“A lot. But god, you’re stubborn.” He leans down and kisses her forehead. “I’ll see you later.”
Colette pours a fresh cup of coffee and brings it to the window, peering down at the street, queasy with exhaustion. She spent most of the night on the glider, catching moments of sleep in between nursing Poppy, knowing she should put the baby in her crib, force her to get accustomed to falling asleep on her own, like every expert recommends, letting her cry for a few moments if necessary. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Every instinct told her to stay with her baby, let Poppy sleep in her arms all night if that’s what she needed.
The visit to the pediatrician had not gone well. “She’s behind,” the doctor said. “It’s clear. She’s having some muscle weakness in her upper body, a little more pronounced on her right side. And I’m concerned about the way she’s holding her head.”
“What does it mean?” Colette asked, cradling Poppy to her chest.
“It’s too early to tell. All we can do at this point is watch her. Come back in three months.”
“Three months? Why so long? There’s nothing to do before that?”
“Not at this age. We just have to wait and see. Kids can outgrow this.”
Charlie appears on the sidewalk downstairs. He adjusts his earbuds and then breaks into a slow jog, steering the stroller toward the entrance to the park. He reacted to the news as she expected he would. Calmly.
“Okay, so we’ll bring her back in three months,” he said. “If he tells us then that we need to be worried, we’ll start worrying.”
A car comes careening down the street just as Charlie starts to cross, not waiting for the walk light. Colette holds her breath as he steps back onto the sidewalk, yelling something at the driver. When he jogs across and turns at the stone wall, she closes the curtain, places her coffee on the table, and kneels in front of the couch, feeling underneath for the envelope holding the flash drive.
She zips it into the inner pocket of her bag and lingers in the shower, the water extra cold, trying to clear her head and force herself awake; to purge the thoughts that have been plaguing her since yesterday. They found a body.
The information was scarce—a simple note from Mark Hoyt at the very top of the stack. Remains were discovered at approximately 5 p.m. yesterday. Sent to lab, identification to be confirmed by 1200 hours tomorrow. Will update asap.
She closes her eyes under the stream of cold water, reenvisioning the dream she had last night. Winnie was in a field, standing over Midas’s lifeless body. Colette walked closer, reaching to take Winnie’s arm, but when Winnie turned, Colette saw she’d been wrong. It wasn’t Winnie standing over Midas. It was Francie.
She turns off the shower and dresses quickly. When she arrives on the fourth floor of City Hall an hour later, Allison is not at her desk. Colette waits in the lobby for a few minutes before going to Teb’s door and peeking inside his empty office. Her footsteps are quiet on the carpet as she walks slowly toward his credenza, fishing inside the pocket of her bag for the flash drive. Just as she’s about to place it on the floor under a row of chairs, Allison stands up from behind Teb’s desk.
“Hi,” she says.
“Oh my god.” Colette tightens her grip on the flash drive. “You scared me to death.”
“I’m sorry,” says Allison, placing her palm on her abdomen. “Whoosh. That made me a little dizzy.”
“What are you doing?” Colette asks.
Allison sighs. “Listen, is there a chance anyone came and took something from the mayor’s desk while you were in here working?”
“Took something?” Colette clears her throat. “No, not that I remember.”
“Shoot.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing. I swore I put something in here for the mayor, but he can’t find it. He’s pissed at me.”
“I can help you look,” Colette says. “What is it?”
Allison waves her hand. “Don’t be silly. You have enough to worry about without having to fix a mess I made. But”—she frowns—“I have to ask you to wait outside. I’ve been told I can’t let anyone into his office if he’s not here. He probably doesn’t mean you, but I’m in enough trouble, so—”
“Of course,” Colette says. “I’m happy to wait outside.”
Colette follows Allison back into the lobby. Beyond the couches, in front of the large west windows with a view of City Hall Park, a young man is setting up a podium while another waits nearby, looking bored, holding a cardboard seal of the city. Colette takes a seat in one of the leather chairs and drops the flash drive into her bag just as Allison reappears, a large manila envelope in her hand.
“This arrived for you.”
Colette’s name is written in green block letters on the front of the envelope, followed by the address for City Hall. Who would send mail to her at the mayor’s office? Nobody’s even supposed to know she comes here.
“When?” Colette asks.
“Late yesterday.”
Colette takes the envelope and tucks it into her bag. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure. Hopefully you won’t have to wait long, but to be honest, it doesn’t look good.” Allison nods toward the two young men setting up the podium. “Something strange is going on here today.”
Allison returns to her desk and Colette settles into her seat, distracted by the envelope. Something tells her she shouldn’t open it now. Not here, not with people around.
For the next thirty minutes, Colette flips idly through old issues of the New Yorker. At last Colette hears people coming down the hall. Aaron enters the lobby with a woman. She’s wearing a dark gray suit, and Colette catches a glimpse of a holstered gun at her waist. There’s something familiar about her.
“See you later,” the woman says to Allison, and hearing her voice, it hits Colette. It’s the detective who interviewed Winnie. The one from the flash drive. She disappears into the elevator as Aaron approaches Colette, his cell phone in one hand and a thick folder in the other. Colette stands up, but he gestures for her to sit back down. “Not yet, sorry. Something’s come up. The mayor apologizes. Give us ten more minutes.”
“I can come back when it’s a better time.”
“No, I’m doing my best to get you in,” Aaron says, glancing over Colette’s shoulder at Joan Ramirez, the mayor’s press secretary, who is standing outside the mayor’s door. Aaron nods at Joan. “Ten more minutes.” He touches Colette’s shoulder and turns to go, but as he does, the folder drops from under his arm to the floor, scattering papers around her feet. She stoops to help collect them, reaching under her chair.
Her hand stops midair.
It’s a photo of Midas. Colette picks up the photo and examines it. He’s wearing a gray-striped onesie and is sucking on his fist. He appears to be lying on a white carpet.
“Colette?”
Aaron is holding out his palm. She stands and gives him the photo.
“Thanks,” he says, winking at her. He ushers Joan into the mayor’s office, and Colette sits back down, the room spinning around her. She rests her forehead in her hands, fighting the desire to lower her head between her knees, the way she was advised to do by a bus driver in the second grade, who’d noticed her turning green with car sickness in the seat behind him. Remains were discovered. That photograph. The detective. The press conference they’re setting up for.
Midas is dead.
What else could it be?
She hears Teb’s voice and looks up, seeing him walking toward her. She stands, keeping her bag close to her body.
“I have some bad news, Colette,” Teb says. His tone is serious. “There’s something here I need to deal with. I’m really sorry.”
“What is it?” she asks, but then Aaron is there, his cell phone ringing. He reaches into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.