He glanced over at the power strip. “I’m going to plug it back in,” he said.
“I’ll get it, let me.” I crawled over, shoved the plug into the outlet. The computer tower started to hum. Before Thomas could get up I said to him, “But we need to establish some rules, okay? Before you start exploring again.”
He nodded slowly.
“First thing we have to do is get an ice pack on your head. You okay with that?”
He considered my offer. “Okay,” he said.
I extended a hand, and was relieved when he took it. I noticed his hands were bruised, too. “Jesus, you really made a mess of yourself.”
He looked at me. “How is your neck?”
It hurt. “Fine,” I said.
“I’m sorry I tried to kill you,” he said.
“You weren’t trying to kill me. You were just angry. I was an asshole.”
He nodded. “Yeah. A fuckhead.”
He sat at the kitchen table while I found a soft ice pack in the freezer. Dad was always suffering from some kind of strain or pulled muscle and there were enough packs in there to cool a Dairy Queen. “Hold this on your head,” I said, handing Thomas one.
I pulled over a chair so I could put an arm around his shoulder.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” I said.
“No,” Thomas said.
“I kind of lost it.”
“Have you been taking your medication?” he asked,
I hadn’t had a single M&M since returning from Dr. Grigorin’s. “No, I guess I forgot to take them.”
“You run into problems when you don’t take your medication,” he said.
I kept my arm around him. “There’s no excuse for what I did. I know…I know you’re the way you are, and screaming at you, that’s not going to make things any different.”
“What are the rules?” he asked.
“I just…I just want you to check with me first before you send any e-mails, or make any phone calls. But you can still wander all the cities you want for as long as you want. Is that a deal?”
He thought about it, still holding the freezer bag to his head. “I don’t know.”
“Thomas, not everyone in the government understands that you’re trying to help them. They don’t understand that you’re a good guy. I want to make sure there aren’t any misunderstandings. It’s not just you who could get in trouble. It’s me, too.”
“I guess,” he said. He took the bag from his head. “It’s really cold.”
“Try to keep it there. It’ll keep the swelling down.”
“Okay,” he said.
“I’ve never seen you get that angry,” I said. “I mean, I had it coming, but I didn’t know you had it in you.”
As Thomas held the cold bag to his head, his eyes were shielded.
“I’m going to go back to work now,” he said, slipping out from under my arm and heading for the stairs, leaving the bag on the table.
His back to me, he said, “Am I still making dinner tonight?”
I had forgotten. “No,” I said. “Don’t worry about it.”
EIGHTEEN
BRIDGET is coming out of the building on Thirty-fifth Street where the PR firm she works for is headquartered when she sees him waiting there for her.
He grabs her firmly by the elbow and starts leading her down the sidewalk.
“Howard!” she says, glancing down at his hand. “Let go of my arm. You’re hurting me.”
Howard Talliman says nothing. He swiftly moves her along, Bridget struggling to maintain her balance on her heels. He steers her into the lobby of a building, the first place he’s spotted where he can talk to her without anyone else listening in.
“What does she know?” Howard asks once they are inside. He has moved Bridget up against a marble wall and still not released his grip on her.
“Howard, what the hell—”
“She says she heard things.” He is hissing, almost snakelike.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“I met with her. When she was leaving, she said she heard things.”
“Heard what? What did she say she heard?”
“She didn’t say. But she intimated that it was something damaging. Things you’d said, things that made sense once she knew who you are.”
“Howard, I swear—”
“Did you talk to Morris while you were in Barbados?”
“Of course. We talk all the time.”
“You talked to him when you were with Allison Fitch?”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure I did. Howard, I can’t feel my hand. You’re cutting off the circulation.”
He releases his grip but is still only inches from her, his face pressed up to hers. “Was she present when you had those conversations?”
“No, I mean, she might have been in the other room. I talked to him when I was in the bathroom, or maybe when Allison was. I talked to him by the pool one day, when she went off to get us drinks.”
“So she might have heard any of them. She could have been behind you, or on the other side of a door,” Howard says.
“Okay, I suppose it’s possible, but even if she did, we didn’t—I’m sure I never said anything that—”
“You know about Morris’s situation,” Howard says grimly.
“He doesn’t tell me everything.”