of course you are,” Avery said with conviction. “You just told me you had unfinished business here in New York. Forgiving her is it.”
Having this fact laid so boldly in front of him was shocking, but true. Every time they saw each other Meghan asked what she could do to earn his forgiveness.
“Have you ever told her?” Avery asked.
“Told her what?”
“What it would take to forgive her?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know what that would be.”
“I’d figure it out if I were you. Not for her, but for you. It’s called closure, and you’re in desperate need of it.”
Walt took another sip of rum and then raised his glass. “You’re more of a shrink than you think.”
There was a natural lull to the conversation now that Walt’s confession was over.
“Back to what you asked me originally about why I came back to New York. I’ve been looking for something to get me reengaged and out of my head. Looking into the Cameron Young case has been good for me. It’s made me feel like my old self again.”
This, along with everything else he had told Avery tonight, was also true.
“Good,” Avery said. “And I’m sorry if I was pushy asking about all this.”
Walt shrugged his shoulders and pouted his lower lip. “I feel good. It might have been therapeutic to get it off my chest.”
“Glad I could help.” Avery checked her phone. “It’s getting late. Do you think I could take a look at the Cameron Young file tomorrow? See what I could use for my story? The city will be a ghost town this weekend. We could make the most out of it. Go through the case together, start to finish.”
Walt nodded. “Yeah. I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll figure out a time?”
“That would be great.”
Avery stood to leave.
“Sorry to ramble for so long,” Walt said.
He felt Avery place her hand on his wrist.
“It’s not rambling if you have a captive audience.”
He smiled. “Can I make sure you get back to your hotel all right?”
She nodded. “I’d appreciate that. I’m at the Lowell.”
They left Keens and walked the quiet streets of Midtown. Ten minutes on Madison Avenue took them to the entrance of Avery’s hotel.
“Thanks for walking me back,” Avery said.
“Sure thing.”
Avery took a step toward him and gave him a peck on the cheek before she embraced him in an unexpected hug. If the pretense of the night had been different, the possibility of being invited up to her room would be on his mind. It was on his mind, if he was being honest, but he could not in good conscience sleep with a woman whom he’d met under such nefarious circumstances. Their embrace ended and they stood face to face. There was a moment when it would have been natural to kiss her, but it passed in the blink of an eye.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said. “And we’ll figure out a time to look through the file.”
“Yeah,” Avery said, nodding her head and taking a step back. “Please do.”
He watched her walk through the front door and into the lobby of the Lowell. When the elevator doors opened and she stepped inside, Walt turned and started for his hotel. As he walked the empty streets he realized that for the first time in years, a woman other than Meghan Cobb occupied the folds of his mind.
CHAPTER 34
Manhattan, NY Friday, July 2, 2021
THERE WAS A KNOCK ON HIS HOTEL ROOM DOOR JUST BEFORE MIDNIGHT. Sprawled across the bed, Walt used two pillows to prop himself up in a sitting position. A freshly poured glass of rum was on his lap and ESPN on the television. He had kicked off his shoes when he arrived back from dinner, and poured himself a nightcap to settle himself after his impromptu confession and the confusing scene that had taken place in front of Avery Mason’s hotel thirty minutes earlier.
The knock came again, and his mind spun. He allowed into his thoughts the absurd notion that it was Avery knocking on his door. To check on him, perhaps? He had been a bit rattled after telling her the story about Meghan, one he had shared with no one before. Many knew scattered details about the affair, but no one knew the specifics. Until now. Until he had, for some inexplicable reason, confessed them to a television journalist. The knock came a third time. How had she found him? How did she know where he was staying and what room he was in? And, most urgently, was she here simply to comfort him, or was there another reason for her presence?
Some foreign emotion stirred in his chest as Walt stood from the bed, unsteadily placed his drink on the nightstand, and took a quick look in the mirror. The hazy eyes of a man who’d had too much to drink stared back at him. He ran a hand through his hair, took a deep breath, and walked to the door. When he pulled it open, Jim Oliver stood in the hallway.
“André Schwarzkopf,” Oliver said as he walked past Walt and into the hotel room.
Walt leaned his head against the edge of the door and briefly closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find on the other side of the door. He wasn’t sure he wanted Avery to be there. He wasn’t sure what might have transpired between them had he found her standing in the hallway. He felt at once disappointed that she was not there, and foolish for believing she might be. He closed the door.
“Who?”
“The brownstone in Brooklyn,” Oliver said. “It belongs to André Schwarzkopf. He flies under the radar but has been known to dabble in procuring false documents. Mostly passports, but also the occasional birth certificate and green card. We had a file on him.”
Walt shook his head to clear the cobwebs. He worked hard to change gears. “What’s it mean?”