Long Lost - By Harlan Coben Page 0,65

I said.

He waited.

"Why tell me all this?"

"About the black site?"

"Yes."

"Because despite what they think the medications will do, I don't believe you can totally forget. You need help, Myron. Please get it."

HERE was how I found out that maybe Berleand was right.

When I came back to the office, I called some clients. Esperanza ordered in sandwiches from Lenny's. We all ate at the desk. Esperanza talked about her baby boy, Hector. I realize that there are few bigger cliches than saying that motherhood changes a woman, but in the case of Esperanza the changes seemed particularly startling and not all that appealing.

When we were done, I went back into my office and closed the door. I left the light off. I sat at my desk for a very long time. We all have our moments of contemplation and depression, but this was something different, something more profound and deeper and heavier. I could not move. My limbs felt heavy. I have gotten into my share of scrapes over the years, so I keep a weapon in my office.

A.38 Smith amp; Wesson to be more exact.

I opened the bottom drawer, took out the gun, and held it in my hand. Tears ran down my face.

I know how melodramatic this must sound. This image of poor, pitiful me, sitting alone at my desk, feeling depressed, a gun in my hand-it's laughable when you think about it. If there had been a photograph of Terese on my desk, I could have picked it up 邪 la Mel Gibson in the first Lethal Weapon movie and jammed the barrel into my mouth.

I didn't do that.

But I had thoughts.

When the doorknob on my office door started to turn-no one knocks here, especially Esperanza-I moved fast, dropping the gun back into the drawer. Esperanza walked in and looked at me.

"What are you up to?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"What were you just doing?"

"Nothing."

She looked at me. "Were you pleasuring yourself under the desk?"

"Caught me."

"You still look terrible."

"That's the word on the street, yeah."

"I would tell you to go home, but you've missed enough days and I don't think wallowing around by yourself is going to do you much good."

"Agreed. Was there a reason you intruded?"

"Does there need to be?"

"Never been one in the past," I said. "By the way, what's up with Win?"

"That's why I intruded. He's on the Batphone." She gestured for me to turn around.

On the credenza behind my desk there is a red phone that sits under what looks like a glass cake cover. If you saw the original Batman TV show, you know why. The red phone was blinking. Win. I picked it up and said, "Where are you?"

" Bangkok," Win said, his tone a tad too upbeat, "which is really an ironic name for this place when you stop and think about it."

"Since when?" I asked.

"Is that important?"

"Just seems like weird timing," I said. Then remembering: "What happened with that DNA sample we took from Miriam's grave?"

"Confiscated."

"By?"

"Men with shiny badges and shinier suits."

"How did they find out about it?"

Silence.

That wave of shame. Then I said, "Me?"

He did not bother replying. "Did you speak with Captain Berleand?"

"I did. What do you think?"

"I think," Win said, "that his hypothesis has merit."

"I don't get it. Why are you in Bangkok?"

"Where should I be?"

"Here, home, I don't know."

"That's probably not a very good idea right now."

I thought about it.

"Is this line safe?" I asked.

"Very. And your office was swept this morning."

"So what happened in London?"

"You saw me kill Tweedledee and Tweedledum?"

"Yes."

"You know the rest then. Officials crashed in. There was no way I could get you out, so I decided that it would be best for me to depart. I immediately headed out of the country. Why? Because I, as I just stated, believe Berleand's tale has merit. I thus did not think it would behoove either of us for me to be taken into custody too. Do you understand?"

"I do. So what's your plan now?"

"To stay hidden just a little while longer."

"Best way to make everyone safe is to get to the bottom of this."

"True dat, dawg," Win said.

I love it when he talks street.

"To that end, I'm putting out some feelers. I'm hoping to get someone to tell me the fate of Ms. Collins. To put it bluntly-and, yes, I know you have feelings for her-if Terese was killed, this is pretty much over for us. Our interests are gone."

"What about finding her daughter?"

"If Terese is dead, what would be the point?"

I thought about that. He