Nat frowned. The article made it sound as if all the deaths had taken place in the RHU, which they hadn't, and that Saunders was a casualty of the melee, rather than having been murdered in a different Place. Did the difference matter? She skimmed the article again and noticed a related article link, and clicked it. The Very Model of a Corrections Officer, popped onto the screen. It was a sidebar about Saunders. She sipped cold coffee and read on:
Ron Saunders died as he lived, serving others. When inmates started a fire in the RHU, the rehabilitation unit where violent inmates are housed, Saunders was the first to respond to the call. That urge to serve others got him killed, even in a minor disturbance. Saunders was a veteran corrections officer with an eleven-year record, and also served as a volunteer firefighter for Pocopson Township and was well known in the community for his good works. He leaves behind a wife, Barbara, and three children, Timothy, John, and James. A private memorial and viewing will be held in his honor, and the family has requested that in lieu of flowers, donations be sent to the Boys' and Girls' Clubs of West Chester, Pa.
Again, Nat didn't get it. The sidebar also made it sound as if Saunders had died in the RHU. She shook her head, which started to pound again. Saunders's wife was named Barbara and he had three kids. Nat couldn't put it off another minute. She grabbed the notepaper with the number, picked up the phone, and called the Saunders house. Her heart began to hammer, and the call connected with a loud click.
"Yes?" answered a woman who sounded older.
"Hi, my name is Nat Greco. I hate to bother you, but is this the home of Ron Saunders, who worked as a corrections officer?"
"Yes, it is."
"Please accept my condolences. May I ask, is Mrs. Saunders at home?"
"She can't come to the phone. I'm her mother. You're not a reporter, are you?"
"No, not at all. I teach at a law school. I was at the prison when the riot broke out." Nat swallowed hard. "I happened to be with Mr. Saunders, at the time he… when he…"
"You're the one," the woman said, her tone hushed. "We heard that there was someone with him. Were you there, when he died?"
"I tried to save him." Nat felt shaky all over again. "I'm sorry, so sorry, that I couldn't."
"No, no, no, dear, that's all right." The older woman's tone turned soothing. "I didn't mean it that way. Barbara, my daughter, was so pleased that Ron wasn't alone when he passed. I feel exactly the same way."
Nat breathed easier. "I was wondering if I could speak with Mrs. Saunders sometime. I could talk with her over the phone or in person, whenever it's convenient. Whatever she wishes."
"I know she'd love to meet you and talk with you. You're her last connection with Ron. Would you mind coming out to the house? I'm afraid she's not ready to travel, and the children are here."
Poor kids. "Of course, I'll come there."
"When can you come? I know she'll want to see you as soon as possible. We were just talking about it, praying that you existed and that it wasn't just a rumor."
"I can come whenever you wish. Anytime this week is fine."
"How kind of you. How about today?"
Gulp.
"It would be such a comfort to Barbara, and she needs it. If you could manage it, anytime this afternoon would be wonderful. Though I'm sure you're very busy."
"No, I'm not. I'm in the city, and I could leave now and be there in an hour or so. I have your address."
"See you then. We're here all day."
Thank you," Nat said, hanging up. No time like the present. She logged onto maps.com, got the driving directions, and was printing them when she heard a knock. She looked up. Angus was standing in the threshold of her office in his thick sweater, wearing a sideways grin. If he was upset about the meeting with McConnell, he was covering it well.
"So this is your office, huh?" he said, looking around. "Nice vibe. Pretty. Light. Quiet." As he scanned the shelves, Nat slid the driving directions discreetly from the tray. Angus gestured at the large window behind her chair, which overlooked Sansom Street, with its trendy shops and restaurants. "You have the hip and cool view. The White Dog is my favorite restaurant. Free-range law professors our specialty."
"What's your view like?" It struck Nat that she had no idea where Angus's office was. She really had to get out more.
"I'm in the basement, but it's gorgeous. We have our own place, all remodeled. You should see it."
"Don't tell me, lemme guess. Posters of Che Guevara. Lenin. Woodstock. Birds on guitars."
"How did you know?" Angus laughed, but Nat didn't want to banter anymore. He had to be hurting inside.
"You okay?"
"You mean since my demotion?"
"You weren't demoted."
"Emasculated, then."
Nat smiled, and Angus laughed, nevertheless.
"I'm fine. I called Sam's cell, but there was no answer. He has to go to the veldt to get away, where there's no possibility of fund-raising."
Nat cocked her head. "I feel bad for you."
"Don't worry. Sam gets it. He knows how important those externships are, and I built them. He'll set it right when he comes back." Angus shrugged. "Did you see the newspapers?"
"The account is hardly complete, or accurate."
"I know, right? I get that they don't want to alarm the community, but it's ridiculous."
"If I hear about those stupid stingers one more time, I'll scream."
"Hey, you wanna grab lunch?" Angus asked, but Nat hesitated.
"Uh, cant. I was just going out. I have an errand to run."
"Okay." Angus's face fell somewhere behind his beard. "Rain check, then?”
“Sure.”
"I'm not hitting on you."
"I know that."
"I'm over you."
"Good for you."
"In fact, I barely liked you, until you stood up for me with that tool McConnell."
Nat laughed, and Angus's grin returned.
"You should stop by my office sometime. You're wrong about the decor. No Che Guevara posters."
"Jessica Alba?"
"You got me." Angus laughed. "Walk you out? I'll grab a falafel from the truck."
"Okay." Nat went in her desk for her handbag, feeling guilty for not telling him about Saunders. He was the only one who could really understand what yesterday had been like. Then again, if she told him, she'd be admitting that she'd lied to the police. On impulse, she closed her office door and showed him the seat across from her desk. "Sit down a minute, would you?"
Angus sat down, mystified. "You gonna emasculate me, too?"
"No, but I have to tell you something. The whole truth and nothing but." Nat went back to her desk, sat down, and told him the story of finding Saunders, alive despite his wounds. As Angus listened, his bright eyes grew somber, and Nat managed not to cry. "The thing I didn't tell you is that, before he died, Saunders said something to me. His last words. It was a message for his wife. I didn't want to tell the cops. It's not their business."
"I understand." Angus rubbed his beard. "It's not mine, either."
Exactly. "But I have to tell his wife. That's where I was going just now. Out to the Saunders house."
"In the subs? That's the errand?" Angus smiled. "You're a terrible liar Natalie. You acted so guilty, I was worried you were having an affair, and I'm not even your boyfriend."
Nat laughed. It felt good to joke around with him. A shaft of sunlight moved onto his hair, bringing out golden highlights she hadn't noticed before. Either he had washed it last night or he was a total hunk and probably not a drug addict. She had a new respect for him, after yesterday and this morning.
"I also think that you're extraordinary, for trying to save him."