Page 56

FIFTY-TWO

DAVID BOWERS BENDS OVER at the waist, hands on his knees. Behind him, the rear door of Hemingway’s Pub. “He really said that?” he whispers. “Silas Renfrow?”

“He really said that.” Despite herself, Camille is tempted to feel sorry for David, who looks utterly broken and terrified. “Sergeant Janowski has proved to be a pretty quick study.”

David straightens up, puts his hands on his head, looks up at the darkening sky. If he’s looking for divine intervention, he’s out of luck. David made his own bed.

“You’ve been wishing this away, David.”

He nods, finally looks at her. “That’s exactly what I’ve been doing. Hoping if I denied it, to myself and everyone else, it would go away. I figured nobody could prove anything, right? So just deny, deny, deny. Nothing else made sense.”

All things considered, she thinks, that probably was as good a play as anything else. But now it’s over. David can clearly see that now.

Camille feels a wave of queasiness, takes a step to steady herself.

“Still with the nausea?” David looks at her.

“Still with the nausea.”

“How’s the baby doing?”

“Fine.”

David shivers, rubs his arms. It can’t be warmer than thirty degrees out here, and all he has on is a flannel shirt and khakis. But his nerves must be playing a role, too.

“You’re going to tell Marcie everything,” she says.

He nods. “No choice now.”

“Everything,” she repeats.

“Yeah, everything. It’s gonna … it’s gonna kill her.” He blows out air. “It’s gonna kill her.”

“Give her some credit. She’s a strong lady.”

David heads toward the door, his posture slumped, a defeated, broken man. Then he turns back to her. “How long we known each other, Cam?”

“Oh, jeez.” She looks up.

“All that time.” He puts out a hand. “All that time, nobody ever knew about our … they never knew about us. They never knew about me. And I swear, I thought nobody ever would.”

“And then you had to go save a drowning man in a river.”

A grim smirk plays on his face. “No good deed goes unpunished, I guess.”