Vicki didn't reply, but she would never believe that. She could never have predicted where this long road would lead her. Now that she'd reached the end, she didn't want to be here. Not if it cost Reheema her life.
She couldn't stop the mental images of what else was to come. The indictment against Bale. His wife and kids heartbroken. Her office and ATF disgraced. Strauss and Saxon before microphones, reminding the public of the overwhelming majority of hardworking, dedicated AUSAs and agents. Lawsuits by those wrongly imprisoned, costing the federal government millions of dollars. Every penny won would be deserved, and even so, couldn't make anyone whole. And some of those released would surely have been found guilty, if the government had been given the chance to prove its case; now they'd be freed, even well-compensated. So they could buy more guns for resale.
"If justice is good, why does it feel so bad?" Vicki asked.
"Lot of things that are good feel genuinely lousy."
"Like what?"
"Apologies, for example. I owed you a major apology and I gave it to you. I was wrong, down the line, and you were right." Dan smiled, tired and still wearing his North Face coat, too. "You know, I love you."
"I love you, too." Vicki liked the new tone in his voice, but neither of them felt like kissing. "So when you gonna dump me?"
"After I sleep with you a few more times."
"Hey!" Vicki shoved him, and Dan laughed softly, defending himself with his hands.
"Stop. I'm not dumping you."
"What about work?"
"We can handle it."
"What about what people will say?"
"They don't like it, they can kiss my Irish ass." Dan smiled.
"I'm sorry I said you had to choose. I was being stupid."
"I'm sorry I said you were political."
"I am. At least, I was."
"I can't believe Morty," Vicki said, disgusted. "He turned out to be such a fraud. A liar. His whole life was phony."
"You're just angry."
"Damn right I am. Look what he did."
"You and me, we don't see Morty the same way."
Vicki frowned. "Since when did you start talking like Dr. Phil?"
"Since about an hour ago, when my girlfriend almost got killed, again, and my professional life turned upside down. It makes you think."
"How do you see him?"
"I'll tell you, if you can listen with an open mind." Dan's smile vanished, and his eyes looked dead-level at Vicki. "It's something I learned from my father, and from Zoe."
"The cat?" Vicki smiled. "Okay."
"As you know, Miss Zoe is loving, smart, and loyal. She has many wonderful qualities. Plus, she loves you."
"I'm her landlord."
"That's beside the point. She hated my evil ex-wife."
"So did I."
Dan smiled. "But to my point. She's wonderful but she's not perfect. She has a heart murmur."
"Yeah, so?"
"I love her anyway."
"So?"
"Think about Morty. He was smart and dedicated and able, but he had something wrong with his heart. And so did Bale. You're angry because you think you can't love them anymore, especially Morty. But you can." Dan nodded. "My father is in the same category, but I love him anyway, too."
"You forgive him?"
"No, I mean I love him. It's a direct line."
"Is that possible?" Vicki didn't get it.
"Yes. Listen to me. I'm older, I'm taller, and I know." Dan reached over and moved a stray tendril from Vicki's face. "You're looking for the perfect man, babe, and all there is is me, and your father."
Vicki blinked, and suddenly there was a rustling at the threshold to the waiting room. They both turned. Reheema's surgeon, an older man in wrinkled blue scrubs and a puffy patterned hat, came bustling in, his face drawn with concern.
"Doc?" Vicki said, alarmed, sitting up.
FIFTY
By early morning, the snow had finally stopped falling outside the hospital room window, leaving the sky a pure sapphire-blue that appeared only in the coldest winters, as heaven's own reward. Vicki sat in the high-backed chair while Reheema slept, a transparent green oxygen tube looped under her nose, and her hair black and fuzzy on the thin white pillow. A thermal blanket was pulled up to her neck, covering the bandages from her surgery. The doctor had said that she was going to live, but her recovery was going to be slow, so Vicki had sent Dan home.
In time Reheema stirred and her large eyes fluttered open, and Vicki got up and crossed to the bed, feeling a rush of relief. It was one thing to have a doctor say she was going to live, and another to see her finally wake up. Vicki eased onto the edge of the bed, near Reheema. A splint had been taped to the top of her hand where the IV went into the vein, and her long, dark fingers bent slightly, with the residuum of dried blood under her fingernails.
Reheema opened her eyes and managed a weak smile. "Back off," she said, her voice hoarse. "Last time you got this close… you tried to strangle me."
Vicki smiled. "That was before."
"Before what?"
"Before I knew you'd sue me for it."
Reheema smiled again, then it faded quickly. The spirit was willing, but the body was definitely weak. She looked as if she could barely keep her eyes open, but when she did, they flashed with attitude. "I'll drop that suit… you treat me right."
"Now don't get fresh. I've been here all night and we haven't fought once."
"I was asleep."
"I'll take it. How do you feel?"
"Fine."
"Congratulations, you're out of intensive care."
"Dumb… to stay in here too long. I feel… fine."
"Oh yeah, you look fine. You know, I bet Dan you wouldn't make it. The minute you woke up, I lost fifty bucks."
Reheema smiled again. "Montgomery dead?"
"Yes."
"Good."
Vicki couldn't deny it. "And Bale's going to prison. I'll give you the details when you feel better."
Reheema smiled contentedly.
"Oh yeah, where'd you get the gun?"
"Where'd you… think?"
"My top drawer?"
"You hid it under your panties… bein' all badass. Oooh." Reheema smiled again, then ran a dry tongue over her lips. "Yo, got some water?"
"Sure." Vicki picked up the beige plastic pitcher on the rolling bed table, poured water into a Styrofoam cup, and held it to Reheema's lips. "The doc said you'd be thirsty after the surgery, because they had to put a tube down your throat. I asked them, hey, can I put the tube down her throat? But they said no."
"Sorry I messed up your car." Reheema sipped some water, then eased back onto the pillow.
"It's okay." Vicki flashed on the bloodstained door on the TV news. She wasn't sure she wanted the Cabrio back, even if they could clean it up. "Lucky for me I already own an Intrepid."
"I get the Intrepid." Reheema eased back onto the pillow. "You take the Sunbird."
"I can't drive a stick."
"Then I got something… to teach you, Harvard."
"I could've told you that," Vicki said, and smiled. She set the cup on the bedside table, reached for Reheema's hand, and cradled it, which they both pretended wasn't happening until Reheema started to drift back to sleep.
And only then did Reheema's hand close around hers.
FIFTY-ONE
It was an August afternoon, and a nectarine sun shone on tall, leggy cosmos, their flowers neon orange, chrome yellow, and vivid magenta. Next to them sprouted a bunchy row of zinnias, in dusty pinks and lemony hues, their heads like pompoms. Honeybees landed on the flowers, then buzzed along. A young mother in jeans shorts and a red Sixers T-shirt stood with a toddler, picking black-eyed Susans with breakaway yellow petals and an unlikely black button at the center. The air felt humid as a hothouse, but it smelled sweet, earthy, and clean.