to come clean about the armed cop camped on our sofa. Pagan was right; he’d totally lose his shit.
“Dean, that is awesome. Congratulations. And it makes me like Christoph a whole lot better, that he knows what a good thing he has in you.”
“Well, I have to go to Canada as soon as I’m done here. Quebec, to a paper mill. My first sales call.”
“Will you be back in time for Mom’s nuptial event?” I asked.
“I’ve got five more days here, then La Tuque. I’ll do my best.”
“I could use the moral support, you know?”
“I just want to see you,” he said.
“Me too you. I’m really glad things are going so well, but it still sucks to have you on the road.”
And I’m scared.
“How’s the cast?”
“Itchy.”
“When does it come off this time?”
“Another couple of weeks,” I said.
“I can’t wait to see your naked arm again.”
“Yeah.”
“You okay? You sound kind of sad.”
“Just tired,” I said.
“I love you, Bunny.”
“Me too you,” I said, and we hung up.
I walked back to the bedroom.
A car drove by in the street below, schussing through the slush.
“You didn’t tell him,” said Pagan from across the darkened room.
“This kind of news? I figured I’d better do it in person.”
If I’d told him all the details of my day, he would’ve come running home on the first prop-jet out of Amarillo. Just when things were starting to look up for him.
I didn’t care about the paycheck, just his pride. He had something to excel at now—as he so very much deserved.
God knows holding back a few details from my intrepid spouse to protect that wouldn’t be the hardest thing I’d ever done.
And then I jumped back out of bed and ran to the bathroom again.
Dry heaves, since I hadn’t touched a bite of dinner.
“You okay?” Pagan stood in the bathroom’s street-lit doorway.
“I’m fucking terrified.”
“It’s one more day. Skwarecki takes you to court, then you’re done, right?”
“I guess,” I said.
“You know what?”
“What?”
“It is worth it. What you’re doing.”
“That means a lot.”
“Nobody stood up for that kid when he was alive. Somebody has to now.”
“I know.”
“Don’t back down.”
“I won’t. Thank you.”
“Just don’t get us all fucking killed, okay?”
“I’ll do my best,” I said.
“That’s all we can do. Any of us.”
“Yeah.”
“You done puking?”
“Let’s hope.”
“So brush your teeth. Come back to bed.”
45
I still felt like dog shit when I woke up the next morning, so queasy with nerves I didn’t even have coffee.
“You gotta eat something. Settle your stomach,” said Skwarecki.
“I’m not hungry,” I said. “Feels like I’d just puke if I tried food.”
“We could stop at a deli on the way, get you a bagel.”
I grabbed the Nutella out of the cupboard and ate three big spoonfuls. “Happy now?”
She shrugged. “How do you feel?”
“Better,” I said, surprised.
In fact I was kind of hungry now. Enough to scrape the jar empty with my spoon.
Skwarecki looked at her watch.
“Let’s hit it,” she said. “When you’re up first they always start on time.”
Skwarecki stayed with me right up to the door of the witness room back at the courthouse.
“You gonna be okay?” she asked.
“I guess.”
“Meet you right back here at lunch, okay? By that point you’re probably done with testifying.”
“What’ve you got planned for the morning?” I asked.
“Ah, the usual—couple hands of canasta, maybe run a few license plates. Then maybe drive around, see if I can find any gold Lincolns.”
“Thank you,” I said. “For all of this.”
“Protect and serve, right?”
“Above and beyond. Staying over, making me eat something this morning?”
“Hey,” she said. “Who’s your buddy, who’s your pal?”
As soon as I sat back down in the box, I saw Kyle in the back row of the gallery right next to Cate.
The swearing-in from yesterday still counted, I guess, because Bost got right into the questions from where she’d left off.
I was more nervous, though. I kept looking at the sea of faces behind the two lawyers’ tables, trying to see if anyone looked like they had an ax to grind. Literally.
We were quickly in new territory, though, Bost and I. Not just rehashing what I’d already told the grand jury. I had to give up playing Spot the Boogeyman so I could concentrate on her questions.
Bost had led me up through when she asked us to find the second sneaker.
“So you and Detective Skwarecki agreed to return to the cemetery that same afternoon?” she asked.
“We discussed it that afternoon, but we planned to meet each other at Prospect the following morning.”
“And did you do so?”
“No, we didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Detective Skwarecki was late,” I said,