Finn, a meteorological optimist, had put the top down on his battered MG, and when he and Kozlowski emerged from the bar, he struggled to pull the canvas covering back out. By the time it was back up, the interior was soaked.
Kozlowski stood outside the car, looking angrily from Finn to the passenger seat.
“Wipe it down,” Finn said. “There’s a towel in the back.”
Kozlowski reached into the back and grabbed the towel. “Wiping it down doesn’t do a goddamn thing,” he said. “The seat’s cracked. The water soaks into the cushion so it’s like sitting on a wet sponge. Why do you think the car smells like mildew all the time?”
“I thought that was you.”
“Asshole.”
“You wanna call a cab? I can meet you back at the office,” Finn asked.
“No, I don’t want to call a goddamned cab. I want to work with someone who drives a real goddamned car. Not some piece of crap clowns should be jumping out of.”
“So sit on the towel then. That’ll keep you dry.”
“I would, but then my head scrapes against the roof of the car.”
Finn looked again at Kozlowski. His expression had turned from anger to disgust to plain unhappiness. “You have seriously turned into a major whiner,” Finn said. “Are you going soft on me?”
Kozlowski’s look was sharp. “I’m not going soft, I just don’t want to sit in pants with a wet ass for the rest of the goddamned day.” He frowned again, then spread the towel over the seat and slid in gingerly, trying to hold some of his weight off the seat. Finn had to stifle his laughter. They drove like that back to the office with Kozlowski leaning on the door and holding himself up with the windshield. The rain pelted him through the window, drenching his head and shoulders.
It was after four o’clock when they arrived. Lissa and Sally were already there when Finn and Kozlowski walked through the door.
“What happened to you?” Lissa asked Kozlowski, noting his wet head.
“Don’t ask,” Kozlowski replied. He nodded to the girl and padded down the hall toward the bathroom to dry himself off.
Finn looked at Lissa. “Did you tell her?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I told her.”
“I’m in the room,” Sally said. They looked at her. “You were talking about me, right?”
Finn nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Sorry, didn’t mean to ignore you, I just…”
“She told me,” Sally said. “My dad’s not getting out today.”
“Not yet,” Finn said. “We ran into an issue that we didn’t expect.”
“Yeah, sounds like Devon pitched a fit,” Sally replied. “He’s a fuckup; I already know that.”
“I might have used different terms,” he said. “But yeah, he had a little outburst. I’ll get another bail hearing set, though.” He glanced at Lissa, wondering how much she had told the girl. She frowned and gave a slight shake of her head that Finn took as a signal that she hadn’t gone further. He breathed a sigh of relief; the last thing he wanted was to have to explain anything more than the basics to Sally. He looked back at the girl. “So, I guess you’re staying with me for a couple more nights. That okay with you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t have any choice, I guess,” she said.
“That’s all you have to say?” Lissa asked.
Sally looked up at her. “What else do you want me to say?”
“It’s okay,” Finn began, but Lissa cut him off.
“No, it’s not okay,” she said. “You wanna spend your time playing savior, that’s your call, but I’m not gonna sit here and watch the person who’s benefiting from your generosity be rude to you.” She looked at Sally. “When someone does something nice for you, you say thank you.”
Sally stood up. She was wearing her coat, and her bag dangled from her hand. Finn thought there was a good chance that she was about to walk out the door. That was the last thing he needed; he had no interest in combing the city, looking for Devon ’s kid. He felt a bolt of annoyance with Lissa. “I could go to the street,” Sally said. “I’d survive, y’know.”
“I know,” Lissa said. “That’s why Finn’s offer is nice. He doesn’t have to give you a better option, but he’s doing it anyway. Some appreciation is in order. If not…” Lissa swept her hand toward the door as she let her ultimatum trail off.
Finn rubbed his temples. He was about to cut in when Sally turned and looked at him, biting her bottom lip. “Thank you,” she said.
Finn just stared at her. Then he looked with incredulity at Lissa. After a moment he turned back to Sally. “You’re welcome,” he said.
“Good,” Lissa said. She looked at Finn. “You’ve got a dozen messages on your desk, and your voice mail is full. It’s gonna take an hour or more to deal with whatever’s there. I have some things that I gotta take care of, too. Sally can use the time to do whatever work she has.” Sally blinked at her. “You do have homework, I assume?”
“I guess.”
“Good. Then, when we’re all ready, I’ll take us to dinner.”
“You don’t need to,” Finn said. “I can feed her at my place.”
“On what? Ketchup? I’ve seen your refrigerator.”
“I’ve got more than ketchup,” Finn said.
“Yeah? What else?”
“Mustard and relish,” Sally answered before Finn could respond. He looked at her. “And something in an old Chinese takeout carton that’s growing feet. I was hungry last night,” she said. “I looked.”
“Did you check the cupboard?” he asked.
“I’ll make some reservations,” Lissa said. “An hour?”
Kozlowski was walking back into the office from the hallway. His hair was tousled but dry. “What’s in an hour?”
“Dinner,” Lissa said. “I’m buying.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“Just thought everyone could use a good meal,” Lissa said.
“Ah,” Kozlowski said knowingly. “Someone looked in Finn’s refrigerator.”
“It wasn’t pretty,” Sally said.
“I think I liked you better when you were less grateful and more sullen,” Finn said to her.
“An hour,” Lissa said again. Finn looked at her and nodded. Then he went to his desk and started digging out from the messages and mail that had piled up during his daylong absence from the office.
Liam sat in a rented van parked on the square a half block down from Finn’s office. There was a newspaper in front of him, opened to the sports section. Liam didn’t follow any American sports, but he wasn’t looking at the paper. He was watching the door to the lawyer’s office. He’d been there for more than an hour, waiting. He’d passed by the place once, determining that it was empty. He’d scouted the area, getting an idea for the layout. There was a back door to the little office, but it didn’t look as if it saw much use. He assumed they would be entering from the front. The square was the best spot from which to observe. It was close enough to get a good look at the building, but far enough away that he wouldn’t draw too much attention. It was near a small row of stores; in the rain and cold, he didn’t look too far out of place. The van was a nondescript white delivery vehicle, dappled with patches of rust and textured with dents from hard use. The interior was stripped to the metal, rippled and grungy, with pockets of moisture bordering on small puddles that seemed never to dry no matter what the weather. He could have been waiting to pick up or deliver just about anything.
The woman showed up with the girl about a half hour after he’d settled in with the paper and a cup of coffee. When he saw them enter the brownstone, he double-checked the address. They looked like a mother and daughter, but that didn’t fit with his information.